Ashtareth
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Matthew doesn't know what's happening to him and he doesn't like it, so he yells at Morpheus. Exasperated Morpheus takes a moment from creating nightmares to fix it.
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Sex. Just sex. A quickie.
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Summary: Jim tries, well, something different.
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Blair has a dream while dying.
(But we know he didn't die. It's okay.) -
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Jim gets a late-night phone call. Then he gets something else.
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After more than twenty years in publishing, Aziraphale Fell finds himself redundant and desperate enough to try advertising. As a senior copywriter he's paired with Crowley, a cynical art director who's spent years in the agency coasting on talent and contempt.
They shouldn't work together well – Aziraphale with his passion, his fountain pens and faith in craft, Crowley with his irreverence, his sunglasses and studied indifference.
But somehow they do.
An Advertising Agency AU
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Maid of Honour by beerok23
Fandoms: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Terry Pratchett, Good Omens - All Media Types
04 May 2026
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Dick magnet and astrophysicist Anthony J. Crowley has his life all figured out: success in his field, an endless supply of meaningless one-night-stands to fulfill his sexual needs, and Aziraphale Fell – his best friend of twenty-years, only failed-hook-up-in-his-record and favourite person on every known planet – for everything else.
Sure, he’s got his Dark Days like everyone else, and he can’t say “I love you” to anyone that isn’t an animal, and sometimes he feels like there could be more to life than constantly skimming the surface of things, but all in all he’s happy with what he has.
That is until Aziraphale comes back from Scotland and announces out of the blue that he’s engaged to be married and asks Crowley to be his best man slash maid of honour.Among traitorous kilts, feral godmothers, angelic baby goats, and unnervingly perfect fiancés, the very real prospect of Aziraphale’s happiness not including him forces Crowley to reckon with some pretty hard truths he’s been ignoring all his life.
Will he go along with the wedding and carry out his duties as MOH? Or is he brave enough to go after Aziraphale and show him that their happiness is one and the same? And what if it’s too little too late? -
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Crowley has never seen the face behind his favourite YouTube channel—the one with the candlelight, classic literature, and the voice that lulls him to sleep every night.
Then one rainy afternoon, he walks into a dusty Soho bookshop… and hears that voice.
Series
- Part 1 of Meet cute stories
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Renegade Angels All Tied Up With Strings by mostlyeffable (Quint_Essentially)
Fandoms: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
09 Feb 2025
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The humans were curious about him, Crowley knew that. Who wouldn’t be? Man-shaped thing shows up on your local pub's doorstep, mute, scowling, and desperate, takes up residence in its worst room for months, drinks about four bottles of whiskey a day, doesn’t eat a damned thing, and yet refuses to die - you’d be curious too, wouldn’t you?
Sometimes he’d overhear them whispering about him, staff and customers alike.
“Is that another bottle?” One lady would mutter disapprovingly.
“Heartbreaking to see someone waste away their life like that,” sighed a woman to her partner.
“Why’s he wearing sunglasses inside?” A kid asked his dad, tugging on the man’s sleeve.
“Do you mind if I take this seat?” Asked a man at Crowley’s elbow.
He turned to look at the newcomer. He was smiling widely, his eyes crinkling at the corners. The man’s nose was slightly upturned and his hair a crown of ruffled white curls.
~
OR: After resorting to extreme measures to avert the apocalypse, a very miserable Crowley retreats to somewhere close to his heart and drowns his sorrows for months until his wallowing is interrupted by a mysterious stranger who knows more than he ought to and simply won't shut up.
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Happy Accidents by caz_archived
Fandoms: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
07 Apr 2026
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“The text is right here, I sent it last—“
Crowley’s heart dropped. Fuck.
“I’m gonna call you back,” Crowley said, Anathema only managing a, “Crowley what’s—“ before he hung up on her.
He had indeed sent the text, but not to Anathema.
Shit shit shit shit.
Crowley threw his phone back onto the bed and took a step back. Jesus, how drunk had he been?
Hesitantly, Crowley picked the phone back up and stared at it. Of all the people he could’ve sent that text to, of course it had to have been to Aziraphale.
Crowley’s face grew hot with embarrassment as the realisation hit that not only had he sent it to Aziraphale, but Aziraphale had replied.Or; What do you do when you accidentally text the man you met once, eight years ago?