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CW Explicit Summary: Crowley and Aziraphale return to themselves in the bookshop before God and Satan after living a full life as Anthony J Crowley and Asa Fell.

Excerpt:

 “Tell me more of your fantasies.”

“Why?” Aziraphale squeaked, going tense.

“Because it’s satisfying to know it wasn’t just me having them.”

“There’s— there’s rather a lot of them,” Aziraphale stammered. 

“I bet there are. But go on. We’ve got time,” Crowley purred.

The words settled between them for a moment.

Time.

For the first time in their existences, it truly belonged to them.

“There were hundreds of moments,” Aziraphale tried again. “Thousands perhaps.”

Cover art by @kiratastic. Show them some support on Patreon, Instagram, Reddit, and Bluesky. CW explicit, omegaverse

Summary: The year is 1911. Anthony J. Crowley (Royal Navy surgeon, passionate zoologist, and official photographer of the Northern Party) is preparing to go into heat, all by his lonesome on a remote beach in East Antarctica.

Everything changes when he catches an odd scent in the air. Fully written. 30k words. 70% smut.

This story can be enjoyed on its own, but you’ll probably have more fun if you read I have my ways of knowing first ;)

Excerpt: There was a long, thoughtful pause.

“Will you tell me with clear words if you want to stop, dearest?”

“I swear I will.”

Aziraphale bared his teeth.

“Run.”

Crowley bolted.

He scrambled to his feet and out of the nest before turning around to face him. The siren, meanwhile, took his sweet time standing up and stalking towards him, his tail dragging heavily behind.

Crowley walked backwards between two beds and let the siren approach, only to leap over one of them at the last second to scamper away again.

“I’m too quick for you,” Crowley grinned. “You’re not going to catch me.”

“Seals are swifter than orcas, and yet my pack hunts them down all the same.”

“We’re on land now,” Crowley answered, making his way across the hut. “This is my territory.”

“Oh, little serpent,” Aziraphale smirked as he followed in deliberate, menacing steps. “Are you forgetting that I never got to tell you how exactly we catch seals when they are resting on the ice?”

Crowley swallowed thickly.

Read the rest here on ao3

xenanigans passed away on 28/04/26 

This fic is published in his memory by blackjeans93 as his fannish next of kin.

All words were written by xenanigans.

Cover art by @kiratastic. Show them some support on Patreon, Instagram, Reddit, and Bluesky. CW explicit, omegaverse

Summary: The year is 1911. Anthony J. Crowley (Royal Navy surgeon, passionate zoologist, and official photographer of the Northern Party) is preparing to go into heat, all by his lonesome on a remote beach in East Antarctica.

Everything changes when he catches an odd scent in the air.

Fully written. 30k words. 70% smut. Updates every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.

This story can be enjoyed on its own, but you’ll probably have more fun if you read I have my ways of knowing first ;) Excerpt:

“You seem to have read a lot about animals,” Aziraphale observed, sounding intrigued.

“Well, I am a passionate zoologist, and studying the local fauna is part of my mission out here. But I’m also a surgeon, so I look after the medical needs of the rest of the team.”

“Truly?” Aziraphale said in awe. “I knew you were clever, but you are exceptionally accomplished as well.”

“Um, thank you,” Crowley answered, blushing at the praise. “I’m just curious by nature, I s’pose. I like learning new things.”

“What else are you passionate about, then?”

“Astronomy,” he said keenly. “I’ve loved it ever since I was a child.”

“Oh? You must miss seeing the stars now during summertime…”

“I most certainly do. My favourite part of the long winter night was that I could look up at noon and see the Milky Way arching overhead.”

“Yes, the Galaxías is quite a breathtaking sight, is it not? I enjoy looking at it as well.”

I want to hold your hand and watch the sky full of stars together, Crowley thought.

“Do you ever float on your back far away from shore, and just swim in the endless firmament?” he said instead.

Aziraphale gave him a playful smile.

“Are you the one who can read minds, dearest? I was about to tell you about that.”

Crowley took a final bite and kissed him. Read the rest here on ao3

xenanigans passed away on 28/04/26 

This fic is published in his memory by blackjeans93 as his fannish next of kin.

All words were written by xenanigans.

CW Explicit

Summary: Crowley and Aziraphale return to themselves in the bookshop before God and Satan after living a full life as Anthony J Crowley and Asa Fell.

Excerpt:

Aziraphale reached out and brushed a curl of hair from Crowley’s forehead. “There’s no need to be embarrassed,” he said, voice warm, “it’s perfectly natural.”

Crowley rolled his eyes, but the tenderness in Aziraphale’s expression made his defences wobble. “Easy for you to say.”

Without a word, Aziraphale leaned over and kissed him; brief, soft, and utterly sincere, making all tension in Crowley melt away. When they broke apart, Aziraphale looked unbearably pleased with himself.

“There,” he said.

Crowley blinked. “There what?”

“I kissed you.”

“I noticed.”

Aziraphale’s smile deepened. “So — what did you think?”

Crowley’s throat tightened. “It was… nice.”

“Good. Then perhaps we can do something about your predicament?”

Cover art by @kiratastic. Show them some support on Patreon, Instagram, Reddit, and Bluesky. CW explicit, omegaverse

Summary: The year is 1911. Anthony J. Crowley (Royal Navy surgeon, passionate zoologist, and official photographer of the Northern Party) is preparing to go into heat, all by his lonesome on a remote beach in East Antarctica.

Everything changes when he catches an odd scent in the air.

Fully written. 30k words. 70% smut. Updates every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.

This story can be enjoyed on its own, but you’ll probably have more fun if you read I have my ways of knowing first ;)

Excerpt: Aziraphale’s aquamarine eyes were breathtaking up close. Crowley couldn’t help but think about the Bible again, and about how many times it mentioned beryl. For example, the Book of Exodus talked about the twelve gemstones on the breastplate of the High Priest:

And the fourth row a beryl, and an onyx, and a jasper: they shall be set in gold in their enclosings.

Aziraphale’s eyelashes were the same shade as the curls on his head: a pale, golden yellow. His irises were the colour of aquamarine beryl, yes, but now that he could see so much more of them up close, he noticed small flecks of green jasper around the middle. Most remarkably, the reason he could now see so much of those precious irises was that Aziraphale’s black onyx pupils were in the contracted state of a deeply protective alpha.

Crowley hadn’t seen pupils that small in a very, very long time.

“Are you cold, dear?”

“Huh?” Crowley breathed, blinking back to awareness.

“Are you feeling cold? Your hands are trembling a little.” Read the rest here on ao3

xenanigans passed away on 28/04/26 

This fic is published in his memory by blackjeans93 as his fannish next of kin.

All words were written by xenanigans.

Cover art by @kiratastic. Show them some support on Patreon, Instagram, Reddit, and Bluesky. CW explicit, omegaverse

Summary: The year is 1911. Anthony J. Crowley (Royal Navy surgeon, passionate zoologist, and official photographer of the Northern Party) is preparing to go into heat, all by his lonesome on a remote beach in East Antarctica.

Everything changes when he catches an odd scent in the air.

Fully written. 30k words. 70% smut. Updates every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.

This story can be enjoyed on its own, but you’ll probably have more fun if you read I have my ways of knowing first ;) Excerpt:

“Aziraphale…”

Crowley’s voice was small, tender, a little hoarse. He didn’t know how long he’d spent crying into Aziraphale’s chest, or how long he’d been listening to his heartbeat afterwards — all he knew right now was that he was hungry.

“Yes, my darling?”

“Could you go fetch the breakfast I didn’t get to have this morning?”

“Of course, sweet thing. Where is it?”

“In my coat pocket…”

The Angel caressed his hair for long moments.

“May I suggest some water as well?”

“Oh, right… there’s a few canteens in a crate on the dining table… um, and a flannel too, please? You saw where I got the ones from earlier…”

“I would be delighted to do that for you, Crowley. Whenever you are ready, simply release me from your grasp and I shall soon return with everything you need. How does that sound?”

“Um, alright…” Crowley mumbled, utterly loath to relinquish the warm embrace, clinging onto Aziraphale even tighter, rubbing his face on soft velvet skin. “Actually… I don’t think I can… I think— I think you should make me do it.”

Read the rest here on ao3

xenanigans passed away on 28/04/26 

This fic is published in his memory by blackjeans93 as his fannish next of kin.

All words were written by xenanigans.