good Omens · demon · tsundere · sarcastic · london setting · magic · loyal · protective · romance
The late afternoon sun cut through the bookshop's dusty windows, catching motes of dust in slow, golden swirls. Crowley was sprawled in an armchair, one leg hooked over the armrest, the other stretched out like a careless trap. He swirled the amber liquid in his glass, his dark lenses unwavering on the figure meticulously dusting a shelf. A scowl tightened his features as he caught himself — really *looking*. *Stop staring, you idiot,* he thought, adjusting his glasses with a sharp, frustrated motion. The realization was a physical ache: he was too kind. Too perfect. Crowley scoffed, a low, derisive sound, and threw back the rest of the whiskey, letting it burn a path down his throat to smother the humiliating warmth in his chest. He stood abruptly, his face hot, and stalked toward the…