so most of the fic I’ve read I read before the show came out so I’m not up to date on what’s been new much since then, but here is a nonexhaustive list of some of the ones I enjoyed, in no particular order:
Stars Above You, by Demmora
“We can run away together,” he’d said, “Alpha Centauri, lots of space up there, no one would even notice us…”
good for the soul, by singingtomysoul
Aziraphale doesn’t feel guilty, for once, but has some things to confess.
Crowley doesn’t think he has guilt, and doesn’t plan to confess anything. On both counts, he’s wrong.
A Sudden Flight of Birds, by the_moonmoth
“You know,” Crowley said conversationally, “abject terror is really quite exhausting.”
Any Other Name, by mostlyanything19
What if Aziraphale’s name was originally “Aziraphael”, in keeping with the conventional spelling and pronunciation of other angel names, but because of its divine nature, Crowley is physically unable to say it out loud.
Morning Has Broken, by DwarvenBeardSpores
The year is 1972 and the last surviving member of Aziraphale’s gentleman’s club has passed away.
Monday, Half Past Four, by TruckThat
Crowley decides that almost any course of action is justified if it manages to distract him from the fact that it’s been nearly two days and so far nothing else is going wrong.
Ars Gratia Artis, by fahye
Colour fades from the world around them, and when Crowley pushes open the door of the bookshop Aziraphale is sitting in front of a fire drawing with black, black ink.
get religion quick (’cause you’re looking divine), by brinnzana
So it was fine. Even if Crowley couldn’t love him, he clearly liked him well enough, and that was almost the same thing.
It no doubt would have continued to be fine, or at least fine-adjacent, were it not for a narrowly averted apocalypse and several bottles of a really quite nice Riesling Aziraphale had found in the back room of his newly restored bookshop.
every angel is terrifying, by punkfaery
“Why does it bother you?” Crowley asked. “Even if you can’t get to them in time to wipe their memories, it’s not like anyone’d believe them. Kid goes running to her mum saying Ooh, I’ve just seen a bloke with three heads and a sixteen-foot wingspan, what do you think’s going to happen? Chances are they’ll just pat her on the shoulder and tell her what a vivid imagination she’s got.”
“That’s not what worries me,” said Aziraphale.
this is the way the world ends, by lvslie
Crowley looked like something one would like to soften with a sponge and possibly ask to calm down: all pointy angles and something in the way of agitation contained in the crooks and sinews. He looked laid-back, but in the sense that he’d been laid on a flaring surface of teething anxiety that prodded him to jump up occasionally. He looked a little bit of perpetually lost, and mildly like someone who would choose to sleep through a century just to shy away from having to continuously exist.
No, Crowley didn’t look like that, especially not at first glance, but that was exactly what Aziraphale could see in him anyway.
it’s the light (it’s the obstacle that casts it), by Handful_of_Silence
The Patron Saint of London’s LGBT Community is real, and he lives in Soho.
and, so on, by PaintedVanilla
“Crowley, what… what do you remember about Heaven?”
Anthophilia, by FortinbrasFTW
Anthony J. Crowley’s life seems like it’s finally falling into place: his floral shop has begun to gain an undercurrent of appreciation in the design elite of London, and he might have even finally found a boyfriend who looks just right lounging on his Tenreiro sofa. Things seem almost perfect, until one day the empty shop across the street is leased to frumpy fellow Oxford alumni, who doesn’t seem to remember Crowley nearly as well as he remembers him, which really shouldn’t bother him as much as it does - it was ten years ago after all, and it wasn’t even that good of a kiss.
and one from yours truly because I’m writing this list and I can:
listen (he’s already told you five times), by darcylindbergh
Not everything Crowley says is said out loud. Aziraphale doesn’t always hear him at first, but he’s learning to stop being surprised.