#aziracrow fluff

[fenja-illustrations]

An ineffable light study ✨

[fandom-fluff-of-the-day]

Today's Fluff is Aziracrow. This pose is one of my favorites. Crowley just all up in Aziraphale's space

Aziraphale loves Aziraphale's space. Crowley loves Aziraphale's space. I love Crowley in Aziraphale's space. Neil can I be an extra that just yells "Can I get a wahoo" when they finally fix their relationship?

[tonbane]

I'm sure this must've been done before but... I still need therapy after that tragic kiss, so how about a nice one? (based on that beautiful photo of David Tennant playing Richard II)

Reblog to support! :)

[effable-husbands]

I can not be held responsible for what I do if crowley and aziraphale do not hug in season 3.

[liggy-not-potter]

Summary:

It's 2014, and same-sex marriage was just legalized in Great Britain. Crowley realizes that because the fake records he and Aziraphale use say they're both male, this means they could get married. And he takes that idea and runs with it. As long as Aziraphale thinks it's to show support for the community, he's bound to agree, right?

Fic Preview:

Crowley had an idea.  

He didn’t know how the Angel would take it, and certainly was afraid to tell him, but nonetheless, Crowley had an idea.  

It was brilliant, and in typical Crowley fashion, somewhat selfish. But he didn’t mind. If he explained it with different reasoning, he was sure the Angel would buy it. Twist it to hide why he wanted to.  

Well, he thought that he was sure.  

If he was sure, why would he have spent the last twenty minutes thinking it over in the Bentley rather than walking into the bookshop and proposing it?  

If he was so sure, why were his palms sweaty and his heart racing before he’d even got to ask?  

I don’t think he was so sure.

@serenity-black @crowleys-mortalcounterpart @aerosolsprite @wannabescemo @justabit-silly @coolittleguy @liberdaze @inmygalaxy @babypotato0118 @rebelcaptain4life @shipping-vaguely-downwards @daughterofthemuse @badomensonly @outsideyourhousewithaknife @spnmarvelfanintardis @bethjs-2005 

[1941-crowley-slut]

Listen I typically headcanon Crow and Azi as asexual...

...but.

I have recently started considering the other possibility as well. Because they might be angel and demon, but it is not a new concept for them that they do human things. Especially after they have already gotten to that breaking point where (reason aside) they express their love through a physicality (the kiss). Imagine what would come next, how hungry they would be for each other after getting the first taste... (que flashback of Aziraphale trying the ox, thank you)

So I've been thinking about their first time. I think that it would be something unprompted, unexpected, although Aziraphale is definitely the kind of person to plan such things. He would have loved to plan it all, make a big romantic scene with wine and music and rose petals and dim lighting. And I bet Crowley's falling-in-love-under-an-awning-in-the-rain ass would like that too, even if he pretended otherwise.

But they wouldn't do that. They wouldn't really think it through at all beforehand. I think they'd just get taken away in a loving, intimate moment between them on the couch of Azi's bookshop. Crowley would have locked the doors with a snap of his fingers and performed a little miracle to make it so they would be invisible from the outside. Not so much for himself, but for Azi.

And he'd be oh so gentle with his angel. Even though he'd be filled with so much need and passion due to the longing he's had to endure for this angel, Crowley wouldn't fail to make the other feel loved. He'd take it slow, intertwine their fingers, kiss Aziraphale sweetly and occasionally ask him if he was feeling alright, feeling good. He'd be careful, because Aziraphale would be so very fragile in his hands at that moment.

And when they were done... After Aziraphale managed to get past these new shocking feelings, the high he was currently experiencing, guilt would set in. He'd sit up, turn away from Crowley in a panic and hurriedly attempt to dress himself in his shirt and fix his hair. The same panic we saw him experience after the kiss in season 2. He'd be refusing to allow Crowley to look at his face, make eye contact, all while mumbling things like "Oh, what did I do?" "This is so wrong..." "We shouldn't have. We really shouldn't have.", as well as numerous things about being tempted.

Crowley would watch for a moment. Just for enough time, until he knew Aziraphale would feel okay being touched again. He knows his angel so well, he knows all his green and red lights and how long it takes to get to them. And he wouldn't be upset. He wouldn't feel betrayed or offended over Aziraphale thinking they made a mistake. Because Crowley knows these thoughts are not his own, but the ones he has been fed from the beginning of their creation. He knows Aziraphale suffers with religious trauma and guilt, even though the angel himself prefers to be oblivious to it.

Soon enough, Crowley would approach. He'd snake his arms around Aziraphale's waist with gentle motions that wouldn't startle the angel. He'd hold the other from behind quietly and press light kisses to his nape as a reassurance. As his way of saying "You didn't do anything wrong, angel. You're still good. And I love you."

With another snap of his fingers, he'd get them all cleaned up, and maybe also dressed, if Aziraphale needed it. If he felt more comfortable that way. And then he'd make sure they were in bed, watching cheesy romcoms that Azi likes. And Crowley would do his very best not to complain about the clichés, or he'd only make silly little remarks that he knew would make Aziraphale smile, even just momentarily.

[ Note: The intro has been edited ]

[greyyson-but-no]

you're staying? | aziracrow

genre | fix it fic, fluff, angst

warnings | kissing, shouting, could be the actual season 2 ending but no :D, s2 ep6 spoilers then, i guess? but not completely. crowley kinda hates himself and regrets a lot of stuff, aziraphale being... himself (not on purpose though, we know the way he is <3)

pairing | aziracrow (crowley x aziraphale) from good omens

word count | 1.1K

a/n | my first good omens fic would of course have to be a fix-it fic, wouldn't it? this is very very needed. and to help with dealing with the actual end of season 2, we can be delulu together and pretend this is what happened :). fuck the Metatron, here's a happy ending season 2, hope you all enjoy....

Aziraphale and Crowley stood in the most comfortable part of the bookshop, together, standing opposite each other, as if the earlier hours of the day had been completely and utterly normal, and as if neither of them were about to have the most vital decision of their lives. It had certainly been an odd day (even if they seemed to get more and more common these days), both of them were itching to find a way to fix it all. Whatever it took.

Crowley stood by the door, heaving from the horrid argument, looking over at the one he had unknowingly been in love with for so long. He, simply, didn’t know what to do. What to say. How to fix this mess of relationship they had thrown themselves into.

He could remember when he first fell in love with Aziraphale.

It was the Garden of Eden. The first day of life on Earth and the first time Crowley had ever felt so much love. Demons weren’t supposed to feel anything of the sort but it was something about Aziraphale and his odd dorkiness and… well, every part of him. Each individual characteristic that made Aziraphale himself made Crowley fall in love with him just that little bit more.

And here he was, standing in front of Crowley with the most disheartened and lost look on his face. Crowley had never seen him so empty. So not looking like himself and it  hurt him. Not just because he was sad in general but because he had been the one to make him like that. Of course they had argued in the past before, six thousand years being friends? It was going to happen but this time was different. This time was futile and the most hurtful. And if Crowley hadn’t spoken about it, hadn’t mentioned it and just forgotten his feelings like he always did, he wouldn’t have made Aziraphale feel the way he did.

“Crowley, I don’t think you understand what I’m offering here.” Aziraphale spoke, jutting his head forward in the ever-so-Aziraphale way. “You say we could have been an ‘us’ because we can be! I am not throwing us away, we can be together in Heaven!.”

The demon sighed, shaking his head and running a hand over his face, looking over at Aziraphale again. “Angel, that’s not me!”

“It was you. It’s the you I first knew.” He replied, and Crowley could see it in his eyes that he thought he was doing the right thing.

“It’s not the me you fell in love with, though.” Crowley sighed, tired eyes searching the endless emotions in Aziraphale, hoping for some sign of what his reply would be. Crowley had never even dreamed of opening up this much ever, let alone in one night. He had a feeling if he was going to be shut down again, maybe he would just never try again. Better to hide away and never tell anyone then to have your heart mercilessly ripped out.

Aziraphale’s shoulders dropped. “Crowley…”

“Don’t.”

“No, Crowley, wait.” Aziraphale pleads, watching as the demon he truly did love dropped his head in defeat.

“If you can’t say no to heaven, if you really want to leave everything behind, leave us behind, then I’m certainly not going to stop you. But you have to understand what you’re throwing away.” Crowley spoke, bowing his head as an excuse to not look at Aziraphale as he did so. “We’ve known each other for six thousand fucking years, and I have certainly loved you for most of that time, I just need you to see that as well. That’s all I’m asking. Then I’ll just shut up and go away. I’ll let you go, finally.”

But what Crowley didn’t see, was what he should have seen most. In the mists of that green and brown and blue concoction, was the most adoring, loving look Aziraphale could muster. Every feeling of hope and every trace of happiness he had ever felt all brought into one look, all aimed at Crowley.

Aziraphale had been in denial for a long, long time. That feeling of warmth each time he looked at Crowley was always pushed down, always forgotten and repressed because he was a demon. I am an angel. It’s not supposed to work like that. Nothing could convince him that he loved Crowley, for a very very long time. It was during World War Two that he came to terms with it. Just about.

Because really, he wasn’t fully a demon. He may have fallen, he may side with hell as much as he can and he may refuse to admit he can be nice, but deep down, Aziraphale saw the small acts of service that made him not so much a demon. A little but of a nice person. Even if he didn’t want to admit it.

His kindness had made Aziraphale realise that he loved Crowley.

And so, Aziraphale took those few steps forward, catching Crowley’s eye as he did so. Crowley caught eye contact, a worried but hope–filled look curved into his features. Aziraphale fell even harder then. With a hand reached up, the angel grabs his demon by the cheeks, softly and calmly, not to scare him, not to worry him further.

“Crowley, my dear.” Aziraphale murmurs, voice soft and filled to the brim with love. In one swift movement, Aziraphale pulled Crowley down, pushing their lips together.

It was a kiss six thousand years in the making. Filled with denied adoration and words that they regretted. Arguments that had been forgotten over time and then even more inside jokes and giving in on temptations, breakfasts and lunches and dinners at the Ritz, hearing Queen playing in the Bentley, even the smell of the old bookshop. Everything that could possibly relate to them, was piled into that kiss.

It was well worth the wait.

Crowley pulled himself back, pulling his glasses off one more time, throwing them on the ground as if to say I’m not going to hide anymore as he looked at Aziraphale, jaw unhinged in disbelief.

“Angel.”

"We have to figure it out. We'll have to talk through everything and the Metatron still wants an answer from me, but it won't be the one he wants, nor the one he expects." Aziraphale explains, taking Crowley's hand to reassure him that he wasn't going anywhere.

Though, knowing Crowley, he needed a clear answer, otherwise his mind would run and run and run. He stumbled over his words, though, still full of disbelief and not quite understanding what Aziraphale was implying. "So- you- you're staying?"

"Yes." Aziraphale nodded, the realisation finally settling in and a wide grin arriving with it.

[river1983]

Like Real People Do

Hi! Yes I love hozier, and this song has ineffable husbands energy.

--

inspired by hozier’s like real people do

--

crowley thinks about that day in Eden, curled in his serpent form on the branch of the Forbidden Tree, watching the angel in white help a snail across a log. the angel sat in the green of the pasture, silently, as if simply taking in the location in its full glory. crowley watched the angel, wondering what was buried inside the angel’s brain, not knowing the hands that led the snail across the branch would be the same ones that lifted him from the darkness of hell.

-

the silent exchange between them happened on the gate of Eden when the first rain dawned upon them. they didn’t speak of their origins, nor did they question why they were talking to one another. they simply existed together at this moment of time, in the real moment of the first rain.

-

years later, in the soft, comforting walls of the bookshop, crowley watched aziraphale bustle about the store, staring at him as he once again remembers the day in Eden. aziraphale intrigued him, drew the demon in like a moth to a flame. for once in his life he didn’t ask questions, didn’t ask why aziraphale tolerated him, or even, if he dared, found friendship in him. the demon still remembers the white walls of heaven, the stiffness of being an angel, and in some sad way, he already knew.

-

in the beginning of the End, they didn’t ask what would happen next, nor did they question each other’s intentions. they just took each other’s hands, like a lock in a key, like they were born just to grasp the corporeal skin of the other being, as if they were real people who had found each other on the streets of Soho and not as enemies in the Garden. and at the beginning of the rest of their lives, in the quiet lull of the bookshop, the fear of heaven and hell rolling off their shoulders, they forgot where they came from, and their lips met in the dim light of the shop. they became real people in the bookshop that day, for the first time in their lives they were on their own side, like real people do.

--

happy pride month :)))

-river