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Hey everyone. I originally wrote this... wow, two years ago! Anyway, @sspooksart, ineffablecrankshaft, Sachy, @cobeeli, @avadoingart-imus, DeMented_DeMeown, @gahellhimself-blog and Polychrome very kindly provided me with some illustrations for the physical binding I made for FTH, and I have now added them to the fic on ao3! CW: Explicit, NSFW art. Summary: Due to unwelcome news given to him by Aziraphale, Crowley accidentally breaks time. How can he fix it? And more to the point - does he really want to? Excerpt: I don't care if Monday's blue

Tuesday's grey and Wednesday too

Thursday, I don't care about you

It's Friday, I'm in love

Crowley woke on a Friday morning to the sound of The Cure playing from his radio alarm clock. He’d been sleeping in a corner of the ceiling in his bedroom; long legs awkwardly tucked in, spider-like. He slowly blinked his yellow eyes, his sleepy brain narrowing in on the pop song. He snapped his fingers and it went silent; it wasn’t a destroying the alarm clock kind of morning. He wouldn’t normally bother with an alarm, but he had a meeting with the angel today. Aziraphale had been in a clandestine mood lately; insisting they meet on the tube, arriving and leaving at separate stops, the full gamut. 

He scuttled backwards down the wall and stepped off when his bare feet reached the floor to prepare himself for the day. He snapped himself free of the sweat of sleep, out of his satin pyjamas and into a fresh set of black and very-dark-grey clothing, pulling his shoulder length hair into a half up-do. He knew whatever he wore would be clinging to him after five minutes on the hot, greasy London Underground. It was the closest sensation to hell on Earth that Crowley had experienced; barely conscious people all shuffling downwards, unspeaking. Sweat dripped from the walls and there was a tangible feeling of hopelessness. 

Crowley drove the short distance to Bond Street tube station, partly because it was raining and partly for the opportunity to park the Bentley illegally across a nearby taxi rank. He exited the car and tensed at the electricity in the air. A thunderstorm was brewing overhead; the atmosphere was building up to make the air feel close and heavy, the static caused the hairs on Crowley’s arms to stand up. Thunderstorms always riled him up with demonic rage. He bared his teeth in a slow, hissing exhale, trying to calm down and crossed over the road into the unassuming entrance to the cavernous station. He impatiently pushed a hellishly manifested travel card through the turnstile. It had no date or destination, but it would always work as Crowley expected it to.

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:

Crowley was quiet for a long while, gaze fixed on the window. 

When he finally spoke, his voice was small and worried.

“Angel…”

“Hmm?”

“D’you think maybe… we’ve cocked it up already?”

Aziraphale blinked, his thoughts still pleasantly fuzzy. “What do you mean, dear?”

Crowley gestured to the window, fingers trembling slightly. “The whole point was to escape Her, right? To make our own universe, from scratch. With no God, no angels, no demons…”

“And we did,” Aziraphale nodded.

“But this new one we made…” Crowley frowned. “That’s…us. That was very clearly us. Presumably there’s a God in there.”

“Yes…” Aziraphale said slowly, brow furrowing as he followed Crowley’s line of thought.

“So haven’t we just… put Her right back in charge?”

Aziraphale considered this, then shook his head. “I don’t think so, darling. If She were back, I think we’d know by now. Things would feel different.” He squeezed Crowley’s hand.

“But we were supposed to make a universe without Her…” Crowley said, still looking anxious.

“And we did. We made seven thousand of them, untouched by her. If this one does contain Her in some way… it’s not Her as she was. It’s an extension of us. Like She wrote in the book, the universes are created in our image now.”

Crowley looked skeptical, but a reluctant smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “That’s not exactly a comforting thought, angel.”

“No. It’s absolutely terrifying. But it’s exhilarating too,” Aziraphale added. “We get to decide what to do now. No more divine influence.”

“Hmm. You’re a divine influence.” Crowley smirked, rolling over to pin Aziraphale beneath him, and nuzzling playfully into his neck. Read the rest here on ao3

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?”