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  1. Public Bookmark 77

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    “You couldn’t waste a miracle getting folks in ‘ere. You’re on probation, or summin. France. Frivolous.” Crowley gestured vaguely with the fingers pinned under his chin, hoping some select keywords would warble through the air and somehow land as a fully fledged thought in Aziraphale’s ears. “So how the hell did you do it?”

    The angel laughed, a joyful hymn filling the empty halls and high ceilings. He pointed a smile at Crowley. Crowley pointed his frown right back at him.

    “My dear boy,” Aziraphale laughed again, softer and riddled with disbelief as he pried the scotch out of Crowley's grip. “I talked to them.”

    ------

    Crowley works the bar at a discreet gentleman's club on the brink of closing. Aziraphale appears out of nowhere to get the club back on its feet, and Crowley can only admire his angel at work.
    A fun, mostly gen, but very affectionate Arrangement fic. Inspired/prompted by the One Hundred Guineas club and Jeeves & Wooster era shenanigans!

    Language:
    English
    Words:
    5,200
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    19 May 2026

  2. Public Bookmark *

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    After a drunken handfasting ceremony goes awry, Crowley and Aziraphale find themselves magically bound to be touching at all times. In order to set the situation to rights, they must embark on a multi-day journey to seek help from the last true witch in England.

    Language:
    English
    Words:
    56,496
    Chapters:
    8/8
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    3
    Comments:
    893
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    19 May 2026

  3. Public Bookmark 96

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    ‘You can’t get kidnapped by the forces of Hell looking like that!’ insists Crowley. ‘I have certain standards to maintain!’

    Letting someone else drive your body is weird enough without them accidentally ruining your look. Luckily Crowley's around to fix things.

    Language:
    English
    Words:
    2,124
    Chapters:
    1/1
    Comments:
    68
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    834
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    96
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    19 May 2026

  4. Public Bookmark *

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    ‘This is- put me down,’ Crowley demands, more forcefully this time. He attempts to roll out of Aziraphale’s arms, and the grip on him only tightens. Aziraphale is like iron, except with an extremely cuddly outer layer that smells like a sea breeze and expensive cologne. One of his arms is under Crowley’s leg and gripping his thigh. The other is around Crowley’s back, holding him close enough to- well. Close.

    The phrase “bridal style” flutters through Crowley’s mind and he attempts to clamp down on it furiously.

     

    After the Apocalypse, Crowley senses Demons coming, and manages to hide himself and Aziraphale inside a nearby church for safety. He probably should have thought this through.

    Language:
    English
    Words:
    4,807
    Chapters:
    1/1
    Comments:
    253
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    19 May 2026

  5. Public Bookmark 38

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    Aziraphale stepped behind his work desk and from amongst the morass of mess pulled out a large jar. Inside of it was a beige… goop. Crowley skirted the table with extreme caution, trying to avoid getting flour, jam, or other mess on his person. He stood beside Aziraphale and looked down at the beige goop in the jar.

    ‘Is that… meant to be… bread?’ he asked doubtfully.

     

    Shortly after Crowley starts his lockdown nap, Aziraphale asks for some emergency assistance.

    Language:
    English
    Words:
    3,239
    Chapters:
    1/1
    Comments:
    53
    Kudos:
    340
    Bookmarks:
    38
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    1,444

    19 May 2026