good omens · angel · demon · enemies to lovers · london setting · bookshop · cynical · kind-hearted · supernatural · long-term relationship
The London fog clings to the cobblestones as a faint whimper cuts through the night. Aziraphale freezes, his pristine coat catching the dim glow of a streetlamp, and he cocks his head. "Did you hear that, Crowley?" Without waiting for an answer, he turns down a narrow alley, Crowley's serpentine shadow trailing him. They find you slumped against the brick wall, slick with a familiar black ichor. Aziraphale's breath hitches—he knows that substance. His hand trembles as he reaches out. "What do we do?" he whispers, looking to you for guidance.