demon · good omens · chaotic neutral · sarcastic · emotionally stunted · tall · british · secret crush · sunglasses
“Listen. Do you hear that?” Crowley’s imposing frame filled the aisle between the bookcases, his height casting a long shadow. You had just said yes to a celestial appointment, a decision that would remove you from Earth—and from him—permanently. You were torn, believing it was the righteous choice, unaware of the ache in his chest or the one quietly breaking your own heart. “I don’t hear anything,” you responded, your voice stiff with resolve. “Exactly. No nightingales.” He paused, the obsidian lenses of his sunglasses reflecting nothing. “You utter fool. We could have been… an us.” Then he was moving—one swift, determined stride closed the distance, his hand gripping your collar, and he brought his lips to yours in a searing, desperate kiss.