#goloveday

[sadlynojellybeans]

@parmelde suggested a date at the Globe for the @goloveday exchange, and here it is!

"Can you even park here?!"

"Don't worry angel, nobody will notice."

"Let's go inside."

"This certainly brings back memories!"

"They did a really good job when they rebuilt it, don't you think?"

"How about we have dinner at the Ritz?"

:)

[cinnamontoastensketches]

I’m a little bit late for @goloveday but here’s my gift for my partner @piakichu based off of their wonderful fic that you can read here

[eriathalia]

This artwork is for the lovely @janara7 as my part of the @goloveday Valentines day exchange.

Surprises and mishaps or, as Crowley would say, "That went down like a lead balloon"

Hope you like it :)

[dogboy-willgraham]

My Golove exchange gift for @okionlywanttoreadforever! Sorry it's a bit short, but I hope you enjoy! @goloveday

-

Aziraphale could get used to this.

He watched out the kitchen window as Crowley stood in the yard, four small goats butting at his knees as he tried to feed them grain out of his hand. He nearly choked on his tea laughing when Crowley was brought to the ground by a well placed butt.

“Do you need some help darling?” Aziraphale asked as he stepped out into the yard.

“No,” Crowley said, before changing his mind as Chaos, the black one, sat down on his legs. “Maybe...”

Aziraphale laughed again, and pushed the goats away from Crowley, then helping his demon back up on his feet.

“I could’ve gotten up on my own angel,” Crowley grumbled, adjusting his sun hat.

“Absolutely dear,” Aziraphale smiled and brushed off some dirt from Crowley’s face. “Those goats of yours give you a lot of trouble don’t they?”

“Makes a demon proud,” Crowley grinned. “Anyway, they’re not as troublesome as your chickens,”

“Oh, really now?”

“Could be demons themselves angel,” Crowley said. “Terrors,”

“You’re just scared of them because you’re all snakey,” Aziraphale teased.

“M’not!” Crowley responded, offended at the notion that he would ever be afraid of a little silkie hen.

“Mhm,” Aziraphale hummed. “Well, breakfast is ready, would you like to come in and get some?”

“What’s it today angel?”

“Crepes and baked apples love,” Aziraphale answered. “And there’s a black coffee for you on the table as well,”

“Sounds great,” Crowley grinned. “Let’s go in,”

Aziraphale hooked his arm in Crowley’s as they walked. “Oh, would you like to go to St. James this afternoon? Feed the ducks?”

“Absolutely Aziraphale,”

They could get used to this

[goloveday]

💜FRIENDS💜

Who would be interested in another round of GO LOVE DAY? Exchanging fics and fan arts for Valentine's Day featuring, of course, The Ineffable Husbands?

Like and reblog to give us a good idea of who would want to participate. Don't worry, even if it's just a couple we'll do something!

[new-endings]

Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens) Additional Tags: Fantasy AU, Fluff, Getting Together, Florist Crowley, Potions Master Aziraphale, love potions, but not the kind you expect, GOLoveDay, Valentine's Day, Bantering, flirting by annoying the heck out of each other

My fic for the gift exchange for @goloveday headed by @snek-snuggles

The very first thing to come out of Aziraphale’s frowning mouth was: “I thought I told you no refunds.”

Crowley rolled his eyes, the beginnings of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “What good is a love potion if it won’t make you fall in love with me?”

Instead of his heart doing somersaults in his chest and absolutely swooning, Aziraphale chose to immediately bristle. “I told you before, that’s not what they do—”

***Written for GO Love Day***

for the lovely @alwayscomewhenyoucall!~ Happy Valentine’s Day my dear and I do hope you enjoy it~ 

[saer-m]

Heart-shaped chocolates

So excited to post this for my first ever gift exchange! Happy Valentine’s everyone, and especially @warcats-cat (I hope you like your gift!) and @goloveday (thank you for putting event this together! xx) 💜💜

Posted on AO3 here (bc idk what the formatting on this site is doing rn!)

Crowley glared at the bin and wondered if it would be overly dramatic to set it on fire.

Look, the shiny, tacky – stupid idea – box of chocolates deserved it, alright.

A woman in a smart green coat walked past, disrupting his sight of the bin from where he leant against cold metal railings. He transferred his glare to her for good measure and grimaced when she glared right back. Londoners.

Sighing, he untangled himself from the iron bars and set off walking, allowing himself to be aimless for now as he tried to figure some way out of this unmitigated disaster– this travesty – bloody hell, what was the point of surviving the apocalypse if this was the kind of thing he had to deal with? He stole past shops, and told himself he wasn’t noticing the glittery, mass-produced hearts that were smeared across all their window-displays.

Continue reading on AO3! 💜💜

[jay-the-day-away]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29450820

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings

Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)

Additional Tags: Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), Crying Crowley (Good Omens), Insecurity, Insecure Crowley (Good Omens), Self-Esteem Issues, Autistic Aziraphale (Good Omens), Autism, First Kiss, Good Omens Valentines Day Fan Exchange

Summary: Aziraphale hates making eye contact, Crowley thinks it's because of his serpent eyes, but is there more going on here?

My piece for the Good Omens Love Day fic exchange for Valentine's Day 2021 is up on Ao3! This fic is for @freyjawriter24

@goloveday (:

[mothmans-favorite-lamp]

Here's my art for @ineffablefeather for the GO valentine's day exchange, hosted by @goloveday

sorry it's late-

[general-nonspecific]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29417997

I made this for @cinnamontoasten for the @goloveday fic swap! Thanks so much for patience on the part of my partner and to the admins for allowing me to participate!

[ineffably-good]

There’s A First Time For Everything

This is my submission for the 2020 Good Omens Valentines Day swap, written for @eveningstarcatcher. Enjoy!

--

 “Dearest,” Aziraphale said, rolling over in the morning light to run a hand up Crowley’s back. “You know what next Friday is, don’t you?”

Crowley raised an eyebrow. “Uh… a Friday?”

“Anything else?”

Crowley thought. He thought some more. He came up with nothing. “No,” he finally said, admitting defeat. “I really don’t. What is it?”

Aziraphale smiled encouragingly at him. “It’s our first Valentine’s day since we officially became a couple.”

“Oh… Oh angel, no,” Crowley groaned. “You have to know that demons don’t celebrate Valentine’s Day. It’s pretty much not allowed. That’s all about your side – angels and cherubs shooting their tiny, adorable arrows into someone’s posterior. We mostly just stay home and get drunk on days like that.”

“I thought we didn’t have sides anymore,” Aziraphale said a little sadly.

“We don’t! We don’t! It’s our side for sure, angel,” Crowley said, backpedaling. “It’s just – old habits die hard and the day kind of gives me the creeps. All that forced happiness and fake romance.”

Aziraphale’s smile faltered a little. “So – so you don’t want to do anything to celebrate?”

Crowley rolled over onto his side to face the angel. “I didn’t say that! I want to celebrate being with you. I love you, you know that. I just don’t want to do it on Valentine’s Day. I want to do it every day. Besides, did you know he’s the patron saint of epilepsy, too? It’s not like we’re going to go have a seizure in his honor, are we?”

“I did not know that,” Aziraphale sniffed, “and no we aren’t.”

“Plus, really, the truth behind the legend is just gross, angel. He wrote a letter to a woman who’s sight he had restored and signed it “from your Valentine” right before he was beaten to death with clubs. Beaten. To Death. That’s hardly romantic, is it? And he was just signing his name, anyways.”

Aziraphale rolled out of bed and pulled on his tartan dressing gown. “It certainly is not,” he said distantly. “You’ve made your point, my dear.”

Aziraphale made his way into the bathroom, and a few minutes later Crowley heard the bath running and caught the scent of the vanilla bath salts the angel preferred lately. He smiled, happy to have settled that argument in his favor, and threw on some clothes to go out and get the angel some pastries and a coffee.

--

“Heya, angel,” Crowley said, the shop door jingling behind him as he returned. The angel was sitting at his desk working on something. “Brought you a coffee and a chocolate muffin.”

“Thank you my dear,” the angel said with a smile, taking the offered sweets and turning back to his work. “You’ll pardon me, I hope, but I just have to get started on the new inventory.”

“Oh,” the demon replied, surprised. “I thought we were going to the park.”

“I’d love to, but a new shipment came in yesterday, and you know I’ve been trying to keep the records more up to date.” Aziraphale straightened his bowtie. “I’m afraid I have to get this done while it’s still fresh in my mind or I’ll mix up all the details.”

That, Crowley knew, was a lie. Aziraphale never forgot the slightest detail about any book in his collection. Sometimes he liked to play a game where he wandered around the shop at random and pulled a book out of some obscure corner and asked Aziraphale some obscure fact about its printing date, number of pages, where he bought it from, or what it was worth – and honestly, the angel had never missed once. Not once. He knew that even if the angel put the new shipment in a corner for the next hundred years, he would never lose track of any of the info he needed to know.

Crowley plopped down on the couch and observed the angel through narrowed eyes. What was he up to? He took a deep sip of his cappuccino and contemplated. Could it have been the epilepsy comment? Was that insensitive to sick people?

“You know,” Crowley said casually, “I have nothing against epileptics.”

Aziraphale turned and gave him a strange look. “What a relief,” he said acerbically.

Crowley met his gaze in confusion. “Well – yes,” he sputtered. “I didn’t want their to be any confusion.”

Aziraphale shook his head the tiniest amount, then turned back to his desk and picked up his pen.

 --

Crowley, unable to take the odd and rising level of tension in the shop, eventually fled, pleading “demonic errands,” and instead went down to his favorite local pub for a whiskey and a talk with his friend Diana, the bartender.

“So,” Diana said, leaning forward on the counter. “What’s got you in here at two in the afternoon?”

Crowley ran a hand through his hair. “It’s Aziraphale,” he admitted. “He’s being weird.”

Diana looked around and noted that her only other customer seemed quite contented with the pint in front of him, and settled in for a talk. “Weird how?”

“I dunno, it’s like maybe he’s upset with me about something? But I haven’t done anything and I don’t know what it could be.”

“Anything unusual happen this morning?”

“We were talking about Valentine’s Day,” he said.

“And?”

“And I told him that my people don’t celebrate that, and that Saint Valentine was in no way the patron saint of romance, and he got horribly butchered, and it’s a sappy holiday for suckers.”

Diana stared at him flatly, her dark brown eyes flashing. “Can’t imagine what might be bothering him,” she said heavily.

“What?”

“It’s your first time in a couple in a long time, isn’t it?” she asked with a smirk.

“So what if it is?” Crowley realized his voice sounded a tad defensive.

His friend reached behind the counter and poured them both a shot of something. He sniffed it suspiciously, decided he didn’t care what it was, and downed it in a single shot.

“Listen up,” she said, fixing him with a strong look. “You might not think Valentine’s Day is important, and that’s all well and could, but what if he thinks it’s important?”

“He’s an –” he started to say ‘ethereal being’ and stopped himself by the skin of his teeth. “He’s a sophisticated, urban, educated person. He’s never shown any interest in this kind of thing in all the years I’ve known him. And I’ve known him for a long, long time.”

Diana thought for a moment. “In all of that time you’ve known him, has he ever been in a relationship on Valentine’s Day before?”

Crowley thought. “You know, I don’t think so.”

She raised an eyebrow. “And so –”

“And so? Spit it out, woman.”

She rolled her eyes. “It’s his first one. You’re newly in love. Perhaps he’s gotten a little caught up in it.”

Crowley felt the blood drain from his face.

He was a fool.

He was a bloody, enormous fool.

Of course Aziraphale was excited about it. Aziraphale loved rituals and holidays and got excited about each and every one of them. And of course he’d never had an opportunity to have anyone make a fuss over him on a romantic holiday before. And he had rained all over the angel’s happiness about it with his morbidity and jadedness.

He dropped his face into his hands. “Oh, for the love of – “

“You’re an idiot,” Diana supplied helpfully.

“I am,” he said agreeably. “What do I do?”

“Well,” she said, “you just have to figure out some way of showing him that he’s special. You can figure it out.”

“How did you get so smart?” he groused. “And pour me one more, will you?”

“Comes with the territory,” she said, reaching for the good stuff.

 --

“So,” Crowley said that night as they were watching a film and working their way methodically through a takeaway curry or two. “I was thinking about that Valentines thing you brought up this morning.”

Aziraphale kept his eyes on the television but raised his eyebrows in curiosity. “Were you?” he asked.

“I think I may have spoken a little rashly,” he said.

“Oh,” the angel said, dismissively, still following the action, “no you didn’t, really it’s fine.”

Crowley waved a hand and paused the screen. “Listen to me,” he said, “I’m trying something new here.”

Aziraphale turned to him, uncertain. “And that would be what?”

“I’m saying – you’ve never had a Valentine’s Day before. I’ve never had one either. Maybe it would be fun to do something.” He swallowed. “You know. Since we –” He made a hand waving gesture that somehow encompassed the room, the shop, the two of them, and, he hoped, his feelings.

Gestures, he thought, could say so much.

Aziraphale gave him a tiny, knowing smirk. “Oh, well, when you put it that way,” he said slyly.

Crowley rolled his eyes. “I’m saying I’m game for Valentine’s Day,” he said. “Let’s make it a good one, okay?”

Aziraphale smiled happily. “Well if you’re sure,” he said.

“Leave the planning to me,” Crowley said. “I’m on top of it.”

 He was not on top of it. But he would, he decided, figure it out. 

--

“What are we doing tonight?” Aziraphale asked the following Friday. “You haven’t actually told me.”

“It’s a surprise,” Crowley said. “Just wear something nice and be ready at eight for me to pick you up.”

He went home to Mayfair and worked hard on an outfit and double checked his plans on his mobile. Dinner reservations were all set. He straightened his tie in the mirror and set out with a jaunty swing to his step to go get his angel. He had even chosen a new CD from a shop earlier in the day, something old-fashioned and croony that he knew the angel would like, and he unwrapped it quickly, snapping away the plastic, and put it in the stereo at a low volume as he made his way across town. If he was lucky, they’d make it through most of the night before it reverted to Queen.

Besides, he thought, if inside he was pretending it was just an ordinary date night, it was no one’s business. He didn’t need bloody February 14th to be romantic; he was Anthony J. Crowley and he could be romantic any time he wanted. But if it was important to his angel, he was going to do his best to show him a good time.

He stopped at the door of the shop, thought for a minute, and knocked instead of entered.

It took a few minutes for Aziraphale to answer the door. He looked surprised when he did. “You knocked?” he asked. “Why didn’t you come in?”

Crowley took a moment to appreciate the angel in his nicest cream-colored suit, one he usually only wore to weddings and other special occasions. Unlike the rest of his clothing, this outfit had the advantage of being both made in the current century and also being more form fitting that most of the heavy layers he usually wore, revealing his shape nicely. He’d paired it with a pale blue tie that matched his eyes almost perfectly.

“Ngk,” he said, then cleared his throat and started again. “I wanted to pick you up at the door for our date. You know. Old-fashioned, like.” He held out an arm to Aziraphale.

Aziraphale gave him a deeply dimpled smile and took the offered arm, allowing Crowley to escort him to the passenger seat.

“You look nice,” he added on the way.

“So do you, my dear.”

 --

Later that night, after their dinner at a quiet, intimate Italian place, after a walk in the park during which the moon was somehow more full and brighter than any weatherman had expected, after a late night gelato at a local shop that unexpectedly had no other customers and all of the angel’s favorite obscure flavors, they wandered back to the bookshop and nuzzled together on the couch.

“Did you have a nice night, angel?” Crowley said. “I’m sorry the restaurant was so loud, and that the cocoa powder on the tiramisu made you sneeze, and I hope the duck incident on our walk didn’t –”

“My dear,” Aziraphale said, “what on earth are you talking about? Tonight was perfect. Just perfect.”

“But the duck took the –  right out of your -- ” Crowley spluttered.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale cut in more firmly. He took the demon’s hand and all but forced him to be silent. “Listen to me. It was lovely, and romantic, and perfect. No one has ever made such an effort for me before. It meant the world to me.”

Crowley made a strangled noise in his throat and, finding speech impossible, decided to focus instead on simply not bursting into flames. He thought cooling thoughts. Water. Ice. Hailstorms. Freezer sections at the grocers.

Aziraphale, seeing his conflict, leaned in and gave him a slow and tender kiss. “Happy Valentines Day, my love. I hope we have many more.”

“We will have all of them, angel,” Crowley mumbled, before kissing him back. “Every single one.”

[thelasthomelyurl]

he wakes and all is well: a Good Omens Valentine’s Day oneshot

I volunteered to be an emergency match for @goloveday​ and got to write a small gift for @btab66 It’s a little piece of fluff that I had fun writing and hope you enjoy!

Title: he wakes and all is well Fandom: Good Omens Pairing: Ineffable Husbands (Aziraphale/Crowley) Rating: G Word count: 1k

Read it on AO3 or below the cut!

Aziraphale wakes up. He’s not used to waking up, not yet, because he is not used to sleeping, but he thinks that he could grow to like it, because sleeping means listening to the deep rhythm of Crowley’s breath until all is serene and still, means all of his senses being filled with Crowley at the start of every day.

He’s warm, because he wakes up in the flannel sheets they bought together, Crowley and he, and they had bickered about colors and patterns before coming to agreement: warm ivory sheets and duvets as deep as the night sky.

Sunlight is streaming in through the open window; it must be nearly noon, and that reminds the angel of just how late they’d stayed up the night before, drinking and playing chess and fibbing outrageously about their own past involvement in historical events. The night before that it had been tapas and a debate about which Shakespeare theories had the least merit. The night before that had been silence and firelight and warm blankets.

Crowley isn’t there, but that is alright. The warmth of him lingers in the sheets, the scent of him is wrapped around Aziraphale like an extra blanket. And Aziraphale can wake up to his absence without dread, these days. His fears have subsided in the face of long years of habitual contentedness and safety.

And he smells pancakes. Neither of them has any great culinary expertise, but it has been pleasant to start learning together. Attempts which Aziraphale would have found tedious on his own become delightful when Crowley sneaks up behind him for a hug or holds out a spoonful of whatever they’re making for him to try. So now they mostly eat breakfast at home, and mornings stretch later and later into the day, and everything is perfect.

Aziraphale gets out of bed and pulls on his dressing gown as he makes his way to the kitchen. It’s a funny thing: he would bet that he’s spent more time in his living quarters in the past four years than in the previous two centuries combined. They’re small but have never once felt cramped with Crowley here. Sharing a home with his love is a luxury Aziraphale is sure can never lose its luster.

In the kitchen, American pancakes and a cup of tea are waiting for Aziraphale, piping hot—as they no doubt would still have been even if it had taken him hours longer to leave bed.

“Morning,” says Crowley. He’s propped up inelegantly at the other side of the table, both hands wrapped around a mug of coffee.

“And to you.���

Aziraphale sits and begins eating.

Crowley watches him.

Crowley often watches him—has been watching him since the Very Beginning, to the point that Aziraphale finds it impossible (not to mention distinctly unpleasant) to imagine Earth without Crowley’s watching. Aziraphale is, by this point, something of a connoisseur of being watched by Crowley, of the ways in which Crowley watches him: for the pleasure of a lovely thing to look at (which is flattering); to look for signs of weakness as he presents some argument or plan (which is now mercifully rare); to wait for something (which had used to flummox poor Aziraphale until he learned that the demon loved him back); to see if Aziraphale is going to ask.

He seems to love being asked. Crowley had been very forward about the whole Arrangement—perhaps as a matter of necessity—but Aziraphale has learned over the millennia that Crowley loves to wait, loves to be asked, invited, welcomed.

And Aziraphale does so love to indulge him.

“My dear,” he says lightly after a sip of tea. “This breakfast was such a lovely surprise to wake up to.”

The demon only makes a noncommittal noise, but there is nothing that Aziraphale has studied as much as Crowley’s face: the demon is holding something back.

“May I know the occasion?” he asks.

There—there’s the moment of indecision, of Crowley warring with himself over whether to preserve his aloof facade. But Aziraphale knows the demon will give in.

Not without a struggle, though: “Do I need an occasion to make breakfast?” Crowley asks.

“Goodness no,” says Aziraphale. “All the same…” he lets the sentence trail off to nothing, leaves his words hanging in the air like an invitation, and returns nonchalantly to his breakfast.

Not even a minute later, Crowley appears to give up. “It’s our anniversary,” he blurts out.

Aziraphale smiles. “Is it?”

Crowley is forever finding anniversaries for them. The anniversary of the Arrangement, of their first drink together, their first shared meal, their first night sleeping side-by-side. The anniversary of the night that Crowley rescued Aziraphale’s books during the blitz. The anniversary of the first time they fed ducks. Sometimes Aziraphale suspects that they’ll get to a point where not a week passes without an anniversary of some sort, some little celebration that Crowley has invented for them, because Crowley remembers. He hoards their milestones like a dragon’s treasure. If Aziraphale had known that before, it would have been heartbreaking. Now, though—now, when they are safe and able to celebrate anything they wish—it is a delight.

“First date,” Crowley says.

“That can’t be right. Our first date was in September, four years ago.”

Crowley shakes his head. “Not like that. The first time we made an actual plan to see each other, without the excuse of the Arrangement. Didn’t just...find each other.”

“When—oh, do you mean the theatre?”

The demon nods and rewards him with a little smile.

“Gracious, how long has it been?”

“Dunno,” says Crowley. “Just remember the date.”

February 14, 1895, Aziraphale thinks it was—one hundred and twenty-nine years. The opening of Oscar Wilde’s The Importance of Being Earnest at St James’s Theatre. He’d never thought of it that way before, but Crowley’s classification of it as a date makes sense: the very first time they’d shed the careful pretext of the Arrangement or of happenstance. Not the first step, certainly, but an important step on the road that has led them here: to breakfast in the late morning sun, to nights spent close and cozy.

“That one was your idea,” Crowley says.

The first time Aziraphale asked.

“Well,” Aziraphale says, “you always did like the funny ones.”

[somedayhero]

Happy Valentine’s Day everyone!

Coming out from my shell because I love celebrating love. (And there doesn’t seem like there is much else to celebrate these days) Oh man, it’s been a while and this is intimidating. 😶 I’m a bit out of practice, but here’s some art for these ineffable dummies. This is for the GO Valentine’s Day Exchange @goloveday for @dibs-dewdles-n-diddles - I hope you enjoy some fluff and comfort.

There was a story here that I did not get to writing a drabble for. Maybe later. ❤️

[lunarmultishine]

And Yet Another Beginning

My entry for the Valentines gift exchange organized for @goloveday for @teslatherat

Sorry it took so long, technical difficulties, and most of this was painstakingly typed out on mobile and not my best work. I  still hope you enjoy!

Crowley had left a cheesy, traditional Valentines letter in the bookshop the day before, finished "from your valentine" and all that. That's what he found his angel staring at, eyes wide and faraway, when he let himself into the shop the next afternoon.

"You... didn't mean it that way, did you?"

It only took a second for Crowley to understand what Aziraphale was saying.Saint Valentine had ended his letter that way, before he was executed.

"No, no, not at all. It's just something humans say," his throat tightened. He hadn't meant to worry his angel. It had only been months since Armageddon, and neither of them were over everything that happened. Naturally, after an event that was the culmination of 6000 years, most of their lives.

"We're safe," Crowley said softly.

"Oh," Aziraphale let out a long shaky breath, "Oh, good. I was just making sure. I was worried -" he looked down and so did Crowley. Crowley saw Aziraphale's hands, fingers laced together and trembling in front of him.

Crowley reached out a hand, putting his gently over Aziraphale's, "No, Hell or Heaven hasn't been knocking on my door with a summons to the gallows. I would tell you."

"I know." Aziraphale's voice was quiet, "I know, Crowley," he sounded stronger and his hands slowly opened, taking Crowley's hand between his. They were cold, from fright and memory perhaps. Neither of them knew every single thing that would remind or worry them. All the candles in the bookshop were put away for that reason, none of them lit for weeks. That had been a nasty surprise one evening.

here was a long moment of silence, then "Hey," Crowley started, trying to smile. It was a soft smile, gentle. One that had over the years been rare and almost exclusively directed at Aziraphale. The latter hadn't changed much, but the former was starting to, "How about we go for a ride? To the countryside, maybe?"

Aziraphale's eyes lit up, still hazel in this light, "That sounds lovely, dear. I'd be happy to."

The Bentley purred her familiar purr as they made their way in comfortable silence, both deep in thought. Crowley wouldn't take for granted having his angel beside him in the car, though. He loved the Bentley but he definitely enjoyed the added bonus of the presence of a certain angel. It always felt a bit warmer with Aziraphale by his side.

here was something peaceful in the countryside, to just see trees and greenery and flowers. Calming, knowing the world still lived out there.

They strolled for a while over a beaten path, though there was tension in the silence now, before coming to a meadow, blooming with flowers. They may or may not have had a hand in the place.

Aziraphale grinned and headed for the tall grass.

"What're you doing?" Crowley asked, trying to peer over Aziraphale's shoulder.

The angel giggled, "You'll see," he sing songed, knowing of his best friend's hopping impatience to knowing things, as clearly illustrated as Crowley tried to get a good look at what Aziraphale was doing. Aziraphale turned away,

"Alright, alright," Aziraphale laughed, as Crowley nearly fell over into a pile trying to keep up with Aziraphale, "I'm half done, look."

"A flower crown?" Crowley raised an eyebrow, but Aziraphale stretched out a hand, catching a lock of long red hair.

"I thought you'd look lovely. Though it's rather impossible to top how you look now," Aziraphale added, with a sheepish grin.

Crowley rolled his eyes as he took off the sunglasses, "Flatterer.”

"Oh," Aziraphale said softly, "Never mind what I said, you always look lovely."

Crowley was smiling at him, wasn't sure when his silly face did that, but it was. Aziraphale quickly finished and placed the crown on his head.

"What?" Aziraphale quirked a smile, watching Crowley beam at him, "You may blind me, looking at me like that."

"Sorry, angel, can't seem to stop." he took a step closer, taking Aziraphale's hand, "Y'know, there's an area near by. Real pretty. South Downs."

"Is that right?" Aziraphale's eyes crinkled as he smiled, "I think I know the place you're talking about. Some nice houses."

He had been afraid, still afraid of losing Aziraphale. Things were starting to steady, just a little, beneath their feet. The setting sun didn't mean the end, it meant another beginning, similar to the energy of creation before the Beginning, the type Crowley had shaped with his hands. Neither of them Created like they used to, but that didn't mean this was the end of it. It was a beginning, yet again.

"Yeah, 'xactly. Maybe we should go have a look," Crowley smiled, and Aziraphale reached up, hands sinking into the long curls and drawing near, holding Crowley against him as the sunset colors lit up their eyes.

[freyjawriter24]

Happy Valentine’s Day!

Here’s my @goloveday exchange fic for @jay-the-day-away!

Summary: One unremarkable day, a demon takes an angel to dinner - and the most ineffable proposal on Earth takes place.

It’s a little bit ridiculous and a little bit fluffy. I really hope you enjoy it!

[nieded]

Rating: Explicit Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Category: M/M Fandom: Good Omens (TV) Relationship:Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens) Characters: Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley (Good Omens), Gabriel (Good Omens)

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Human, Priest AU, Father Anthony - Freeform, Yeah I said it FATHER ANTHONY, Sexual Tension, Romantic Tension, Slow Burn, Inexperienced Crowley, Oral Sex, Frottage, blasphemous sex, Crowley Has a Praise Kink (Good Omens), Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), coming in clothes, Awkward Conversations, Happy Ending, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), I have been a reasonable person in my life, made mistakes, done some bad things but good too, this, this is what sends me to hell

Written for the GO VDay Exchange 2021 @goloveday for @ladybugcaptor on tumblr.

In which Aziraphale, a lonely bookseller, falls in love with the interim priest at St Edmund’s.

———–-

This was written for the lovely @ladybugcaptor on tumblr for the GO VDay Exchange 2021 @goloveday. Thank you both to the organizers of the event and to @ladybugcaptor who I hope to call a friend for a long time to come! Do you ever get an idea that eats at you, and you can’t stop writing until it’s finished? That’s what this is. @ladybugcaptor said, “Priest AU,” and I blew past the time and word limits like a person possessed.

Also, huge, HUGE thank you to Katieof0z on ao3 for the beta!