#promptposal

[charlottemadison42]

Timepiece

A new short story on AO3, 2.3k words, rated G, dedicated to the very dear @musegnome!

----

Crowley got a new watch at least once a year.

He liked them sharp and cutting-edge, bespoke and exclusive and expensive. By the time anyone else heard of the craftsman or the brand, he was ready to cast it off and find something better. From the first decorative clunkers of the early 1500's to the quartz revolution, he was always up to speed on the best of the best. Connoisseurs in Geneva and Tokyo and Dubai kept a lookout on his behalf these days. When they called, doubtless raving about a new mechanism or a new maker, he always picked up.

He didn't think about why he liked watches. If anyone had ever asked Crowley (nobody did) he'd have shrugged. His corvid instinct to collect shiny status markers was reason enough.

(And if every skip of the second hand offered proof of his progress away from the fourteenth century -- one step farther from Golgotha, farther from the flood, farther from the Fall -- that thought was seldom admitted entry to the fortress of his mind. Crowley looked forward, not back.)

Aziraphale had owned a total of four watches in his life thus far.

He liked the kind of timepiece that required winding by hand, with a little key, although he often forgot to. Luckily when he needed to know the exact time, his watch obliged him anyway.

It was conceivable that Aziraphale enjoyed the sensation of suddenly remembering, "Oh! I forgot to wind my pocketwatch!" because he delighted in having some small duty to do, a simple task at which he could not fail, a way he could help the world tick along.

For -- what was a mechanical pocketwatch, if not an elegant dynamic sculpture of the universe as humans experienced it? Aziraphale waxed philosophical about such things in the comfort of his favorite reading chair, while he smoothed the shiny etched surface with his thumb til he knew every groove. He meditated often and fondly about his watch as a Metaphor for Things.

(But the angel never asked where it might be leading him. Aziraphale looked over his shoulder at history with a loving melancholy sigh, watchfully guarding over the sum of human experience. But he did not look ahead. He hated endings.)

+++

Warlock Dowling went through an especially rambunctious phase at age six. He was old enough that his parents' neglect was starting to emerge from the background of his young reality into a Phenomenon that he Noticed. And the more Warlock Noticed it, the more he Did Not Like it, and he took it out on everyone within reach.

Nanny Ashtoreth's attempts to dress him resulted in arching and kicking and flailing fists. Brother Francis's nature walks ended with tantrums in the dirt. Warlock began to enjoy ruining things when he learned that he could: tearing up his own drawings, ripping leaves off the tulips and ferns, pouring grape juice on white linens, breaking toys. It made him feel powerful.

"Hell could learn a thing or two from this one," Crowley muttered.

"I expect they're going to, since he'll be running the show if we fail to do something about this," Aziraphale snapped in reply.

Neither angel nor demon had been prepared for the inexhaustible physical frenzy of an outraged six-year-old Antichrist.

But when Warlock finally smashed Aziraphale's pocketwatch on a paving stone in a fit of rage, the poor child broke through something else, too.

Warlock stared at the pieces of glass and the crushed face on the ground, at the minute hand all bent out of shape. He looked up at Brother Francis. He looked at Nanny, running across the lawn toward them.

And he started bawling. ...

[Click through to read more or finish on AO3]

Warlock knew that watch was special. He knew it was very old and delicate. In fact, the watch was the reason he'd learned the definitions of "fragile" and "breakable" and "irreplaceable." Once he had command of those words, he'd been allowed to hold it while seated on Brother Francis's lap. He'd even learned how to wind it, awestruck by the action and the shine. He always included the watch when he drew pictures of Brother Francis, attached by a chain of lumpy circles to the pocket of his baggy trousers.

Now the fragile breakable irreplaceable thing lay in pieces on the garden path.

Aziraphale was terrible at hiding his feelings. He was shocked and saddened, and it showed all over his face, though he did his best to suppress it. Every time Warlock looked up at him, the child cried harder.

Aziraphale was rapidly realizing that if he miracled his watch back together, even discreetly, Warlock was old enough that he would notice its reappearance. Warlock noticed everything. So the watch would have to stay at home, unworn, for several years at least -- perhaps until the end of the world. It had survived the Blitz, the trenches, the Seven Years' War, the Crimean War, and a number of unfortunate dining mishaps (though it was perhaps helped along by a few frivolous miracles). Aziraphale had not gone without it since he purchased it from the watchmaker himself back in 1689, in a dim workshop on the outskirts of Zürich. The angel felt some epoch ending. Endings made him sad. Especially these days, when they reminded him of The End.

But Crowley was there; of course Crowley was there. She scooped Warlock up in her arms even though he was getting big for that. She held him tight as he sobbed.

"Here's a how-de-do," she groaned, assessing the situation.

Aziraphale had been crouched over the ruined watch for so long now that his knees were stiff. He stood up and sighed heavily. "I suppose it's...it's only a watch," he said, dispirited. "I shouldn't grow so attached to worldly goods. ...And it's an opportunity to teach compassion, model forgiveness, and discuss respect for others' things, as well." He was letting the accent slip in his sadness, but Warlock was as far from paying attention as he could be.

"He's six! He can't track all that!" huffed Crowley.

"Well he's certainly tracking the bit about crushing the world under his heel!"

"Nnnnnrrrrrrgh," Crowley snarled in frustration. She was caught between her mandate to teach Warlock to be fantastically evil and her fear that succeeding would bring about the end of the world.

In the end, though, Warlock surprised them both by doing something entirely human, entirely his own. He cried himself out for several minutes on the lawn, and once he could speak again, he asked Aziraphale:

"Brother Francis, why did I do that?"

Then he looked to his Nanny, silently repeating the question to her with his bleary eyes.

Crowley and Aziraphale looked at one another, blinking.

"Um," said Crowley.

"...Why d'you think ye did, me lad?" asked Aziraphale, retreating from his hurt feelings into his ridiculous bucktoothed persona.

Warlock sniffed. "I don't know. I din't think it would feel like that." He squatted and poked the exposed paper of the clock face.

Crowley knelt down next to him. "Can you put it back together?" she asked.

"No."

"So what do you think you should do now?"

"Nnnno!"

"That's not even...nngh." Crowley looked helplessly to the angel. But they were both at a loss.

"Can we go inside?" Warlock finally pleaded.

And so they did. As Nanny and Warlock walked away, Crowley restored the pocketwatch with a snap of her fingers without even looking back. It was good as new once again.

But Aziraphale knew that its time had come. He picked it up, enjoying the way it fit just so in his palm -- the comfort of a handful of crystallized time -- and then he clicked it shut and sent it back home to the bookshop, where it would have to stay for now.

That evening, just before supper, Warlock showed up on the porch of the greenhouse with Nanny in tow. His little face was wrinkled up in concern and contrition and other Very Grown-Up Feelings as he presented Brother Francis with a card. It featured a colored pencil drawing of all three of them holding hands, and yellow triangles on the ground to represent the afternoon's event. The unsteady lettering inside read "soRRY for yuor wAtch From wARLock."

"I made you this," said Warlock, and he handed over the most awkward little handcrafted project. It was roughly disc-shaped, and it featured play-doh, pipe cleaners, and glitter glue. The face was sharpied directly onto the half-dried crumbling clay, and the chain was made of taped rings of construction paper.

It plucked every heartstring the angel had. He melted on the spot.

Crowley rolled her eyes as Aziraphale poured out fond words of thanks for his new watch and forgiveness for the old one, embracing Warlock between tearful phrases. But Crowley also had her least cruel smirk on, the one that was very nearly affectionate.

Before they left, Crowley also noted in a low voice that there had been no more trouble with kicking and screaming and tearing up houseplants today. Warlock had been upset twice, but had managed to calm himself down without help both times.

After she took Warlock away, Aziraphale tried to miracle protection over his new handmade treasure so that the play-doh wouldn't crumble and the paper wouldn't crush -- only to find that Crowley had already done so.

+++

Two nights later, on a crosstown bus bound for Soho, Aziraphale noticed that the lanky redheaded passenger in front of him happened to leave behind a small shopping bag when he disembarked. Aziraphale folded up his newspaper and slipped into the empty seat to take a closer look. Inside was a wooden box wrapped in plain black paper. It was marked "AZ" in black ink that was only detectable by its slightly more reflective shine.

Aziraphale opened it right there, and of course, of course it was a new pocketwatch. From Crowley. Crowley knew watches. And Crowley knew Aziraphale.

It was hard to date this one exactly, but he estimated the 1820's, and English-made; it was thin and modern and elegant, much lighter than the other. It was in excellent condition, although pleasantly worn with time. He spent the rest of the bus ride home admiring it, listening to it, growing familiar with the new face, wondering who it might have belonged to before. When he reached his stop, he slipped it into the waistcoat pocket meant for the purpose, and he felt like a new angel.

Gifts. How strange. A gift from Warlock, and a gift from Crowley. Gifts of time, restored.

Perhaps there was still time enough before the end of the world. Perhaps there might be time, after.

Aziraphale set the new pocketwatch down on his desk back at the bookshop, right next to his old favorite of several hundred years and his handcrafted masterpiece from Warlock. He had never thought to own more than one pocketwatch at a time. Now he had three.

He picked up the telephone to call the responsible party and offer sincerest thanks, but after some dithering, he decided not to. Crowley hated thanks. Crowley could even be endangered by thanks, if the two of them weren't careful.

Perhaps, instead, Brother Francis could show the new timepiece to Warlock and Nanny in the morning. He could explain how precious this watch was, since it was a gift from a friend. He could say that breaking something irreplaceable was sad, but it was not the end, not as long as the world spun on. He could talk about the way new things follow old ones -- and though the new things might be different, they could be lovely too. New things were worth holding out hope for, and worth learning to treasure, given time.

And after explaining all of that to Warlock, he could give Crowley a wink.

Which would communicate his thanks for the gift far better than any phone call.

+++

Over the next few years, Crowley found himself browsing for new wristwatches more and more often in his spare time. He bought them at a faster clip, too -- three in the year Warlock turned seven, six the year after that. Each was sturdier than the last, made to withstand impacts and temperatures and pressure that no watch was likely to encounter in the wild. But Crowley could feel the world running down, he could see the future he looked forward to contracting into nothing, and he burned with protective instincts as everything in him rebelled.

Meanwhile, Aziraphale spent more and more time with his books, especially history and memoirs. As he looked back over the story of humanity that he loved, the story he'd spent so much time recording and remembering, he felt it all spinning up to something awful indeed: The End. When Warlock turned nine, Aziraphale turned to his books of prophecy, feeling no small amount of distress. Looking ahead was painful for him, especially now. The future was unsafe, it was wild, it was ineffable, and unfortunately it looked to be very very short. Aziraphale did not forget to wind his pocketwatch anymore. It was a tool now more than a treasure, as The End drew near. It seemed important to remember what time it was, these days.

+++

As it happened, Aziraphale almost didn't notice when his fourth watch joined the collection.

In his defense, it was rather a busy day.

And since the new pocketwatch was identical to the one that Crowley had given him, down to the last molecule, it was unsurprising that making the connection took the angel a little time.

But some weeks after the End of All Things didn’t quite, Aziraphale realized that the watch in his waistcoat pocket was a gift as well. And this time it wasn't from Crowley.

When the thought occurred to him, sitting in his favorite chair in his restored bookshop, Aziraphale gasped faintly and set aside his well-worn copy of Now We Are Six. He had been revisiting children's literature lately for some reason. The Just William books had set him on a roll.

"Crowley, dear," he said.

"Nnnnghm?" Crowley hummed from the couch, where he sprawled limbless and relaxed as a squashed spider might if it were sort of into being squashed.

"We really ought to go and visit Tadfield sometime soon, don't you think?"

"Ngk."

"I have a great deal to thank Adam for, after all. And we should check in on everyone."

"Mmf."

Aziraphale palmed the fourth watch he had ever owned and ran his thumb over the back. "Do you think a wristwatch would be an appropriate belated birthday gift for someone Adam's age?" he asked absently.

Crowley windmilled himself up off the couch and sauntered over to give Aziraphale a peck on the cheek. "Hell if I know. Prob'ly. Maybe. More tea?"

"Yes, it's about that time, isn't it? Thank you, darling. Ever so."

[caffeinechic]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Good Omens (TV) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens) Characters: Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley (Good Omens) Additional Tags: Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Established Relationship, South Downs Cottage (Good Omens), Divinity Kink, Strong Aziraphale (Good Omens), Healing, Aftercare, Aziraphale Takes Care of Crowley (Good Omens), Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Genderfluid Crowley (Good Omens), He/Him Pronouns For Crowley (Good Omens), He/Him Pronouns For Aziraphale (Good Omens), Mention of blood Summary:

“Why wait?” Crowley’s voice was faint, almost a whisper, but lined with the usual forced nonchalance. “What?” Aziraphale froze, brow slightly furrowed. “Just, I don’t have to wait.” Crowley’s cheeks flushed. “Could be all better right now. I mean. I-if you wanted.” “Are you asking me to heal you?” Aziraphale’s eyes flashed with something… divine.

----

@eveningstarcatcher wrote this for me for the GO Events prom event i am a MESS

its amazing

[freyjawriter24]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Good Omens (TV) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens) Characters: Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley (Good Omens), Adam Young (Good Omens), Anathema Device, Newton Pulsifer, Pepper (Good Omens), Arthur Young | Mr Young (Good Omens), Deirdre Young, Brian (Good Omens), Wensleydale (Good Omens), Dog (Good Omens) Additional Tags: Fancy Dress Party, Ineffable Wives | Female Aziraphale/Female Crowley (Good Omens), Established Relationship, Early Days, Post-Almost Apocalypse (Good Omens) Summary:

Aziraphale and Crowley attend a fancy dress party at Adam's house. Crowley tries to figure out who Aziraphale is going as, because there's no way she's telling her.

***

Written for the Good Omens Events server's Junior Prom 2020, for my wonderful prom date @miss-minnelli.

“Angel,” Crowley said, arching a sceptical eyebrow over her sunglasses. “Do you know what a fancy dress party actually is?”

“Yes,” said Aziraphale primly, smoothing her hands down her front. “And I have decided to wear a ‘fancy dress’ to it.”

Crowley rolled her eyes. “You’re meant to dress up as a character or something, angel. Not just wear an outfit you haven’t for ages.”

“I don’t see why I can’t do both, dear.”

The demon paused for a moment at that, watching as the angel twisted to get a better look at herself in the mirror. Aziraphale fussed a little with the sleeves and waist of the dress, then deemed it suitable and turned to look at Crowley.

“Right, I should think we’re both about ready, yes?”

Crowley nodded slowly, still evaluating Aziraphale’s outfit. She’d seen her wear that exact dress before, back when it was considered usual attire, which meant it wasn’t originally intended to look like anyone in particular. But now that she was wearing it to a fancy dress party – and knew what that meant – she must have a character in mind.

“Come along then, my dear. It wouldn’t do to be late.”

There was a slight glint in Aziraphale’s eye as she smiled, and Crowley’s heart stuttered as she recognised the look. That was a thrown gauntlet, if ever there was one.

The angel wasn’t going to tell her. She’d have to figure it out for herself.

***

“Crowley!” Aziraphale couldn’t help but gasp as they stepped outside. “Your car!”

The Bentley, it appeared, had undergone something of a paint job. Its main body and roof was now a deep pinkish-red colour, perhaps closest to burgundy or maroon. The back windows had been painted out too, an elegant swirl stretching across the opaque glass.

“Thought she wouldn’t want to be left out,” the demon said, reaching out to pat the hood. “It’s only a costume, though, don’t worry. Wouldn’t ever actually repaint her.”

Aziraphale nodded, still a little thrown. Then she took a step back, and frowned at the scene for a second before brightening.

“Ah! The Bentley is your car!”

“Well observed, angel,” Crowley drawled, an amused expression on her face.

“No, I mean...”

Aziraphale glanced up at the demon, struggling for once to find the words to articulate her point, and saw Crowley smirking. Of course the demon knew exactly what she meant, and Aziraphale swiped half-heartedly at her in admonishment.

“I mean it’s your character’s car. You’ve dressed the Bentley up to look like your character’s car.”

“Yep!” The demon looked pleased with herself. She stroked a hand down her fur coat, then turned and dramatically swung the car door open. “Come along, darling! Places to go, people to see!”

Heat bloomed in Aziraphale’s cheeks. The endearment was part of the character, she knew that. But all the same...

She tried to ignore her racing pulse, and climbed into the car.

***

Read the rest on AO3 at the link above!

[rogueholmes]

for @sk3tchid aka my lovely partner at the @go-events junior prom

Summary: Aziraphale and Crowley make quite the pair.

[agrestenoir]

There’s a lipstick stain on Adrien’s face, dusting the apple of his cheek, from her quick and quiet good morning on the rooftop before dashing off to school.

His skin had flushed a deep rosy red the moment her lips touched it, and with wide eyes and dazed smile, his fingers pressed over the mark she’d left. With a smile, she kissed Chat Noir again, this time on his lips, before flicking her fingers in a short, passable wave goodbye and took off for school.

When she arrives in class, there’s Adrien, sitting in the same seat as always, with a stupid smile on his face to complete that lovesick expression, with the Berry-Bomb! lipstick mark on his cheek.

She pauses in the doorway. “Marinette?” Adrien asks when he catches sight of her. “Are you alright?”

Marinette tries to nod.

She ends up screaming instead.

[emberfaye]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Good Omens (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens) Characters: Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley (Good Omens) Additional Tags: Soulmates, Red String of Fate, 2020 promptposal, Gift Fic Summary:

Even though he hides it away, Aziraphale can still feel the red fabric around his ring finger.

[ao3feed-ineffablehusbandz]

Occupational Hazard

by Liquid_Lyrium

Aziraphale is forced to face some uncomfortable realizations after catching Crowley facing off with the Archangel of War and Wrath.

Words: 1497, Chapters: 1/3, Language: English

Fandoms: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Good Omens (TV)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M, Other

Characters: Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley (Good Omens), Angels (Good Omens), Archangel(s)

Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)

Additional Tags: Discorporation (Good Omens), Gift Fic, promptposal 2020, Jealousy, Jealous Aziraphale (Good Omens), discorporated Crowley, First Time, First Kiss, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Angel and Demon True Forms (Good Omens), Blasphemy, Anxious Aziraphale (Good Omens), Aziraphale is a Mess (Good Omens), Repressed Aziraphale (Good Omens), Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Crowley at Swordpoint, Hereditary Enemies to Lovers, Enemies to Friends to Lovers

source https://archiveofourown.org/works/24481471

[ao3feed-goodomens]

Occupational Hazard

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/3dlCMPp

by Liquid_Lyrium

Words: 1497, Chapters: 1/3, Language: English

Fandoms: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Good Omens (TV)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M, Other

Characters: Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley (Good Omens), Angels (Good Omens), Archangel(s)

Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)

Additional Tags: Discorporation (Good Omens), Gift Fic, promptposal 2020, Jealousy, Jealous Aziraphale (Good Omens), discorporated Crowley, First Time, First Kiss, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Angel and Demon True Forms (Good Omens), Blasphemy, Anxious Aziraphale (Good Omens), Aziraphale is a Mess (Good Omens), Repressed Aziraphale (Good Omens)

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/3dlCMPp

[ao3feed-crowley]

Occupational Hazard

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/3dlCMPp

by Liquid_Lyrium

Words: 1497, Chapters: 1/3, Language: English

Fandoms: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Good Omens (TV)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M, Other

Characters: Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley (Good Omens), Angels (Good Omens), Archangel(s)

Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)

Additional Tags: Discorporation (Good Omens), Gift Fic, promptposal 2020, Jealousy, Jealous Aziraphale (Good Omens), discorporated Crowley, First Time, First Kiss, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Angel and Demon True Forms (Good Omens), Blasphemy, Anxious Aziraphale (Good Omens), Aziraphale is a Mess (Good Omens), Repressed Aziraphale (Good Omens)

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/3dlCMPp

[agrestenoir]

Chloe + "H"

If Chloe Bourgeois should ever admit to a greatest fear, it’s the moment when one hand is on the door, one foot over the threshold, and not a single glance back as they walk away. It’s the dread that bubbles in the pit of her stomach when she finally finds someone she wants to keep and now must sit through it all and wait as they approach the fork in the road: go left into her arms or turn right into someone else’s. It’s the fear that haunts her every waking moment, a living nightmare she can’t escape, lingering to her cob-webbed thoughts like smoke to a fire.

She pulls Marinette closer to her chest, sweat-tangled curls strewn out across their shared pillow, and hopes. The other girl stirs in her sleep and murmurs nothings under her breath, and Chloe can only hold her own. It’s the hour when the chill in the air is more of a kiss than a bite, goose-pimpled skin burning hot against her touch as Chloe strokes her arm with a forefinger and a thumb, like Marinette is the most precious thing in the world to her.

Chloe holds her tight. She holds her breath. She holds onto hope.

People have a tendency to leave her, and she prays that this time, her fear won’t come true, and Marinette will be the one who stays.

[agrestenoir]

There was a whine, and the sound of blankets being moved as a certain someone tried to avoid the morning light.

There was a whine, and the sound of blankets being moved as a certain someone tried to avoid the morning light. A moment later, a blonde head popped up beside him, sweat-tangled hair plastered against his forehead, and bleary green eyes blinked up at him through a haze.

“Wha’ time issit?” Adrien’s voice was hoarse, tinged with the sleepiness that hadn’t quite faded, but Nino could have cared less. 

Nino just stared at his boyfriend who tried to curl up beneath the sheets once more like a newborn kitten, and a smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “Still early,” he reassured him. “Go back to sleep, babe.”

Adrien mumbled incoherently under his breath, already dozing once more, and Nino could thank the stars for how lucky he was.

This was harder than I thought. I wanted to write more. Here’s my contribution to mlm March with some Adrinino drabbles because there can never be enough.

send me one sentence and i’ll finish with five more 

[agrestenoir]

"There stopped being an 'us' when you decided that one person's life was worth more than all of Paris' citizens," Chat Noir shouted.

"There stopped being an 'us' when you decided that one person's life was worth more than all of Paris' citizens," Chat Noir shouted.

Ladybug’s eyes hardened in response, lips pursed in a thin line as she clutched her yo-yo tightly between her fingers. “We still beat the akuma, so I don’t know why you’re so upset.”

He rushed towards her, grabbing her arm before she had time to react, claws digging into her skin as he hissed through gritted teeth, “We almost didn’t because of you.”

“If you don’t like it,” she snapped, “Then maybe we shouldn’t work together anymore.”

Chat Noir made a move to respond but it was too late as Ladybug had already turned on her heel, walking away from Paris, the akuma, and her partner.

send me one sentence and i’ll finish with five more

Have some angsty Ladynoir because life works that way, and I’m horrible.

[ao3feed-ineffablehusbandz]

Matched Set

by IsleofSolitude

Even though he hides it away, Aziraphale can still feel the red fabric around his ring finger.

Words: 1301, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Good Omens (TV)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley (Good Omens)

Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)

Additional Tags: Soulmates, Red String of Fate, 2020 promptposal, Gift Fic

source https://archiveofourown.org/works/24473857

[ao3feed-goodomens]

Matched Set

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2XLRKHR

by IsleofSolitude

Even though he hides it away, Aziraphale can still feel the red fabric around his ring finger.

Words: 1301, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Good Omens (TV)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley (Good Omens)

Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)

Additional Tags: Soulmates, Red String of Fate, 2020 promptposal, Gift Fic

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2XLRKHR

[ao3feed-crowley]

Matched Set

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2XLRKHR

by IsleofSolitude

Even though he hides it away, Aziraphale can still feel the red fabric around his ring finger.

Words: 1301, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Good Omens (TV)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley (Good Omens)

Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)

Additional Tags: Soulmates, Red String of Fate, 2020 promptposal, Gift Fic

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2XLRKHR