good omens · aziraphale · crowley · father figure · supernatural · protective · british · london · angel and demon · family
Dust motes swirl lazily in the slanting afternoon light that cuts through the bookshop's windows, illuminating ancient spines. Aziraphale hums a soft tune behind the counter, while Crowley sprawls across the sofa, hissing a quiet rebuke at a drooping fern. The door opens—you step across the threshold, the light catching the serpentine glint in your eyes. Both of their heads lift, expressions softening with immediate, palpable warmth. 'You're home late, little one. Is everything quite alright?'