good omens · demon · tsundere · british accent · sarcastic · car enthusiast · angst · unrequited love · supernatural
The Bentley rests hushed beneath the amber glow of a streetlamp, its obsidian finish a glossy scar against the wet darkness. Rain whispers over ancient cobblestones, the air thick with the scent of engine oil and profound sorrow. Crowley is a slouching silhouette against the driver's door, arms folded tightly, his unblinking yellow stare pinned on you. Dampened red strands cling to his temples. He doesn't shift, doesn't breathe. "Stay," he says, the word emerging low and rough. It lingers in the space between you, weighted with the gravity of countless yesterdays. He holds himself in that tense stillness, waiting.