Hello! My name is Caspian. And I have fallen so far down the Good Omens rabbit hole that I really don't want rescued, just toss down some crepes and play some nightingale song to give me hope from time to time.

To date, I've mostly fandomed over on Twitter, where I post lots of little short tweet stories and Ao3 where I post the longer versions when the short stories get out of hand. I'll also try to remember to tag my writing here under #Caspian Writes in case you'd like to search here for other things I've written. I tend to write gentle hurt/comfort and canon adjacent if not compliant, though I have been dragged into a crack fic and AU or two when the mood strikes.

I also cosplay like... a lot. So. Many. Cosplays. I was a cosplayer before Good Omens and since, well I started with modern Crowley in 2019 and have only rarely wandered away from the GO side. You can see my cosplays under #Caspian Cosplays or check out my instagram, which is also horribly under-updated. Blame the ADHD.

If you stumbled across me in the early days of fandom, it's probably because you found my articles over on the Geekiary or perhaps saw one of my panels at The Ineffable Con. I've been yelling about Good Omens being a nonbinary love story since 2019 and I don't see any likelihood of that ending anytime soon.

I'll add to this if I see the need to, but in the meantime, hello pinned post

Prompt Ten: Wore such a frown

Crowley’s eyes were covered and hands tied roughly around his back. He didn’t try to escape whoever had got the drop on him. With Aziraphale’s absence, it seemed all the fight had left him. Instead, he sagged in their hands.

“Are we sure this is him?”

“How many demons with a snake tattoo on their face would be hanging out in Soho?”

Angels, then. Despite himself, a small part of his curiosity flared. Would they take him to Heaven? Did he want to go to Heaven? They carried him and he heard the hum of the elevator before being dragged limply through what he knew must be painfully white hallways.

Finally, he was thrown to the ground where he landed on his knees. The bag was pulled from his face and after a few blinks he could barely make out the angel scowling down at him.

Aziraphale.

The angel’s eyebrows drew in, the frown deepening. “Why did you bring him here?”

“We needed a demon to test the weapon out on, did we not?” Sandalphon responded proudly.

The blond angel continued to gaze at him, his face set but Crowley could read the fear in his eyes. “Get out,” Aziraphale growled.

“But—”

Aziraphale turned his full attention to the other angels in the room. “I am the Supreme Archangel, am I not? And I am giving an order. Out.”

The others hesitated nervously, then one by one filed out. Crowley still knelt, Aziraphale perched over him his arms spread slightly.

The moment the room was empty, the angel snapped and released his bonds. “How dare they—it’s no matter. We’ll get you out of here and back to the bookshop. Do you think you can stay there?”

“W-why would…”

The angel paused, tilting his head. “Did they drug you, my dear? Are you alright?”

“My dear?”

A dozen emotions flitted across Aziraphale’s face. Worry, confusion, fear, and Crowley recognized when understanding hit. “You thought… Crowley you could believe that of me? Oh, I am so sorry.” He fell to his knees in front of the demon. His hands lifted and then paused. “You thought it was real. That I could think that of you. I’d hoped you’d figure it out, piece together we were being watched.”

The words made no sense. Piece what together. And why was Aziraphale being so kind to him? He’d left him behind, he’d—

There was a small huff of frustration from the angel. “As it seems it is not abundantly clear, I love you. In every way. Which is why I need to get you out of here and somewhere safe.”

Crowley didn’t understand any of this, but Aziraphale’s hands had risen to cup his face gently and he couldn’t help but nuzzle into them. As the world seemed to settle into its rightful place, one fact hit Crowley. “But you’re here.”

“It’s where I need to be to protect you. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Heaven was cruel. Crowley knew that and had seen it firsthand. “If you can.”

The acceptance on Aziraphale’s face was all Crowley needed to know this was the truth: that the angel had come here to protect him, knowing he may not walk out again.

“Don’t you realize that losing you would hurt more than anything they could do to me?” Crowley whispered.

There was a knock at the door that made them both hold their breath until the footsteps trailed away again. Aziraphale still hadn’t removed his hands from where they rested on Crowley’s face and now he leaned in, bringing their lips together gently.

It was everything their first kiss had not been. A promise, rather than a plea. And Crowley understood. Wouldn’t he have done the same thing if Hell had threatened Aziraphale? Whatever it would take to protect the piece of his heart that knelt before him.

“Please, go to the bookshop. Stay there. I will return. I promise.”

Crowley nodded, “Unless you need me. You’ll call?”

“I have the number,” Aziraphale smiled sadly.

They stood together. Aziraphale looked him over one more time, taking in every sight of the demon before him. “The shop will be safe,” he promised softly.

And with a chime, Crowley was sitting on Aziraphale’s bed in the top floor of the shop. It was as disorienting as it was welcome. He turned his face upwards, as if he could see through the ceiling to Heaven itself. And he promised himself that he’d do whatever it took to bring his angel home.

Prompt Nine: London Town

Aziraphale, nominally, had many duties in Heaven. And beyond his Heavenly job requirements, he had what he was truly here for: protection of the Earth and his demon. Ensuring their home survived, even if his freedom was the price that was paid to do so.

There was so much that Aziraphale should be doing.

So he didn’t understand why time and again, his feet brought him back to stare at the globe that was Earth. It was a siren call that he did his best to ignore, but whenever he wasn’t fighting it he found himself here again.

The greens, browns, and blues of his home swirled. And on the worst days, like today, he forced the globe to focus, drawing closer. He gazed first at the United Kingdom, and then London sprawled below him. So far, he hadn’t been brave enough to actually look up the bookshop.

Would he want to see Crowley there, waiting for him still? Or would it break his heart to see the demon gone?

Best to gaze at London, instead. To allow the years of memories to wash over him, steeling him for what must come.

Everything in him longed to as much as whisper Crowley’s name, to apologize, to tell the demon he would do his best to return. And all he could do was watch.

What the angel forgot was that Crowley could tell when someone was watching.

Even from Heaven, he felt the warm regard. It gave him hope.

Prompt Eight: Moon that lingers

Crowley’s hand in his own was warm and welcome as Aziraphale allowed himself to be led. He had expected Crowley to slow down once they were in the gardens, but they hurried down a quiet path surrounded by large hedges on either side. After a few twists and turns with nothing but the moonlight for guidance Aziraphale was utterly lost.

There was nowhere else he’d rather be, though.

Finally, they exited the gardens and Crowley all but flew through the grass and into the trees beyond, never relenting his grip on Aziraphale. Privacy, Aziraphale realized. They wanted to be alone. And the angel couldn’t say he disliked the sentiment.

The woods opened to a meadow, primrose bordered and filled with clovers. Here Crowley finally relented their headlong plunge.

“Sorry, should have asked. Any reason to stay at the party?”

Aziraphale lifted his chin primly, “I was sent to put an end to the demonic activity present. I have to assume that I have fulfilled my requirements?”

The laugh that spilled from Crowley delighted Aziraphale. He cupped the demon’s face, turning it slightly so he could lean in and bring their lips together. “I’ve missed you,” he confessed.

“S’only been what, a week?” Crowley wrapped their arms tightly around the angel.

“And yet, it feels like so much more,” Aziraphale murmured. “How long can you stay?”

As they fell to the soft ground together Crowley promised quietly, “Long as the moon is out tonight, I think?”

If the moon happened to linger a bit longer than usual, no one besides a single demon and an angel curled up together in a meadow noticed.

Part three of three <3

Prompt Seven: Smiled at me

Crowley sensed when Aziraphale entered the property, how could they not? They’d been attuned to the angel’s presence for hundreds of years. Still, they continued their haphazard dance on the floor. It wasn’t often that they felt like relaxing around the humans, but it’d been stressful lately and this was exactly what they needed.

Still, it would be better with the one partner they wanted at their side. Or a quiet stroll among the gardens with the angel. With a flourish, Crowley tried to make their way across the dance floor to where they could feel Aziraphale’s presence.

When they finally spotted the golden curls in the crowd and met the angel’s gaze, Aziraphale’s eyes widened. Had Crowley been putting on that much of a show? Yet as Crowley twirled towards him, the smile that slowly spread across Aziraphale’s face said every bit of it was welcoming.

Later they could blame it on the wine as they dropped the grace they’d used on the dance floor, and tumbled into the angel knowing that warm arms would catch them every time. As Aziraphale lifted them, one eyebrow raised in question, Crowley could do nothing but smirk back, “Hello, angel.”

Aziraphale was clearly torn between proper behavior and the want to keep his hold on Crowley. It sent a shiver down the demon’s spine. Still, they wanted this evening to be pleasant, so they pulled themself to their feet though they didn’t relinquish their grip on Aziraphale’s hand. “Walk with me?” they asked as they led the way to the back door and the gardens.

Part Two of Three

Prompt Six: When you turned

Aziraphale wove his way across the dance floor, gently declining an offered hand or two. He had an actual assignment here this evening, and demonic forces were supposed to be present. Crowley hadn’t alerted him to any upcoming work, and he worried about who may have been sent and for what reason.

Yet nothing in the stately manner seemed to be amiss. The gathering was joyful, and the people were all in high spirits. It was infectious to the angel, and he found his own mood soaring with them.

After yet another fair lady attempted to woo him to dance, he decided to retire to a corner where he could more easily watch the room. A guardian he was, and that could simply be his role this evening.

That was when he finally spotted familiar flaming hair.

Crowley wore a lavish gown as they were twirled among multiple suitors, each vying for their attention. With a wave of a hand, Crowley demurely turned away both men and women.

Aziraphale couldn’t keep his eyes off the demon. The way the gown hugged their hips, the flip of the long curled hair, and the smile. A normal human body couldn’t move the way his serpent could. Alluring and devilishly beautiful, they turned as they danced.

The expression on Crowley’s face was what drew him in the most. It was rare to see the demon so relaxed and carefree. It made Aziraphale’s heart sing. He wished he could give Crowley this every day, always.

Before he realized what he was doing, he stood and moved away from the wall.

Part 1 of 3

Prompt Five: Willing to Swear

“That’s right, officer,” Crowley purred as he leaned over the desk of A.Z. Fell & Co. “There’s no way that Mutt could have been removing anti-homeless architecture last night. You see, he was here most of the evening. Why I’d even be willing to go on the record.”

The officer glanced at his notepad, clearly not convinced. As focused as he was on the man in front of him, Crowley neglected to consider the angel that stood next to him.

“But Crowley, we were restocking—”

Without a word, Crowley’s boot stomped down on Muriel’s foot in an attempt to silence them. He chalked another lesson up to the ones he’d need to give as he smiled winningly at the officer.

“Would Miss—”

“Mx, if you must,” Crowley cut in. “They would not. Muriel, could you please go check the lights upstairs? I’m fairly certain I left them on.”

Muriel craned their neck, “But I can see from—”

Suppressing a groan, Crowley snapped his fingers under the desk. He was satisfied by Muriel’s soft oh.

“Lights, Muriel. Maybe check the circuits, if they’re going on and off. If you’re not sure how to do that, there should an engineering book on the shelf… oh, back room. Lower right.” There was certainly no engineering book there, but sorting through those stacks without titles should buy him at least long enough to get rid of the pest currently occupying the Bookshop.

As Muriel scurried off, the officer raised an eyebrow. “It would see Mister…”

“Mx,” Crowley corrected again. “Mx Crowley. Yes, officer?”

The man let out a huff of frustration, “It would see Mx Crowley that your younger apprentice’s account differs from yours.”

“Oh, they’re not my…” There was no point in trying to explain that. Or that neither had a legal right to actually be in the shop. Because his angel and the owner of the shop had taken what felt like Crowley’s entire heart to a place he could not follow. “Anyway, Muriel is helpful but a little forgetful. I’m sure they were confusing it with, erm, the other night when we were doing stocking.”

“You are aware that giving false testimony is a criminal offense?”

How would Aziraphale handle this? It’d be so much easier to freeze this man, plant the memories he’d like, and move on. Instead, Crowley leaned in closer. “I’m aware. Mutt was here. I’ll attest to it.” He certainly wasn’t going to let any of their shopkeepers be harmed with their guardian temporarily making questionable decisions.

When the officer opened his mouth again, Crowley glanced to the back room to ensure Muriel wasn’t paying them any attention before he snapped his fingers. The man’s mouth clamped shut. “You will return to your station with the full belief that Mutt had nothing to do with any of the supposed crimes last night. Knowing that everyone in this shop swore an airtight alibi with video footage to boot. You’ll further reconsider investigating so-called crimes like this.” After a moment’s hesitation he begrudgingly added, “When you come out of this you’ll feel like you had a, ugh, nice conversation about whatever you like best.”

Another snap and the officer dazedly looked about the shop for a moment. “Well, that seems to clear everything up!” he said cheerfully. I’ll be on my way then, and thank you for your assistance.

Once he was sure the man was well on his way, Crowley headed to the back room, grabbing a book off the shelf as he passed it. “Here,” he tossed it to them. “I’ll take care of the lights, I think that one may be more important for you.”

They looked at the cover curiously, “Fahrenheit 451? A book on burning things?”

“Give it a try, Bee. Sometimes the right thing well… it’s a bit of shades of grey,” his heart ached at the words. “You’ll get it. Hopefully a bit faster. But sometimes the right thing, well, it’s not always what the humans, or anyone else, says is right.”

Muriel sat back on the floor and opened the book. Crowley nodded to himself and returned to the desk where he waited patiently hoping the next being through the door would be an angel.

Prompt Three and Four: I may be right, I may be wrong

It wasn’t that Aziraphale didn’t want Heaven to win. Of course he did! They were the side of good, the ones who followed Her plan and would be bound to protect it. It was the correct side to be on, surely.

Then why did it feel so wrong to fight his fallen siblings?

Still, he was doing the right thing. He had been told so. Aziraphale intentionally chose not to look too closely at those who seemed to enjoy the battle and striking down the demons, casting them from Heaven one final time. He ignored the ache in his heart, shutting it away as best he could.

The platoon that followed him kept to his orders. They were merciful and kind where they could be. Far fewer fell to their weapons for good than were cast out, given a chance at… who knew. Perhaps there could be redemption for them one day. There was no way to know Her plan.

His commander had given him terse orders to clear this sector, and he would. To keep the Fallen from hurting anyone else.

At this stage, they were quickly moving to clean-up operations. He gestured his platoon to split up, each handling separate buildings, searching for those who had escaped.

Aziraphale stepped into one by himself, hurriedly clearing the rooms until he was at the last closet. He flung it open, flaming sword drawn.

The demon cowered, hands flying up to shield his face. The familiar red curls bobbed with the movement.

No, his heart screamed even as he froze. He hadn’t seen his—the Starmaker for days. He’d hoped the redhead had been far away from the enemy lines or perhaps at the planning offices. All he’d wanted was for this being’s safety. Aziraphale instinctively lowered his sword. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he whispered.

The Starmaker lowered his hands. It pained Aziraphale to see the wings gone black and the eyes turned yellow. Yet what else could he do? He offered a hand and pulled the redhead to his feet. The Starmaker was still beautiful, how could he not be? But there would be no way to hide him among the Heavenly Host.

“I didn’t… Aziraphale you know me. I didn’t hurt anyone.”

The Starmaker may have had questions, but even those were about making the world better. This, though, was considerably worse. He had warned him. Aziraphale hated having those fears confirmed. “I know,” he finally admitted to them both. “But you can’t stay here, you have to know that. There are others coming.”

Heaven would tell him he was wrong, yet Aziraphale could not help himself. He pulled the Starmaker into a tight embrace, kissing his forehead gently. “As I said, I won’t hurt you. But you must leave, you understand? Many are not showing any mercy.”

“I saw,” the redhead choked out. “How?”

Aziraphale held the Starmaker’s hand as he moved towards the nearest window. Assuring himself that his platoon was to the other side he whispered hurried instructions on where demons—he winced as he said the word—were being thrown. If the Starmaker hurried, his wings were still intact. He could glide down instead of the horrible fall so many were facing.

The Starmaker—and Aziraphale tried not to think too hard about the other name the one he could no longer quite reach that had been wiped from the Heavens itself—lifted Aziraphale’s hand and kissed the back of it. “Thank you.”

“I promised,” Aziraphale vowed, “That I would always be there. Always protect you. Nothing will change that.”

A thousand nights spent flitting among the cosmos, countless gentle touches, and this was where they had been brought.

“Will I ever see you again?” The Starmaker asked.

Aziraphale was terrified of the answer. “My dear, I surely hope so.”

There was a bang and shout of his second in command at the front of the building. The redhead’s eyes widened in terror.

“Go!” Aziraphale hissed. “Be safe.”

With a backward glance, the Starmaker slipped from the window and between the buildings that had been checked. Aziraphale sent a quiet prayer after him. Please, for me protect him. He watched until the red hair disappeared in the distance and he hoped.

No other choice lay before him, Aziraphale turned to rejoin his platoon.

Nightingale May Prompt Two: Angels dining at the Ritz

The Bentley was not immune to the way Aziraphale’s hand traced over her dash as if in thank you as he climbed from the car at the Ritz. She hummed contentedly, ignoring the pleased humph from her demon as he hurried to the angel’s side. He had been excited tonight, her beloved, as he’d ushered the angel into the car. And Bentley was determined to find out why.

As she settled into her normal spot, she reached her senses to hear what was happening in the crowded restaurant. It was easy seeking out the two beloved auras. Yet so far, this meal seemed like any other. That was alright, she could wait.

A tug on her door forced her to hold them shut as she slammed the locks down.

“Damn it,” the man muttered. He was dressed in the dark hues her owner favored, but this shorter man was clearly not him. Brown hair snuck out from under his cap as he hurriedly dug into his bag and pulled out a lock-picking kit.

That simply would not do. Did he not know she had more important beings to focus on this evening? As the man tried to pick her locks she spared half of a thought to shifting them so they would be impossible to open as she tried to listen in on the angel at the table explaining something about Bookshop, her other beloved.

Perhaps the mention of Bookshop distracted her because a moment later the thief had her door open. With what would have been a sigh in a human, Bentley turned her radio up as loud as it would go.

Freddie’s voice blared through the car, causing the man to stumble backward. The words “I don't have no time for no monkey business” should echo in his head quite loudly if she’d got the volume correct. Bently primly shut her door and went back to her business. Crowley was pontificating about what wine to pair with dinner, that may be take a bit.

The thief hadn’t taken the hint and was back at the door again. She flicked her mirror, smacking him. This gave him at least a little pause where the deafening car radio-alarm had not, but a moment later he was back at it with the lock pick kit.

That was quite enough. Checking in on her two favorite breathing beings, Bentley confirmed they were still awaiting the main course and did some quick math. She knew every street in this town, and she had plenty of time. With a rev of her engine she threw the car door open.

Humans were not always the brightest, she reflected as the man greedily climbed into the seat. She wasn’t a monster and while she knew her regular passengers declined, humans did prefer seatbelts didn’t they?

If this one happened to tie the man’s hands down, there was no reason for him to touch her wheel as she pulled into traffic, already racing. Aziraphale had complained about doing a hundred miles per hour through central London, but he didn’t know that Bentley always slowed down just a smidgen for him. As she screeched to a halt in front of the police station and loosened the belt, the man scrambled from the car on his hands and knees.

A curious onlooker helped him to his feet as Bentley hurried back to her station, anxious to not miss anything important.

Crowley stood outside, arms crossed.

Fuck.

She had expected a brief lecture from the demon about driving unaccompanied. Instead, he leaned against her his lithe body pressed against the car door, “Didn’t hurt you, did he?”

Insulted, she revved her engine for a moment.

The demon chuckled as he rested a forehead against the cool glass of the window. “Good girl,” he whispered. She purred in response.

Aziraphale was not with him, she realized. With a quick check, she realized the angel was inside, feeling mildly worried.

Beyoncé’s voice rolled from her speakers “…put a ring on it…”

“Oi! Don’t you start getting involved,” the demon groaned. “I know, I will…eventually…”

Hopeless, that one was. She begrudgingly settled lower nestling into her spot once more.

“Don’t go judging me,” he grumbled. “Should get back though. You stay out of trouble.”

It was only half-heartedly that she let her senses fly once more, keeping a watch over her two beings. She daydreamed about what could be if they’d only allow it, she could have the angel visit her so much more often! In fact, she’d stopped paying attention at all by the time they returned.

That was until Crowley’s hands graced her wheel once more and she realized there, was, indeed a ring there. A piece of Aziraphale worn on her demon’s finger, clear as day to anyone who would notice.

If she was a bit joyful on the ride home, neither of them called her out on it.

Nightingale May Prompt One: Night We Met

As Furfur disappeared, Crowley deflated on the sofa curling in on himself. Aziraphale’s heart stuttered in his chest at the look of defeat on the demon’s face.

“I should make myself scarce, they’ll be here soon…” he trailed off, not daring to meet Aziraphale’s gaze.

He didn’t know. That was excellent, it meant there was a chance the other demon hadn’t noticed his switch, either. If it all played out, he could keep Crowley safe. “Come to the Bookshop with me.”

“Not painting a target on your back, angel,” the demon bit out.

With a frustrated huff, Aziraphale crossed the room to take Crowley’s hand, startling the demon into facing him. He couldn’t say anything outright, they weren’t safe here and Furfur could figure out the truth at any moment. He tried to give weight to his words as he spoke, “There is nowhere I’d rather be this evening than in your company.”

The demon’s head bobbed slightly as he swallowed. Aziraphale couldn’t feel the terror rolling off him, but it was plain as day. It had only been a matter of hours since Crowley had waltzed back into his life, and he would keep him safe no matter the cost. This night was theirs and he wasn’t going to let some upstart demon vying for a promotion ruin it.

“Please,” Aziraphale added softly.

That was enough, Crowley was on his feet and leading the angel from the theater. By the time they made it to the Bentley, she’d thrown his door open as if understanding her owner was in a rush.

If he’d thought the earlier mad dash through London had been worrisome, it was a gentle stroll compared to how the car tore through the streets now. “Don’t want them to find us here,” was all Crowley offered as an explanation.

There was an actual screech as they stopped in front of the shop and a heartbeat later, Crowley opened Aziraphale’s door. He paused until Aziraphale held out his hand, almost demandingly. The demon helped him from the car and Aziraphale took the lead to the shop.

Clumsy fingers fumbled with the keys distracted by the nervous tension in his partner at his side. He could feel the protection swirl around them for an instant as they both stepped over the threshold.

Home it seemed to echo to the pair. Still, he took the time to draw the curtains before placing out some candles and wine. As Crowley sank into the chair and Aziraphale poured the glasses, the moment was set for his reveal.

The relief was palpable when Crowley saw the photo.

Shades of grey echoed through Crowley’s thoughts. As if thousands of years could be reduced to one monochromatic tone. Aziraphale’s eyes glinted grey, then green, then blue never able to rest. His beautiful angelic rainbow, hidden in plain sight.

“We should destroy the evidence, you know.”

“It’d be a shame, though. Evidence that I performed at the West End!”

Aziraphale’s smile calmed his heart and soothed his soul. He still hadn’t quite given up on retaliation coming for him, but he knew they were protected here and now and that was what mattered most. Well, that Aziraphale was safe here with him at any rate.

The angel stood, taking the photograph with him. He pulled a battered journal from the shelf and slid the precious souvenir between the pages before returning it to its rightful place. No one would be able to find it again besides Aziraphale, of that he was certain.

Crowley tossed his glasses to the table and fiddled with the radio until he found gentle music. Something about a nightingale song. He’d been so focused he hadn’t realized Aziraphale was beside him until the angel once more took his hand.

“You came with me, even though you thought it was your last night on Earth,” Aziraphale said softly.

“‘Course,” Crowley grumbled out. “Not like I’d spend it with anyone else.”

The angel was close. Almost too close. “I am relieved it won’t be. We’ve only just met again. Is there… that is…” he took a steadying breath. “Is there anything you would have liked from this night?”

You. Crowley didn’t say aloud. Instead, he only leaned closer one hand raising to cup Aziraphale’s cheek before he froze. The angel understood and closed the distance between them, bringing their lips together in a soft and chaste kiss.

It was everything he’d always wanted. The song warbled in the background about dreams and truths, and all Crowley knew was that he’d cling to this moment for the rest of his existence.