SUMMARY: Aziraphale knew he wasn't supposed to go to France in the middle of a bloody Revolution. Especially dressed up like an aristocrat. But, in his defense, he was hungry and just wanted some crepes. He just didn't expect to actually get captured.
Good thing his Alpha is always there to save the day.
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A/N: Alright guys, this one-shot takes place after Crowley/Aziraphale have Mated and gotten officially together and takes place during the French Revolution. :D I HOPE YOU ENJOY! \o/
This chapter deals with attempted rape/non-con, blood, sex and violence, so if any of that is triggering for you in any way, I could highly recommend maybe skipping over this one.
Disclaimer: I do not own Good Omens or any related materials.
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The second that the guard has him shackled to the wall, Aziraphale realizes that this might not have been his best idea.
All he wanted was some crepes. And yes, it might not have been a good idea to come to France right now. At least, not dressed the way he was but Aziraphale has standards, okay? He sure as Hell wasn't going to beat himself up for that, right? Right?
God, his Alpha is going to kill him.
Shifting in the hard, metal chair he was not so eloquently shoved into, the Omega twiddles his fingers, shivering a little as the cold air of the cell blows across his face.
Out of the corner of his eye, Aziraphale can see the way the guard is eyeing him from his place near the door, the way the man's dark gaze raked over the angel's legs and lingers on his neck.
He knows that his outfit makes him look, well, desirable, but to see it reflected in dark Alpha eyes that aren't his mate?
Aziraphale feels like he's going to throw up.
His Mating Mark burns against the back of his neck and the angel bites his lip. Clearing his throat, Aziraphale lifts up one hand and adjusts his cravat, effectively drawing the human's stare away from his throat.
The man blinks, his bearded face stretching in an amused smirk.
"Do you think it would be possible for you, uh, to loosen these shackles?" The angel asks, shaking a wrist and listening as the metal clanks. "They are quite unnecessary, I can assure you."
The guard barked out a laugh, shaking his head and takes a sudden step closer. His scent, dirty and smelling of rotting logs and unwashed socks, nearly causes Aziraphale to gag, unable to keep from flinching. The Frenchman stops near the back of Aziraphale's chair, his protruding stomach an uncomfortable weight against the angel's upper-back.
"Pretty." Is all the man says, reaching down and Aziraphale shrinks back a little under his harsh touch, trembling in fear as the Frenchman's chipped nails trail down his cheek. "Pretty Englishman. Too bad you must die."
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Ineffable Instincts
Fanfiction(NSFW 18+) Being an Angel and a Demon is difficult. Being an Omega Angel Bonded to an Alpha Demon? Things are about to get even tougher, but luckily both Aziraphale and Crowley have each other to help share the load. "To run with the wolf was to run...
