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#good omens fanfiction
pinemartinies · 2 days
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Hi! So this is my contribution to cover art contest for brilliant How Do we turn on the light? fic by @moonyinpisces! I highly recommend this one, it's still WIP but it's so well written (i'm not english and i have to check dictionary almost every three sentences 😭) and complex ❤
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suzypfonne · 19 hours
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This is beautiful @skyclearblue
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Why? Love.
-Neil Gaiman
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mimisempai · 1 day
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In full light
Summary
Even though they've been together for some time now, Aziraphale still has his breath taken away when he realized he can look at and touch his demon in full light.
Notes
50 Types of Kisses - Writing Prompts
Kiss #44: Tentative kisses given in the dark.
On Ao3
Rating G -  668 words
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"No bread for the ducks, you fools! No bread!"
Crowley's voice roused Aziraphale from his sleep, and he turned to face the demon, amused to find that he'd just been talking in his sleep.
The room was just lit by a ray of moonlight streaming through the shutters, and the angel could just make out the silhouette of his lover against the light.
But even without seeing much, he couldn't help but admire the demon once again.
Crowley lay on his stomach, his head resting on his arms. Aziraphale's eyes slid from his neck down the curve of his back, bare to the waist, the sheet having slipped away in the demon's restless sleep.
He'd spent so many years secretly admiring him, hiding his feelings, casting quick glances for fear of being caught. Admiration had turned to infatuation, then to that deep love that had become harder and harder to hide.
And now he was there.
Right in front of him.
He knew he could just reach out and touch him, caress him, kiss him.
He could look at him to his heart's content without hiding his feelings, even if the room suddenly had to light up.
He could look at him in full light.
He could touch him in full light.
He could love him in full light.
They might have acted on their feelings some time ago, but this realization still took the angel's breath away.
"I can't see your face, Angel, but I can feel you're thinking about something."
His gaze slid to Crowley's face, now turned to him, and the demon continued, "What are you thinking about?"
Aziraphale moved closer, resting his head on the pillow beside him, and replied softly, "You, of course. As always, I am thinking of you."
The demon wrapped his arms around Aziraphale's waist to pull him closer, and their faces were now so close that the angel could feel Crowley's breath on his face.
The demon insisted, "And what were you thinking, about me, Angel?"
Aziraphale fearlessly replied, "That I wanted to touch you, to kiss you, and that I could do it freely."
The demon chuckled softly and replied, "Don't hold back on my account, darling."
Aziraphale responded with a chuckle, then wrapped his arms around the demon's neck, fumbling a bit, then pressed his lips to the demon's. It was a little tentative because of the darkness, but it didn't take long for their lips to connect perfectly and begin their now-familiar dance. 
Then there was no more tentativeness, even though the moonlight was obscured by a passing cloud, plunging the room into total night.
A little later, as they caught their breath, Aziraphale was nestled against Crowley, his fingertips drawing random curves across his lover's bare chest.
Suddenly, he raised his hand and said softly, "Let there be light."
Immediately, the room was illuminated by the soft glow of the bedside lamp, and Aziraphale looked up at Crowley's puzzled expression before gently adding, "I want to see you."
He turned completely onto his side, and with his head resting on his hand, he raised his other hand and began to stroke the demon's face as he continued, "I want to see you when I do this..." 
He brushed his fingertips against the demon's chin, then followed the curve of his neck under his ear before resting his hand on his shoulder.
The angel added with a tight throat and a trembling voice, "I want to see you in the light, touch you in the light, because it makes everything so much more real." 
The demon nodded without answering and Aziraphale saw in his eyes that he was completely understood. The angel knew that he wasn't the only one who had spent all these years holding himself back, preventing himself from acting on his feelings.
But today that was over.
So he leaned forward and brought his face close to the demon's, then captured Crowley's lips to give him an amazingly soft kiss.
In full light.
_________
Still not beta'd
Still not my native language
Still hoping you'll enjoy this story  🥰
Still thanking you for bearing with me 😝
Ineffable kisses series : here
Ineffable Husbands masterlist : here
Ineffable Growing Love - Series post S2
Part 1 Story 1-99
Part 2 Story 100-?
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onceuponapuffin · 2 days
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Part 3!!
Okay, this thing needs a name. Please suggest ideas in the comments :) I know this part is tedious, but the thing with self-insert is you have Establishing to do before any Real Action happens. We'll get there, just hang on.
Beginning || Previous || Next
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The shaking must have been more visible than you thought, because Muriel is at your side before you can speak. They touch your shoulder gently.
“Um, excuse me,” they say, “Sorry, but you’re shaking an awful lot. Maybe you should sit down.” You nod, and it takes concentration, but with Muriel’s help you make it to the sofa. Apparently caffeine and adrenaline aren’t the best mix. Your breathing speeds up, despite your best efforts, and the rest of the room feels fuzzy. Shit, you do not need this right now. There’s talking and movement, but listening to the words feels too sharp, and the best you can do to convey that you are not okay is to shake your head over and over and over. You reach out a hand next to you, and are surprised to find the sleeve of Aziraphale’s shirt. It’s not ideal, but it’s something, and he doesn’t pull away. You focus on the feel of the cotton, the button on the cuff, the pattern of the stitching in the seams. Slowly, you’re able to tune back in. You focus on your breathing, you look around and count five things that start with B – button, books, brown, bow tie, black. Crowley hands you a mug of cocoa, and you accept it, running your thumb along the porcelain wings and letting your hands feel the heat of the drink. You take a sip and take stock.
Multiverse travel (?), mouthing off to the literal Voice of God (lol), brush with death (or...eternal saltiness?), confronting your very limited mortality (at least it’s 5 lives and not 3), panic attack. WELP. This is going well so far. Just peachy. You take another sip, and notice that everyone’s waiting. Oh, right. You clear your throat.
“Thanks,” You say, “Sorry about that. Um...I’m gonna guess that you all have some questions.”
“That would be accurate, yes,” Aziraphale says next to you. Now that you are better, he stands, straightens his waistcoat, and moves to stand nearer the chair (and Crowley), and watches you with his hands folded in front of him. “The first of which is, who exactly are you?”
“Buckle in, folks,” You say to them, “You’re in for a ride.”
And so you begin your info dump. You notice Muriel taking dedicated notes. Good, they’ll probably need those later. You tell them that you’re not sure exactly where you’re from, but it’s not here. You explain the tv show, the radio show, you even mention the musical, and of course, when you get to the book, you ask Crowley to find it on the shelf behind him. It’s right where you remember Jim leaving it. Crowley opens it, and you begin on instinct:
“’It was a nice day. All the days had been nice. There had been rather seven of them thus far, and rain hadn’t been invented yet.’ Now skip a couple lines Crowley. ‘I said that one went down like a lead balloon.’ Sound familiar? There’s more.” You stop quoting there, because Crowley has started flipping through the pages quicker. Aziraphale holds out his hand, and after a while, Crowley hands it to him, then goes to a corner where you notice him taking a few deep breaths. You lean to the side to see that he’s not smoking, exactly, but definitely smoldering. You look at Aziraphale next, and see him turn white as a sheet, before handing the book to Muriel’s eager hands. The scrivener is the only one who looks delighted as they flip through. Aziraphale cleares this throat and composes himself.
“Uhm...now I believe you told Metatron that...The Almighty sent you here. Is...is that actually the case?”
“Honestly,” You say, “I have no idea. I just needed to get him out of your shop and away from you.”
“Away from...me?”
“Yeah...um...” You notice that Crowley has come back to the conversation now, although his sunglasses are slightly askew. You glance at Muriel, who has noticed the shift in your tone, has closed the book, and is now watching you. They put the novel on the nearest surface and reach for their notebook again.
And so, you explain the most solid fan theories that you know. That their joint miracle from the other day made them a threat for Apocalypse 2.0, and that Metatron was here to separate them, by offering Aziraphale the job of Supreme Archangel. This news is met with...surprise.
“Well that’s just stupid,” Crowley says, “He says no, in your tv show, clearly.”
“Yes, I rather can’t imagine I’d be so keen to return to Heaven after everything.”
“Weeeeelllll…...”
The room goes silent, except for Muriel’s writing. They stop after a moment, unaware of the silence.
“So then, you were trying to keep them from being separated because the power of an angel and a demon is most powerful together.”
“Yeah, or the power of love maybe. I’m not sure. Neil’s been kind of vague on that point.” You intentionally keep your gaze on Muriel once you realize what you implied. You will get there. Making those two talk about their feelings is on your list. Patience, patience.
“Oh, the author – Neil Gaiman?” Muriel points at the book with their pencil.
“Yeah, him. He answers questions sometimes.”
Muriel makes a note. You realize something.
“Wait a minute, Muriel,” You say, “Are you...on board with this?”
Muriel stops writing and considers your question for a minute.
“Well, see, the thing is,” They begin, “I’ve seen an awful lot that I never thought I would see? Just in the last week. Like a demon being nice –“
“HEY! Not nice!”
“And the Archangel Gabriel being in love with a demon and running away with them. And then you fell out of nowhere, and honestly what you said to the Metatron may have been a lie, and therefore, you know, bad, but it makes sense. If God didn’t want you here, you wouldn’t be here. So if I help you, I’m helping the Will of God, right?”
Crowley is the one to break the silence that follows.
“Honestly I would have thought it’d take longer for you to take after me. I have to say, I am impressed.”
“Take what after you?”
“Nevermind.”
“Well,” says Aziraphale, “Is there anything else that we need to know about?”
You think about the kiss. You think about everything that came after. You think about ‘and I would like to spend -’ But no, none of that is relevant now. Why do you feel like you’re forgetting something?
The bell at the door rings. You turn around to see Maggie and Nina. UGH. Right.
“I’ve got it, ladies, no worries! Come back later!” You call, desperately.
“Excuse me! No, we need to speak to these two now if you don’t mind!” Maggie says. Clearly she doesn’t care who you are or what you’re doing here.
You roll your eyes. Honestly, you don’t have beef with Maggie and Nina. You agree with them telling off Crowley and Aziraphale, it’s just that you can’t help but feel that the clock is ticking. But, well, there’s no helping it is there? With a sigh, you stand.
“Come on, Muriel,” You say, “Let’s go to the kitchen and get some more cocoa while these four talk.”
Muriel follows you into the kitchen. You don’t listen, you don’t need to. All you need to do is refill your drink while Maggie and Nina tell them off. While you’re at it, you try to convince Muriel to have one. Despite your best effort, you’re unsuccessful. Oh well, all in good time. When you hear the bell chime again, you go back into the shop to find Aziraphale and Crowley looking very pink in the cheeks. You can’t help but smirk.
“All right, chaps?” You say in your best-terrible-British-accent. Aziraphale nods. Well good. Because you all have work to do.
❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ 🖤
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e-rated-beardo · 2 days
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So there's this bit in the last chapter of my post-S2 series, Nice And Ominous, where for Reasons™️, Crowley cannot be on the ground. So this ^ happens, and Aziraphale is Just Enough of A Bastard for a second.
And... look... this is a Big, Important Chapter, there's a judgement day and everything, and there are several Very Important Scenes that I'd decided earlier on I'd have a go at making cover art from. But
Grumpy Piggyback Demon
just spoke to me. It is TOO TEMPTING and so here I am after many, many hours, about sixteen false starts on the angel's blessed face, and having made a frightful mess of colouring/shading with physical pens (thank Someone I'd snapped the line art before I screwed it up) - having finished my first ink drawing in years. And it isn't bad.
The full series is at https://archiveofourown.org/series/3929932
(Az's little smirk heavily inspired by this drawing by @muffinpines because I love his Fond But Bastard expression in that picture)
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dismaldonut · 2 days
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Aziraphale and Crowley... But with Snapchat Filters.
I couldn't resist. It had to be done. Fitting as I'm a little drunk doing all of this. For the dolphins!!!!
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feiandart · 19 hours
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"Crowley?" "Hmm?" "How long do you think it will continue to be this hot?" "According to the weather, at least until Sunday. Then the temperature should drop a bit," he peeks at him out of the corner of his eye, "why?" "When did you say you were going to town with Anathema?" "Probably Friday late morning. I'll be back before dinner, though." "Good," Aziraphale nods, lowering his gaze to the book and starting again to massaging Anthony's right buttock with strong fingers, but almost distracted gestures. "I advise against buying clothes that are too covering." The artist's eyes barely shine. "Did you have an idea for Saturday?" "Perhaps," whispers the Lord, unable to hold back a small smile. "And do you want it to be a surprise, or are you going to give me an idea of the scene you're thinking of?" "We can say," Aziraphale replies distractedly, trying to hide the amused air in his gaze, "that in heat like this it might be a good idea to have some ice on hand, don't you think, Anthony dear?" "Fuck yes!" Exclaims the artist, eyes wide and breath ragged. Aziraphale gives him a sly glance, not sparing himself a playful slap exactly where he was groping him before. "Language!" He scolds him. Anthony bursts out laughing, but anticipation bubbles up in his stomach.
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gaiaseyes451 · 2 days
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A Little Life - Chapter 7 - Clarity
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Rated: E, Words ~49k/~71k. 7/12 Chapters. Read the tags!
Chapter Excerpt (Read on AO3):
A chime rang to signal the lift’s arrival on the third story of the physician’s offices in the medical complex. Ezra laced their fingers together as they stepped out into the bright white hallway. They had always hated hospitals. The gleaming white floors were harsh and sterile rather than bright and buoying. Mass-produced paintings and photographs were deliberately spaced, displaying soulless images carefully selected to be neutral and calming, celebratory or conciliatory depending on the emotions of the viewer. Anthony wondered if hospitals and hotels purchased their artwork from the same supplier.
Even the floor-to-ceiling windows, intended to make the space feel more uplifting, managed somehow to filter out all of the warmth and comfort from the sunlight through their thick, industrial-strength, practical glass. Plastic and pleather chairs in too-dull-to-be-teal-but-too-bright-to-be-gray and mauve squeaked no matter how still he sat, no matter how carefully he shifted. He always worried he’d disturb someone’s grief if he perked up with joy, or mar someone’s joy as he sank into grief.
He wondered which way it would go for him and Ezra today.
*~*~*
Summary:
When Professor of Botany Anthony Crowley met bookshop owner Ezra Fell one November afternoon both knew their lives had irrevocably changed. From that moment forward, Anthony and Ezra’s existence was intertwined. Their story was written in the moments and memories they created as they moved through life’s chapters of coming together, building a family and facing the challenges of being human. This is a story of unconditional love and the joy and humour, obstacles and grief that inevitably come with choosing the same person, day after day, over and over and over again.
*~*~*
A huge thanks to @goodomensafterdark for the writers community. And an extra special thanks to @hakunahistata and @the-literal-kj for beta'ing this story. Finally, a huge thanks to @fuzzygoblin for the song prompt that inspired this work.
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paperclipninja · 9 hours
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Still We Know Each Other So Well - Chapter 2
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Rating: Explicit (though not for a few more chapters)
A few months ago, there was a comment on Tumblr that there are ponderings about what would happen if Aziraphale or Crowley's memory was wiped, but what if both their memories were wiped?
This is a story of that what if.
Chapter Summary: A little over a week had passed, yet barely an hour went by when Aziraphale wasn’t thinking of Crowley. AKA: let's start to warm up that pining tag.
Excerpt:
A little over a week had passed, yet barely an hour went by when Aziraphale wasn’t thinking of Crowley.  Every time he stepped out of his building, he searched the street for a flash of red or a distinctive swagger. He found a reason to stop by the small supermarket each afternoon in the hope it might be part of Crowley’s regular route, but there was no sign of the man. 
It was pathetic really, Aziraphale thought to himself. Behaving like a teenager with a crush and going out of his way to try and run into this virtual stranger— to what? Catch one more glimpse? Have a polite exchange before going their separate ways, the whole pitiful cycle starting again? He knew it was a sad and futile game but the truth was, Aziraphale was often lonely and something about this felt… different.  
Lying in bed each night—somewhere between exhaling into the comfort of crisp sheets and plush pillows and the muting of his surrounds just before dreams began—Aziraphale found himself filled with a yearning so great that he was certain it might crush every breath of air right out of him. It gripped his heart and made it ache for a man he had spent less than an hour with and knew nothing about.
Continue reading
Never-ending thanks to my glorious beta @harlotofupdog and the lovely, supportive @goodomensafterdark goblins
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crowleysgirl56 · 2 days
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So my Facebook memories today reminded me that on this day 8 years ago I posted a link to a Guardian article about the confirmation of Neil Gaiman adapting Good Omens for the screen. My original post had the comment “OMG! HEART ATTACK! HEART ATTACK!” attached to it.
Oh you sweet summer child! If only you knew how 8 years later you would become SO OBSESSED that you’ve consumed about five times more Fanfiction than actual canon content, been opened to the world of erotic smut through said Fanfiction and fan art, and can think of nothing else BUT Good Omens on a daily basis.
Here’s to three more years of waiting for the next season.
Also here’s the original article too!
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bigfuns-stuff · 9 hours
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So you know how Neil can’t read or look at fanfics/fan-art cuz of legal reasons? I propose, when GO 3 is fully written with NO chance of rewrites. We bring Neil, on a silver platter, all the best fanfics and art we have that he unfortunately has not seen!!! (Maybe some explicit fics too we’ll see) 
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darkfiguresstuff · 14 hours
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Batter go to the bar and meet Freddie!!!
href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/55
Art by: @getwood-duck
Summary:
“It's no good drinking alone, where's the fun? Well, tell me why are you sad?” With these words, Freddie moved to the chair next to Crowley.
“I quarreled with an angel, now he won’t want to see me for the next hundred years.” the demon hummed, not even trying to hide the facts.
Mercury laughed, considering it a joke.
“I don't think you have that much time.”
“You can't even imagine.” Crowley said.
“So what happened, darling?”
“Do you call everyone that?”…
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juneofbonesao3 · 12 hours
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Aziraphale smokes hella weed and here’s a fic about it
http://archiveofourown.org/works/55300018
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Time for another Terminus update! Astronaut Aziraphale and mission controller Crowley are working together to get Guardian One back to Earth safely.
I spent AWHILE trying to come up with a summary for chapter 11, but anything I might have said about it felt like a massive spoiler. So... here's a silly gif of David in fancy dress instead.
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onceuponapuffin · 1 day
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Fanatic Intervention Part 4!!
Someone mentioned a play on Divine Intervention, and I thought that would make for a short, sweet, tag-able title. So here it is - Fanatic Intervention!
This poll came really close. Gosh. Please share this around. I want anyone who would like a chance to play to have the chance to play. This isn't about followers or activity, this is about letting people know they are welcome and invited :)
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The Metatron walked calmly through the halls of Heaven. Anyone who didn’t know any better would use a word more like “stalked” or “stomped.” Of course, no one in Heaven would ever use these words to describe the Metatron, even if his eyes were angry and his feet fell firmer than usual. No, the Metatron was the Voice of God – he merely walked with purpose, grace even.
At the end of a corridor that did not exist, he approached a door that opened at his touch and his touch alone, into a room that took up no space. It is in here that he stopped, the door closing behind him as it was right to do, and brought his hands together in Prayer.
“I beseech you,” he began, “Mother and Father both of All Creation, Commander of mine tongue, and through whose Grace I carry out Thine Will.” He paused, unsure exactly how to proceed with asking if someone new was supposed to be there. “In my best efforts to bring about the long-foretold Second Coming, I have come upon some trouble. A human was dropped into the path of my efforts* and has suggested that they are here at Your Will. If this is so, please instruct me so that I may step aside or aid them as appropriate. I wish only to serve You, Your Will, and Your Designs.” With this, the Metatron paused and waited. He waited for what felt like eternity, even though he kew all too well it wasn't. He was met with nothing but silence. With a sigh, he spoke now to himself (and if anyone had been around to hear, they might have – mistakenly, mind you – inferred his tone to be sad).
“I suppose I should have expected nothing less.”
He straightened himself. Well, clearly The Almighty trusted him to sort this trouble out for himself. Oh, how he adored the trust and love the Almighty had for him. Alright, so, given that he was sort out this trouble himself, he deigned to use all the knowledge and intelligence that the Almighty had granted him. He had other resources that he could consult.
Exiting the room, he walked once more (with purpose and trust in God – not with pride), to the Room of Records which held The Book of Life. If anyone saw him, they said nothing and let him pass. If he saw anyone, he paid them no mind. The Metatron approached The Book.
The Book of Life holds all the world’s stories, whether they are true or not. Every. Single. One.
He turned the pages to the one where he had seen the passage regarding The Second Coming, and the events leading up to it. His eyes widened in surprise (he was far too important to gawk). The lines that had carefully discussed Aziraphale returning to Heaven, and the Second Coming of Jesus, had all been painted over with what appeared to be a thin white tape. And overtop of this tape, new words were appearing, detailing the arrival of the strange human and their interference. The Metatron glared (not snarled) at the way in which their interaction was being recorded. After a moment, he experimentally scratched at the tape. Much to his relief, the white tape gave way, revealing the original words still lay underneath. Well now, that was good news. The original plan, writing, story, was still there – hidden just beneath the surface. No doubt, if he took the human out of the equation, so to speak, the Plan would continue as is had been written so many thousands of years ago. He smiled, closing his eyes, and thanking God for this insight. Now, all he had to do was find a way to get rid of that human.
Suddenly, the lights in Heaven started flashing red, and a siren began blaring. The Metatron rolled his eyes. WHAT, exactly, had happened now? He went to the room that contained the large rotating figure of Earth, and noticed a large red plume of smoke trailing from it. While all of the lesser angels were fussing with it, Metatron stayed near the door that didn’t exist. He had no need to inspect it closer. He knew precisely what it was.
*(not that kind)
It didn’t take you long to tell them about the Second Coming, and convince Aziraphale and Crowley to ward the bookshop. Well, there was some slight resistance, but you pointed out that if they did a Big Joint Miracle On Purpose, then there wasn’t likely to be anything that anyone could do about it, even when they did notice. And thus, it had gone without a hitch.
Now, Aziraphale was collecting stacks of Bibles that he felt would be helpful for research, Muriel was taking notes, and Crowley had gone to get some wine (something about needing a drink to deal with all this). You look to your phone, pointedly ignore the Lives Counter, and start toward Google to help with research.
BUT
Does your Good Omens playlist still work? You can’t help but wonder, and your curiosity has you distracted and opening the app. Oh, well, there it is. Honestly it’s impressive. But then again, you suppose, Good Omens exists in this world, and the songs in your playlist exist here too, it’s just the show (specifically the Final Fifteen) that doesn’t exist here. Not anymore anyway. Any songs related to the show are gone, but otherwise your playlist is still very much intact. You smirk, crank the volume up on your phone, and start blasting Mother Mother’s Problems.
Now, dear Reader, I will take you aside to reassure you that Hozier is on the list of music they must and will hear. I have merely chosen this one because I don’t know your playlists, but I know mine, and this song fits the mood I expect you must be feeling. You are on the other side of panic, having explained everything, and secured the bookshop, you are now feeling the glee of being in Aziraphale’s bookshop with your favourite characters. You need something upbeat to dance to, wouldn’t you say? And Take Me To Church, being the most upbeat Hozier song that I know of, doesn’t quite cut it.
Crowley enters the room with a bottle of wine and two glasses (only two? How dare he. Doesn’t he know you’re...well...not going to deny a demon the temptation of a glass of red?). Aziraphale sighs the word “Bebop,” and you begin an elaborate sort of bouncing while singing the lyrics and pointing at them in turn.
“So,” Crowley says quietly to Aziraphale, “Any idea what’s actually happening here?”
You, dear Reader, are lost in your dancing. You are having the time of your life making up dance moves and trying to convince Muriel to at least bob in time with the music. You notice none of this.
Aziraphale sighs. “Honestly,” he replies to Crowley, “I can’t say I do. But given what we have to work with, I rather think that trusting them is our best option. Besides,” Aziraphale glances at you, then back to Crowley, “They don’t feel like the bad sort. I may not always be the best judge of character when it comes to angels, but I’m certain that this human is, well, rather the good sort.”
“Mm,” Crowley replies. He pauses, watching for a moment as you try to convince Muriel to stand and take your hands. “And, what about...you know, the thing that Nina and Maggie erm...talked to us about?” He notices Aziraphale’s cheeks turn pink.
“I think that we had best leave that for when the world is safe,” but the angel sounds resigned when he says it. Crowley suspects that “the world,” is actually meant to mean “we and the humans.” He doesn’t mention this, he only nods. The demon pauses.
“Wait a minute, wait, is this song about…”
You had finally convinced Muriel to walk in a twirl under your arm when Crowley finally notices that you had been trying to make it clear as bloody daylight that the song’s lyrics fit them to a T. Now that you have their attention, your smirk grows into a full mischievous smile.
“If you think this is impressive, just wait,” You say. And NOW you turn on Hozier.
❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ 🖤
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fellandcrow · 2 days
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Human!AU, Tattoos!AU, Fandom!AU, Social Media, Friends to Lovers, Mutual pining
Summary: Aziraphale, as far as he can remember, has always loved tattoos, even if he swore to himself from early on that he would never get any of his own. But, one day, he stumbles upon Crowley's Instagram account and his whole world is turned upside down. Two and a half months, that's all it took for Crowley to carve himself a place in Aziraphale's existence and become an important fixture in his life. Two and a half months, and they haven't even met yet.
Chapter summary: "Surely “walking” wasn’t the most appropriate term to describe what Crowley was doing right now, but Aziraphale’s rich vocabulary was failing him in this instant.
“Hey angel, sorry for the delay. You didn’t have to wait too long, did you?” Crowley asked him as soon as he was standing in front of him, looking perfectly relaxed and composed, mouth stretched into a lazy smile, hands nonchalantly slipped in his very tight trousers pockets.
Crowley was taller than him, Aziraphale noted through the fog that had invaded his mind as soon as he laid eyes on him. He didn’t know how he felt about that just yet."
Read it on AO3.
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