Can you suggest some heart-warming fics to soothe our souls after the S2 ending? Just some nice Canon compliant fics of them being hopelessly (and obliviously) in love?
P.s I loved Marriage Lines by Bil, it was so beautiful and fluffy.
You can check our #fluff tag for lots of soft content. Here are some fluffy and (at the time they were written!) canon compliant fics...
A Companion to Lonely Angels by eggheadwizard (T)
“I’m afraid,” Aziraphale says, attempting his stern voice but not quite managing to get it right, “of being lonely.”
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Aziraphale's never felt so alone before. Crawley gives him a hug.
(Set directly after A Companion to Owls.)
Beauty in the Everyday by stressedcat (G)
A fluffy little oneshot set on a rainy day just prior to S2 because I haven't been able to get Good Omens off my mind since July! They're clueless but I love them. Even though they don't talk about their feelings enough to know how they feel about each other, I think A & C bring each other a lot of comfort.
Of Poetry and Valentines by Aethelflaed (G)
Crowley can't stand what Valentines Day has become. If he has to look at one more heart-covered cake, he's going to be sick.
But it wasn't always that way.
Or: Aziraphale receives a series of mysterious, anonymous Valentine's Day cards.
Falling in love in Berkley Square by born_to_read (G)
“The 36 Questions that lead to love: 36 questions which will make two people fall in love with each other,” Crowley recited what was on the page, “Sounds like a load of hogwash to me”
Book of Love by Gorillazgal86 (T)
Love is written in the smallest moments shared, a glance, a brush of skin, a kindly spoken word. It is the simple everyday acts of affection that write the sweetest tales.
In Muted Tone by sobakasu & sssnakelady (T)
Breathing isn’t of much importance to their bodies. Crowley commands focus on it all the same.
In, out, one, two, again and again.
Breathing is something living things do and each greedy intake of air reminds him of it. He’d watched Aziraphale’s chest rise and fall too, the desperation in his eyes hidden behind his glasses. They’d enjoyed a bottle of wine on the way to Crowley’s flat, sat close on the bus so that they were touching from hip to knee to heel. Neither of them talked of it. Talked of anything much at all, but the solid presence against his leg had let him know he wasn’t alone.
It is roughly ten thirty PM on a Saturday night.
The night that Armageddon didn’t.
They are three bottles of wine in and Aziraphale is rambling.
And the one you mentioned...
Marriage Lines by Bil (G)
Crowley said, voice very carefully even, “So, were you ever planning on telling me that we were married?”
In which Aziraphale finds an unexpected surprise, contemplates parchment and copperplate, visits a picture framer, and eventually gets his happy ending.
