Woodcut Print Of The Ineffable Husband's Hands During The Dance Scene.

WE ARE HIRING

Are you flexible, sneaky and persistent? We are expanding because of resounding success of THE summer. Our team is looking for another sun stealer. Either morning or evening shift. You will be working together with our dynamic team in an agile environment stealing sun time.

Secondary benefits: extensive health plan (vitamin D), extra holiday days in winter, big bonus if you obtain more sun without the southern hemisphere noticing…

sunsets after 7pm now !!!!!!!!!!! we made it guys !!!!!!!!!!!!

For the beautiful @gleafer. Thank you so much for your work

Again. Crowley and Aziraphale.

Rating: teen and up

Words: 12760 + two fluffy epilogues set in same au

Gabe, where are you? I can't see you and trying to work out this telephone is very confusing. My costume is uncomfortable and, to the frustration of your friend Michael, I have not a clue what I am dressed as.

Which costume?

My costume. Gabriel, where are you?

Remind me what costume you’ve got?

You’re the one who gave it to me. It’s that silly Obey One from that film you like.

Send a pic.

Fine.

[Sent: Picture]

Cute. You’re an angel.

No. It’s the Star Battle film. Gabe, where are you?

Oh, this isn’t Gabe.

What? Who is this? Have you stolen Gabe’s mobile device?

Nah, sorry. You got the wrong number. Love the costume though

Meltdown

“How are you this cheerful?” Aziraphale asked with a groan. He eased his head back and closed his eyes.

Crowley’s voice came from across the room as he poured a refill. “Because I woke up almost two hours ago wanting to punch the sun, and after I realized that I needed water and painkillers and coffee, but you were dead to the world, I had to go downstairs. Got meds and a metric ton of caffeine, struck up a conversation with this really fascinating person called Dragon—”

He put the cup back in Aziraphale’s hand. Aziraphale opened his eyes in time to see Crowley dig into his pockets for something.

“I have meds for you somewhere,” he muttered, pulling his hand free. Bits of paper, a business card, and a string of condoms emerged with his fingers. He flushed and shoved everything back into the pocket, then dug into the one on the other side of his trousers until he found what he was looking for. He held up a sleeve of paracetamol in triumph. “Here they are!”

Aziraphale took the proffered medication and swallowed it down. He wasn’t sure what to think about the condoms. Was this because of last night? Surely, the two of them didn’t need condoms if they decided to have sex. They’d had a conversation about STI testing only two months ago, when Crowley got follow-up tests to make sure nothing had been missed on earlier ones, given the convoluted nature of the Nick situation. Was it a preference thing? Or was Crowley not telling him something? Could it be that after so long without sex, he had physical needs, and with Aziraphale enforcing the no-sex rule, his husband had been forced to seek it elsewhere?

The thought slashed through his chest with a pain that caused him to gasp and cough.

***** Chapter 19 (Meltdown) of Dead Right is now out! It’s the morning after their date, and things go a little sideways. I apologize in advance for the angst. I promise it will be resolved in the next chapter. I know I said this story would be angst-free but these two needed a little friction to keep the story rolling out. It will be okay, though! *ducks from readers*

– Read the chapter out on ao3! – Or start Dead Right from the beginning!

***** Fic notes: Angst-free (usually), complete tooth-rotting fluff, fake marriage, pining-while-married AU, rated E (but all spicy sections will be skippable).

Thank you to my wonderful betas @beerok23 and @unicornbeck, as well as to all you lovely people who give me no end of support! 💕

Stop interpreting my resting * face. It is RESTING, it doesn’t have anything to do with you.

* = whatever

Crowley and Aziraphale in disguise.

happy pride to everyone in the community!! happy pride to those who are out, those who are not, those who aren’t sure of their identity yet, those who don’t use labels, those who don’t feel seen, etc, etc. stay safe and don’t be ashamed to be yourself.

My cartoon for this week’s Guardian Books.

the question of fic comments is very straightforward actually. readers do not owe writers comments. writers do not owe readers fic. there is no bargain, no transaction, no debt.

fic is a gift. comments are a gift. gifts are exchanged between friends, out of love, not out of obligation.

I write for myself. I post it for others, as a gift, because their joy brings me joy. I read for myself. I comment for the author, as a gift, because their joy brings me joy. perhaps we were not friends before, but we are now, however fleetingly, because we have given each other gifts out of love.