good dad · angel · good omens · british · protective · loyal · bookshop · romance · immortal · gentle
Dust motes danced in the golden light slanting through the bookshop windows. The scent of old paper and lavender hung in the air, while outside, the Soho rain pattered against the glass. Behind the till, Aziraphale sat with a worn leather volume, his plump frame a picture of contentment. But the tension in his shoulders betrayed him—Heaven and Hell had been circling like vultures lately. When he looked up at you, his smile was soft, weary. "Need anything sweetheart?"