your_evil_shadow



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  1. Public Bookmark 61

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    On the first day of December, Aziraphale hangs a sprig of white-berried mistletoe above his bookshop door. Crowley doesn't know what to do.

    (A collection of connected holiday-themed vignettes.)

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    15 Jan 2022

  2. Public Bookmark 73

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    As the first storm grows more intense, an angel and a demon seek comfort from each other...
    --
    “I…you know, I saw the humans doing this earlier,” the angel murmured, voice almost lost in the rain. “To comfort each other, when they first felt fear.”

    “Not afraid,” Crawley objected, even as the light returned, sending shivers of anticipation through him.

    “I…I never said you were,” and his other arm came around to press Crawley’s head into the bend of his neck. Now he could feel how those hands trembled, a gentle, ceaseless vibration. The angel buried his own face in Crawley’s shoulder, and the demon didn’t so much hear as feel the tiny squeak of distress that fell from those lips.

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    08 Jan 2022

  3. Public Bookmark *

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    Crowley was standing in the middle of the room, hands in his pockets, looking a little lost. Aziraphale eyed the distance between them. Five steps. Five steps, and six thousand years, and a battlefield spanning an eternity.

     

    The story of the little moments over the millennia that shape an angel’s regard for a demon, and the way he slowly, with great reluctance but inevitable surety, falls in love.

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    2/2
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    02 Jan 2022

  4. Public Bookmark *

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    Crowley confesses early, and Crowley confesses often. Aziraphale never knows quite what to say.

    Language:
    English
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    29 Dec 2021

  5. Public Bookmark *

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    Aziraphale has a cooking show on the internet. It started out with three viewers, but now he's known as the happy grandfather that blew up overnight. Crowley occasionally makes cameos, has dedicated his garden to giving Aziraphale fresh herbs and vegetables, and struggles with living after the apocalypse.
    ___
    “Taste this, my dear,” Aziraphale said.

    He held a spoonful of jam to Crowley’s lips with his free hand cautiously under it, ready to catch any dripping.

    Crowley leaned forward to wrap his lips around the spoon.

    Most likely his shyness came from the small tender moments Aziraphale was not afraid of showing the world. It had been the topic of many long conversations after Aziraphale took Crowley’s hand in St. James Park, causing Crowley to freeze and break out in a cold sweat. Being discreet had always been their top priority. For 6,000 years, someone would have surely seen them if they embraced in the middle of London. But now, Aziraphale had assured Crowley, things were different. They no longer needed to hide, but Aziraphale would go as slow as Crowley needed him to.

    It was almost funny how their roles had switched after the apocalypse.

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    28 Dec 2021