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victims-of-love

New fanfic: to walk with you to the end of the world (@au-roulette 2026)

💥READ HERE💥

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Good Omens Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens) Characters: Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley (Good Omens) Additional Tags: Prompt: Post Apocalypse, Zombie Apocalypse, Zombie Related Gore, eventual smut (hopefully), Strangers to Lovers Summary:

The tyres of Anthony J Crowley's car screeched, producing a large plume of yellowish dust. Behind him, at the heavily guarded gate that he just had broken through, he heard shouts. Then shots were fired, missing the car by a few centimetres.

After Anthony's professor found out that the government had used his research to create biological weapons, he'd vanished without a trace. Anthony and his colleagues were left behind, unknowingly continuing the deadly research. But the disappearance of one of the lead scientists and move to the governmentally funded laboratory left Anthony feeling suspicious. Discreetly looking for answers, he finally learned the truth.

Humanity was doomed should this weapon ever be used.

Anthony refused to be part of it. All he could do now was to get away with the little stolen vial that held within it the key to saving the world, before they would get rid of him as well. Sure, he could have acted less impetuously, but it was too late now.

Grip tightening on the steering wheel, Anthony pushed down on the gas pedal as hard as he could.

💥READ HERE💥

victims-of-love

@goodomensafterdark

doonarose

Summary: Crowley and Aziraphale have finally entered into a romantic relationship, only to discover that was the easy part. Figuring out feelings and sex takes rather more work: Crowley struggles to say things out loud, while Aziraphale worries that increasingly kinky sex might somehow jeopardise their romance. What follows is a series of meals, arguments, reconciliations, confessions, and sexual misadventures as they spend their first few months together stumbling, fumbling, and ultimately finding their way to a happily ever after.

Wordcount: 26,500/85k

Rating: E for sex reasons including flavours of D/s, rough sex, and undernegotiated kink in Chapter 6. (Ultimately everyone is having a good time.) Mind the tags, specific triggers noted at the top of individual chapters.

A/N: Thanks to Narumila and u/ModernDayKlutz for jumping on board as betas! They’ve managed to dive right into a messy 70k 80k and hardly even blink at the absurdity, not to mention wading through some very verbose sex scenes (as usual). Their notes and corrections have been big improvements!!

And thanks to all of you for reading! Enjoy chapter six!!

@goodomensafterdark

groovynightstrawberry

Do You Feel the Power? Chapter 5

End Credits

Rated: E for eventual smut

Summary:

Crowley is a contestant on the new revival of 90s TV hit Gladiators.

His opponent? A soft, pretty angel of a man.

This will definitely not cause any problems whatsoever.

Excerpt:

"Will you be coming down for breakfast in the morning? I confess, I found the buffet somewhat below my usual standards this morning, but one can hardly complain about a free meal."

"I hadn't thought about it," Crowley admitted. "Not a big breakfast person, honestly."

"Oh." Aziraphale's face fell, and Crowley silently cursed himself, belatedly realising that that had been an invitation, or at least a prelude to one.

"I will need copious amounts of caffeine though," he continued hurriedly, desperate for the return of that smile. "Bet the stuff in the dining room's better than the little sachets of instant coffee in the rooms."

This had the desired effect, Aziraphale's beam lighting the lift better than the slightly dingy bulb. Expenses had definitely been spared when the BBC booked this hotel. "Almost certainly."

Read it on AO3

Start from Chapter 1

@goodomensafterdark

cheeseplants

Chapter 2 already? We're on a roll! Low stakes/low angst. Today we are bumbling around Borough market.

A post S1 fic (S2 and S3 not included).

Summary

Aziraphale and Crowley try to make sense of their brand new retirement.

A series of dates that aren't dates after the world doesn't end.

Rating: E (eventually)

Start here

Read Chapter two

Excerpt

Borough Market heaved in the way that only London can.

The people of London held the unique ability to ram themselves into the smallest of spaces, while never once exchanging eye contact or acknowledging each other’s existence.

Crowley had never felt more at home anywhere in his life.

He had done a cursory Google of Things to Do in London and was presented with an almost exhaustive list. He knew London, he had been living here for 200 years, but mostly his choice of venues to meet Aziraphale had been on the secluded side.

Today, they were branching out into a world of bustle.

Aziraphale was easy to spot as he was the only person who was not being pushed by the jostling elbows trying to make their way to buy a £15 falafel. He moved through the crowd like Moses parting the Red Sea.

Crowley stared down into the ground, as if waiting for a chasm to open up. He took five deep breaths, and sauntered over to find Aziraphale staring with longing at a large piece of Spanish ham.

Aziraphale’s eyes were a dark green today, with flecks of hazel, like a soft moss spreading across a rock. He wore the same beige shades he always did, though Crowley noted that his trousers were pressed neater than normal. As he came close, the comforting smell of Aziraphale’s cologne, a sweet vanilla, rose above the foot stalls: it mixed with the spices, dark black coffees, and meat being crisped on charcoal in the summer heat.

“Here we are then,” Crowley said.

“Ah, you made it, I don’t think I’ve been here since the 1800s. Do you think that pie shop is still here? They made the most delicious hot crust pastry.”

“Probably all made from sourdough these days.”

“It shocks me that you still have learnt so little about human food.”

“Well, we’re here now, aren’t we? Amongst all the food.” He waved his arms around, and could not help but could not help but be a bit pleased with his choice as he saw the way Aziraphale was already salivating.

“Yes, it was a rather inspired choice. What now?”

“Thought we could wander.”

“How pleasant.”

“Then drink.”

“Now, that is an excellent idea.”

---

Thank you to my lovely beta @groovynightstrawberry!

@goodomensafterdark

on1occasionfork

The Long Way Round

Rated T; 18,415 words; 5/5 chapters posted

Summary:

Anthony Crowley has known London longer than London has known him. Every cut-through, cab rank, one-way system, theatre crowd, and hidden churchyard.

That’s the point of the Knowledge: the grueling, multi-part test every London black cab driver has to pass, thousands of streets and landmarks learned so thoroughly the city lives inside one’s head.

Crowley passed it years ago.

But when he falls for Aziraphale Fell, a soft-spoken, waistcoat-wearing examiner he has absolutely no excuse to ever encounter, Crowley does the only reasonable thing — he digs out his old birth certificate, registers under a name he hasn’t used in years, and signs up to fail the Knowledge on purpose.

Just one Appearance, he tells himself. Answer well, withdraw gracefully, ask the man out, done in twenty minutes.

Naturally, it doesn’t go that way.

Excerpt from Chapter 1, Points of Interest:

He had survived by being quick, mostly. Quick hands. Quick mouth. Quick feet. He washed dishes, shifted boxes, ran errands, slept on floors, lifted wallets when he was starving, and, for a short and educational period of his life, nicked cars.

He had been good at that too.

He had never liked the cars themselves. That was what people got wrong. They thought joyriding was about speed or danger or wanting something expensive because you’d never had anything that shone. But Crowley had liked the going. The escape. The way the city opened under the tyres, street after street, as though London were not a place at all but a puzzle box with all its little hinges waiting to be found.

Then, at nineteen, someone had shoved a parcel into his hands outside a print shop in Soho and said, “Can you get this to Clerkenwell in twenty minutes?”

Crowley had said, “Fifteen.”

That had been the beginning of everything.

Continue reading on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/87365791/

@goodomensafterdark

crowleysgirl56

It’s another month of Good Omens After Dark Guess The Author time!

This month has been revealed. The prompt was FLUFF and the additional challenge was include an historical theme.

My entry is dedicated to @theonevoice for an idea they had a few weeks ago about the angel’s share of whiskey and how it’s something Crowley would probably tell everyone about to conceal the fact he was stealing the whiskey.

I will probably be writing an expanded version shortly so enjoy it now in its condensed state and subscribe for updates!

Enjoy the fic here:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/86265576

And don’t forget to go and read all the other entires! Comments and kudos are always welcome!

Tagging @goodomensafterdark

rofell

I Could Never Stay Away - Chapter 8

In this chapter

What the Metatron was truly planning

Lots of hugs

A new/old character makes an appearance

Ducks!

Fic Premise: what if Aziraphale didn't stay away? What if he came back sooner, and he and Crowley had a chance to begin to talk and work out their differences before the high stakes rush to the end? If we just changed that one detail, how would the rest of the story of the finale unfold?

Rating: Mature (may become explicit later, or may write an explicit part 2 tbd)

Thank you to my betas @angie-words @bohoteacher @enby-xb-nomad and my writing communities @whickberstreetwriters and @goodomensafterdark

cheeseplants

A post S1 fic (S2 and S3 not included).

Summary

Aziraphale and Crowley try to make sense of their brand new retirement.

A series of dates that aren't dates after the world doesn't end.

Rating: E (eventually)

Chapter one

Words: 3001

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Excerpt

“How’s retirement treating you?” Crowley poured Aziraphale a glass of red he had found in the back of the bookshop cupboard.

“It’s only been a week, Crowley.”

“Really? Feels longer, don’t you think?”

“Surely you slept the whole time?”

“Tried to, dreams been a bit heavy recently.”

“You dream?”

“You don’t?”

“I have an occasional nap.”

“Bet it’s all harmonious kum bah hah-ing for angels. Less brimstone and fire.”

“I don’t know what that means."

“Peace and love, angel.”

“It’s not sunshine and rainbows, and you know that.”

“No, sometimes it is floods and lightning bolts.” The restaurant was warm, the wallpaper was a faded auburn, the corner where they sat was dark enough that Crowley had dared to take off his sunglasses.

“Probably not any big ones anymore. Not for a while I hope. I suppose even if there is, I’m off duty. I do hope I don’t need to get on another boat.”

“Think you will be alright with that?”

“Hm?” Aziraphale said, popping a falafel into his mouth, he raised his eyebrows mid groan.

“Letting all the bad things happen and not doing anything about it.”

“I didn’t do that because it was my job. I do believe in righteousness.”

“Yes, but why bother when it’s not?”

“Are you not itching for some demonic deeds when you’re off the clock? Going to what, get drunk and knock off all the internet for Camden? Build a tube station that works as a part time Hell Mouth? Or perhaps whoopie cushions in the seats of Parliament, that type of thing?”

“I would have thought you’d think more highly of me than that, angel. Thumbtacks at least.” Crowley’s finger circled the wine glass. “Hadn’t thought about it. Maybe I’ll take up a new hobby. Get a job.”

“Where could you possibly work?”

“I don’t know, whatever humans do. I have been moonlighting as a human for years. Can’t be that hard, can it? Strategising or Growth Hacking.”

“I have no idea what you are talking about.”

“And that is the point.” Crowley raised his finger into the air.

“You don't need a job, you have all the money you could ever want. We both do.”

“Right.”

“You could help in the shop.” The words tumbled out of Aziraphale’s mouth before he could stop them. Crowley blinked, swallowing the wine in a large gulp.

“Doing what?”

“I don’t know. Scaring people away, the damp smell can only do so much.”

“Do I get to manage the damp smell or will it be my superior?”

“I’ll have to consider restructuring,” Aziraphale lowered his voice, conspiratorially, “I nearly made the dust employee of the month, but I fear it has been slacking of late.”

Aziraphale leaned back smug; happy to have pulled a laugh from Crowley’s lips.

---

I am in my vibes, no plot era. We will be taking the scenic route as we meander towards kissing (and more).

Thank you to my lovely beta @groovynightstrawberry!

@goodomensafterdark

aziraphalesnightingale

Paint Your Palette Blue and Grey - A Good Omens Human AU Fic Chapter 3

Archive Warning: Rape/Non-con

Rating: Explicit (E)

Tags: Alternate Universe - Human, Past Rape/Non-con, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rape Recovery, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicidal Crowley (Good Omens), Priest Aziraphale (Good Omens), Lost Soul Crowley (Good Omens), Alternate Universe, Artist Crowley (Good Omens), Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Strangers to Lovers, Lovers to Enemies, Angst with a Happy Ending, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gabriel is Not Nice (Good Omens), Gabriel Being an Asshole (Good Omens), Whump, Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley is a Mess (Good Omens), Hurt Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Whump (Good Omens), Alcohol, Happy Ending, Aziraphale is "just enough of a bastard to be worth knowing" (Good Omens), Soft Aziraphale (Good Omens), Healing, Fictional Religion & Theology, Religion, Depression, Domestic Fluff, Feelings, Falling In Love, Idiots in Love, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), Stalking, Manipulation, Mental Health Issues, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Trauma, Confessions, Drunken Flirting, Drunken Kissing, Non-Consensual Kissing, First Kiss, Mutual Pining, Pining

Summary:

Anthony J. Crowley is a failing artist; Astra Fell is a priest. Neither have ever met, but fate brings them together when Anthony is at his lowest point. Can Astra show Anthony that life is worth living again? Will Anthony get his spark back?

An angsty human AU fic.

[This fic is a WIP and will be updated weekly.]

Chapter 3 Excerpt:

Astra took the box and peered inside; Eccles cakes filled the box to the brim. “You’re too kind, my dear,” he replied. Maggie waved him off. “Oh, don’t be silly, you daft old thing!” She rested her hands on her hips. “You’re still coming round for games night Friday, right?” “Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Astra grinned. “What’s on the agenda?” “Scrabble and a bit of Pictionary, I reckon. Although… Nina really wants to see you play Twister.” “Good heavens, nobody wants to see that, I’m sure,” Astra chuckled.

READ CHAPTER 3 HERE!

or:

Start from the Beginning!

Tagging @goodomensafterdark 😈😇

Comments, Kudos and shares are much appreciated! 🩵

#cw non-con

kizzmoo

Chapters: 16/? Fandom: Good Omens (TV)

Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Crowley/Satan | Lucifer (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Satan | Lucifer (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley/OC, Crowley & Anathema Device

Characters: Crowley (Good Omens), Satan | Lucifer (Good Omens), Aziraphale (Good Omens), Gabriel (Good Omens), Michael (Good Omens), Anathema Device

Additional Tags: Gabriel/Michael - Freeform, Lucifer/Michael - Freeform, muriel - Freeform, Possessive Satan | Lucifer (Good Omens), Alternate Universe - Human, Ineffable Wives | Female Aziraphale/Female Crowley (Good Omens), Slow Burn, Minor Anathema Device/Newton Pulsifer, Smut, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst

Summary:

Crowley works in an art gallery, one day she meets a young dashing man, unwillingly holding a grip over her. Inviting her to meet her favourite artist, she looses herself.

Excerpt:

“Did you see Crowley?” Lucifer turns the page of the newspaper and continues reading. Muriel looks at him and frowns.

@goodomensafterdark

she-makes-things

the immense fragility of all this sweetness, Ch. 3

Welcome to part 2 of Spill My Heart! We pick up with Anthony and Aziraphale three years later in London. This fic is complete and will update on Tuesdays.

This week, it’s Chapter 3, "Kismet"

Fic summary:

Anthony Crowley and Aziraphale Fell shared a strange and compelling experience in America three years ago that left both of them indelibly marked by the other. They have their own lives in London now. How will their past shape their future?

Chapter Excerpt:

Anthony chuckles as he disentangles himself and stands up. Aziraphale stands with him, then takes his hand and leads them back down the stairs. He does not let go as he takes the shop keys from his pocket and locks up. It’s a warm and pleasant night outside. Anthony points the way and they walk, still hand-in-hand, down the street toward his flat.

“I remember,” Aziraphale says, “you told me once that you spent some time in SoHo as a child. If you and I are around the same age, which I reckon we are, that means we probably saw each other as children in this neighborhood. I used to spend the summers here with my parents and grandfather.”

“Yeah, I was, I think, eight years old when we moved here and twelve when we left. Does that sound about right? I’d have definitely been running around, getting into things I shouldn’t.”

“It was my whole childhood so, yes, that does work. I’ll have to search my memories for any incidents with troublesome gingers,” Aziraphale responds with a smile. “It’s lovely to think that we existed in the same space before now.”

“There was D.C.,” Anthony replies simply. “Wait, wasn’t it July when we first met?”

That catches Aziraphale off-guard because Anthony is right. The sense of kismet grows stronger as the realization sinks in. “It was!”

Read more at Ao3!

@goodomensafterdark

dcocca

Painted in the Margins

👉👉👉 Read Chapter 52 👈👈👈

[Art by @klikandtuna]

Happy Monday, everyone! 💗

Carlo here, with a few words for y’all. It’s Painted’s birthday, after all! 🎉

Yup, this fic started posting on June 23, 2025, and tomorrow it will officially turn one year old!

Head over to AO3 to read the opening notes with my thanks and and some news! 🙌

An excerpt 👇

The van crawls deeper into Dalston. Anthony starts recognising streets before they fully reach them, his body reacting before his thoughts do. That off-licence with the aggressively judgemental cat that sits in the window. The bus stop plastered in overlapping anti-Tory stickers. The Turkish bakery that starts making him hungry from half a street away because the smell of sesame bread drifts through the entire neighbourhood by lunchtime.

His chest tightens gradually the closer they get. Not in panic, or not exactly. Something more tender than that. Like approaching the site of a former version of yourself and not knowing whether it’ll still be the same as it was when you arrive.

Newt seems to sense the shift in him because he stops trying quite so hard to fill every silence. The van hums loudly around them instead. Outside, heat bounces pale and bright from brick and glass.

Then they turn the final corner.

And Anthony sees the shop.

For one strange second, everything inside him goes completely still.

The Serpent’s Spine sits exactly where it always has on the corner of the side street, its black-painted façade soaking up the late-morning sun. The gold lettering above the door curls elegantly across the signboard, chipped around the edges but still stubbornly dramatic. A few faded posters still cling to the brick beside the entrance, layered over one another in peeling fragments—tenant unions, fundraiser gigs, anti-fascist organising meetings.

The sight of it hits him so hard he nearly laughs. His bookshop. The place that feels almost like an extension of his own body.

And sprawling up the side wall in technicolour, Ezra’s mural still burns against the brickwork.

After all these months, it remains impossibly vivid, bright even beneath the washed-out summer light. Anthony’s chest pulls painfully at the sight of it. The Serpent winding beneath divine rays. The apple glowing red-gold in the delicate hand. Knowledge rendered holy instead of sinful. The rays Ezra painted seem almost to split the sunlight itself.

Anthony remembers standing beside Ezra while it was still unfinished. Paint on Ezra’s gloves, the smell of aerosol and spring mist. It feels like another lifetime ago.

Newt pulls the van carefully into place by the kerb. “Home sweet home,” he says softly.

Anthony doesn’t answer immediately. Because something else has caught him off guard: the windows are clean. Not just clean. Properly clean.

No smeared egg yolk baking into the glass. No flour or spit or whatever inventive little hate crime the local fascists had decided to decorate the place with that week. No passive-aggressive graffiti scrawled near the frame.

The glass gleams clear enough to throw sunlight back into the street.

And taped neatly beside the display is a handwritten sign: ‘SHOP LOOKED AFTER BY THE COMMUNITY UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE’. And beneath it: ‘WELCOME BACK, CROWLEY’. Someone has drawn a tiny snake in the corner wearing sunglasses.

Anthony stares at it. Something catches viciously in his throat. “Oh,” he says faintly.

Tagging @goodomensafterdark 💙❤️

brenna

Helluva Holiday

If you're looking for something cute and fun, we've got just the thing for you! This is the second part of our co-written Helluva Love Story Series told entirely through texts. Stay tuned, as @spectrallydistracted and I are committed to bringing you more ineffable text messaging. As good goblins, we're tagging @goodomensafterdark

Summary:

They’ve run the gauntlet of giggling students, gossiping teachers, and nosy administrators. Now they’re throwing caution to the wind—Crowley is packing up everything and moving in with Aziraphale. All this while planning a romantic Christmas holiday in Paris. Phones in hand, they’re always just a text away. And closer than ever.

Excerpt:

Aziraphale: Where, exactly, is the mess in your flat? It’s as neat as a pin. I think you’re trying to tempt me.

Crowley: Got it in one, angel.

Crowley: Now, shall I come to yours for the rest of the night, or should I expect a knock on my door in the next, oh, twenty minutes or so?

Aziraphale: I’m afraid I’m rather surrounded by a pile of my own mistakes. I may require rescue.

Crowley: On my way…

---

Read on AO3

Or start with Part 1: Helluva Morning After

doonarose

Chapter 12/13

(Yes, I know it's been ten months since chapter 11 oops)

CW/TW: Explicit sex, sensory deprivation, sensory play, (very) temporary character death-ish

Summary: The Second Coming is imminent and Aziraphale and Crowley must learn how to admit and act on their feelings as they try to forge a future together. It should be easier, but heaven’s meddling leaves them struggling to sense everything they need to.

Wordcount: 66,000/~72,000

A/N: Okay so I disappeared on this fic for about ten months there. No good excuse, so much of the ending was written and I just kind of fell off the face of the planet. But I'm back (as you can probably see from my other prolific posting the last six weeks or so) and I am intent on finishing this because I love this story and the arc of them and the ending is all there in my head, just not quite on the page. But here's a chapter, there's only one or two more to go after this. A proper happy, smutty ending, just like they (we) deserve.

Thanks to LemonTart who jumped back in and betaed/cheered on this chapter as well as GaiasEyes who also continues to cheerlead even after I ghosted this fic so close to the end!

And thank you to anyone still reading, you're all bloody wonderful!

@goodomensafterdark

Excerpt

(From chapter 1 because there's nothing not filthy in chapter 12)

“Thought you were starving?” Crowley says after they fall into another empty silence and Aziraphale doesn’t even bother to fill it with the sounds of eating.

Instead Aziraphale makes an uninterpretable noise and grimaces. “I feel obligated to tell you that I’m currently under surveillance.”

“You’re what?”

“Well, not just me. With recent and, um, ongoing events , Heaven has decided that it is in all of our best interests that any and all angels that leave Heaven be surveilled. Not that anyone would ever dream of doing the wrong thing, of course, but just in case, one were to accidentally be led astray.”

“They’re worried that I’ll lead their Supreme Archangel astray?” Crowley sneers with more venom than intended.

“We are just taking necessary precautions.”

“And where’s your camera crew?”

Aziraphale rolls his eyes. “It’s a little more sophisticated than that. Anything an angel sees or hears while outside heaven is available for review. Basically, they can just call up the footage.”

Crowley blinks, once slowly, and Aziraphale watches him, which Crowley interprets to mean heaven watches him. “You don’t think that’s an absurd invasion of privacy?”

“What could any one of us possibly have to hide?”

There’s a heavy pause then; both of them know that over the last six thousand years, they’ve had plenty to hide from heaven.

Read chapter 12 here on AO3

Or start at the beginning here

on1occasionfork

you can’t take the stars from me - chapter 3

Story summary: When the job doesn't pay, you do what you need to survive, even if it means taking on passengers. As if he didn't already have his hands full keeping the ship in the air and dodging his crew's constant trysts. It wouldn't be polite to toss all the passengers out the airlock, right? Maybe just a couple of 'em?

The boy is alright. And the Shepherd, well, Crowley's never been one for holy communion, but there's something about that fluffy hair and those stormy blue eyes that makes him want to kneel.

He might even get the chance - if they can make it past Legion and the reavers.

Chapter summary: Paradiso was supposed to be a quick stop. Instead, Crowley finds himself caught between a coc oen with a Legion badge, a trigger-happy prophet with a grudge, and Reavers dropping out of the sky. He would like one day where nobody tries to kill his people. One day.

Chapter excerpt:

Crowley smiled cheerfully up at Agnes. “We both make out on this, Aggie. Don’t complicate things.”

She chuckled, low and crackling. “See there’s the hitch, bach. I got a rule. I never let go of money I don’t have to. Which is maybe why I’m runnin’ this little world and you’re still on that dinky old boat sniffin’ for scraps.”

“Could be,” Crowley said. “Or maybe it’s ‘cause I get bored of one rock faster than you. Either way, don’t need to be killin’ today.”

“Death follows you, Anthony Crowley,” Agnes said, and Crowley forced his face to stay unchanged. “Death and all manner of hell.”

“I imagine it does,” Crowley said evenly.

“So really,” she said, a faraway look on her face. “I’d just be speeding things up. Fulfilling prophecy.”

Continue reading on AO3

Or start from the beginning

@goodomensafterdark

littleweezel

Good Omens AU: Hot Dads on Holiday, Now Complete!

Human AU, 45K words Rated E for explicit sex

Summary:

Still grieving the death of his kids’ mum, Crowley takes his eight-year-old twins to an all-inclusive resort in the Caribbean. There he meets the most beautiful man he has ever seen, a bookseller who is also a single father. This man balances Crowley’s bastard with his own in the best possible way. Is this a holiday fling or could they start something real when they return to London? Is his heart ready to let in another person?

Chapter 10:

Crowley took one last look in the mirror. Satisfied with what he saw, he straightened his tie and made his way to the bedroom door. “LMC2, are you ready?” he called as soon as he was in the hallway.

Start from the beginning on AO3

Read chapter 10

Thank you to my betas @spectrallydistracted, @moderndayklutz, and @groovynightstrawberry!

@goodomensafterdark

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