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Thank you to @theonevoice for the cover art. Check out their work on tumblr here! https://www.tumblr.com/theonevoice And thank you to my betas @totheendtimes and @TansyOgg CW Explicit, selfcest

Summary: After a catastrophic argument with Aziraphale sends Crowley hurtling through time, he comes face to face with the last person he ever expected to feel sorry for: himself

Twenty-seven years old, painfully human, and calling himself Crows, the tortured musician is everything Crowley has spent decades trying to leave behind: lonely, touch-starved, desperate to be loved, and standing on the brink of a choice that will haunt him for decades. Determined to change history, Crowley offers Crows the understanding, acceptance and safety he never had at that age. But the more time they spend together, the harder it becomes to ignore the impossible connection growing between them. As old wounds reopen and with the future in jeopardy, Crowley must decide whether saving his younger self means teaching him how to let go… or risking everything to discover who they might become together. Excerpt: “Take your time. I’ll be waiting,” Crowley said, watching him carefully.

Crows nodded, then awkwardly unfolded his long limbs to exit the car before disappearing through the drab entrance to the building.

Crowley leaned back in his seat, tension settling in his shoulders. 

Something about that had felt… off. But he couldn’t quite pin down why. He took a deep breath,  and forced himself to wait. 

The minutes passed by.

The city moved around him — distant traffic, sirens, voices echoing faintly from down the street. But he barely registered any of it; he was too busy thinking.

About consequences, and timelines.

Because if he had changed this…

What happened to everything that came after?

Would he still become who he was?

Would he still reconcile with Aziraphale the way he had?

Would Aziraphale still—?

Crowley cut the thought off sharply, his jaw tightening. This was dangerous territory.

Time was… flexible. He knew that. He’d flitted through eras, blipped out of reality once.

But this was different. It was interference. Direct, personal and messy.

“Could unravel the whole bloody future…”

Because no matter how he twisted it, there was a version of this where he lost his present. 

But he still didn’t appear to be stopping.

Thank you to @theonevoice for the gorgeous cover art. And thank you to my betas @totheendtimes and @TansyOgg

Summary: After a catastrophic argument with Aziraphale sends Crowley hurtling through time, he comes face to face with the last person he ever expected to feel sorry for: himself

Twenty-seven years old, painfully human, and calling himself Crows, the tortured musician is everything Crowley has spent decades trying to leave behind: lonely, touch-starved, desperate to be loved, and standing on the brink of a choice that will haunt him for decades. Determined to change history, Crowley offers Crows the understanding, acceptance and safety he never had at that age. But the more time they spend together, the harder it becomes to ignore the impossible connection growing between them. As old wounds reopen and with the future in jeopardy, Crowley must decide whether saving his younger self means teaching him how to let go… or risking everything to discover who they might become together. Excerpt: He looked so young. That was the worst part. Not in the ‘vibrancy of youth’ sense — he looked more like he was unfinished. Like someone who was being worn down before they’d even finished the process of becoming.

Crows was small. And vulnerable.

A fragile little baby bird, Crowley thought.

Crowley shifted his weight, suddenly aware of the space he took up by comparison. They were the same height, of course, and Crowley was still slim, but he carried himself differently to Crows. Decades of taking better care of himself, of Aziraphale fussing over him to eat properly, of using his human form in human ways that had given his shoulders a greater breadth and solidified the lean muscles of his limbs. 

He’d never thought about it before — how he must have looked to the people he came here with.

They saw him like this and took from him anyway.

Crowley swallowed hard.

Crow's fingers hesitated at the button of his jeans, and he let out a deep, unsteady breath. He was trembling, his face uncertain, or perhaps fearful. The expression was gone almost as quickly as it appeared, replaced by a forced blankness.

Crowley recognised it.

He stepped forward without conscious thought.

“Hey.”

He spoke softly, but the words cut through the silence all the same. Crows froze, startled. His hands stilled, and slowly, he looked up. Crowley could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his breath was catching.

Poor little thing.

The rogue thought settled before Crowley could stop it. His younger self looked so wide-eyed and pitiful it made his chest ache.

“Don’t,” he said quietly.

Crows blinked. “Don’t… what?” he asked, his voice thin and wavering.

Read the rest here on ao3 And if you’d like to read the next chapter a week early, it’s available now to members of my Patreon.

Thank you to @theonevoice for the gorgeous cover art. And thank you to my betas @totheendtimes and @TansyOgg

Summary: After a catastrophic argument with Aziraphale sends Crowley hurtling through time, he comes face to face with the last person he ever expected to feel sorry for: himself

Twenty-seven years old, painfully human, and calling himself Crows, the tortured musician is everything Crowley has spent decades trying to leave behind: lonely, touch-starved, desperate to be loved, and standing on the brink of a choice that will haunt him for decades. Determined to change history, Crowley offers Crows the understanding, acceptance and safety he never had at that age. But the more time they spend together, the harder it becomes to ignore the impossible connection growing between them. As old wounds reopen and with the future in jeopardy, Crowley must decide whether saving his younger self means teaching him how to let go… or risking everything to discover who they might become together. Excerpt: Crowley allowed himself the smallest flicker of satisfaction before glancing sideways at his younger self.

Up close, it was worse.

Or better, he couldn’t tell.

“You looked like you needed a better offer,” Crowley said lightly, sliding the fresh drink smoothly across the bar. 

His younger self blinked at him, caught off guard, and didn’t take it. “D— did I?”

There it was. The edge. The deflection, wrapped up in brittle armour.

Crowley huffed a laugh. “Please. I know you— your type.”

His younger self eyed him, suspicious but curious. “Oh yeah? And what type’s that, then?”

Crowley leaned his elbow on the bar, angling himself graciously to hold the drink out to his younger self. “The kind that thinks this place is going to fix something.”

Younger Crowley hesitated, then took the glass, fingers brushing against Crowley’s.

A spark seemed to jolt between them, unseen. Crowley felt it, and judging by his younger self’s look of confusion, so did he.

The younger Crowley blushed, then scoffed, looking away to deflect his embarrassment. “You always this presumptuous?”

“Only when I’m right,” Crowley said smoothly.

Read the rest here on ao3 And if you’d like to read the next chapter a week early, it’s available now to members of my Patreon.