24 Apr 2020
Crowley is an escort. He's been doing it for several years now, and he thinks he knows what to expect. But after meeting one particular bookshop owner, he isn't so sure. Aziraphale is so different from his normal clients. He opens up something in Crowley he had thought long since buried, and threatens the carefully constructed walls that have long stood guard around his heart.
Aziraphale is... lonely. He is tired of being alone. But he has been hurt too many times in the past to even consider dating again. So, he comes up with the perfect plan. A relationship without real feelings. If only it were ever that easy.
Bookmarked by Fantomina
21 Jul 2020
Adam resets everything after Armageddon, so none of it ever happened. Everything is put back the way it was, with Heaven and Hell none the wiser. But Crowley and Aziraphale are no longer willing to remain hereditary enemies, under the watchful eyes of their superiors. So they come up with an audacious plan that might just work.
After his fight with Aziraphale, Crowley discovers London's opium dens. But his experiences while under the influence are not always pleasant.
In which a lonely bookshop owner, and a lonely sleep paralysis demon fall in love, and try to make it work, in the brief snatches of time they can be together.
30 Jul 2020
There was a faint tracing of scales along the woman's cheekbones, tracing down her thin arms and lean thighs. The nipples on her pale, almost flat breasts were dark as night. Fiery red curls fell over dagger-sharp shoulders sprayed gently with more black scales, and the golden eyes were wide and snake-like. The woman was beautiful, but hardly human.
"Crawly," the woman said with disgust. "Was that the best you could do, angel?"
"I said I didn't have much imagination." Aziraphale's lips were heavy, and she was almost sure she wasn't forming the words properly. There was some kind of spell over her, holding her almost immobile. The venom must have been paralytic. If she had been human, she supposed she would have been dead. Her corporation didn't like it much either. "What name would you prefer I use for you?"
The stranger tipped her head on one side, considering. "Crowley?"
Aziraphale almost laughed. The whole situation was simply too irritating. If she was to die now, at the hands of some local deity, the paperwork hardly bore thinking about. And her precious work on Sappho's poetry, gone.
"Crowley, then. You're a nymph of some kind, I take it?"