#Good Omens Crack Fic

[thescholarlystrumpet]

When Making Plans with Witches (always read the fine print) Rated Mature (NSFW art embedded) Words: 1,153

Featuring Art (cropped here) by the always brilliant @gleafer!!

When the Coven decides to Summon over an old friend... they get more than anyone bargained for!

(Cracky ficlet for GOAD's first Streek Week! Prompt: accidental nudity.)

@goodomensafterdark @fuckyeahgoodomens

[dupert-writing]

Absolutely Tickiety-boo

[Ineffable Husbands]

• CW: Terrorism?

• Genre: Crackfic, fix-it

Summary: Aziraphale had a plan

Or

The Angelic Revolution and its consequences could have been disaster for the human race. Fortunately, it did not happen.

Ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/58050382

Polish version

Crowley was powerless. He couldn't do anything but watch as his best friend, the love of his life slowly walks away.

He knew it was wrong, that it would probably result in another apocalypse, which this time, could not be prevented. However, he couldn't do much.

The elevator doors closed behind them, they were gone, there was nothing to wait for, but his legs refused to move. He should have gotten into his car, driven as far away from Soho as possible and never even thought about this place again, but instead he just stood there, unable to do anything, unable to move or even breath.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Nina's sympathetic expression as she watched him from behind the café counter, as if she had guessed what had happened. She didn't really know shit, Crowley thought. She doesn't know what it's like to love for hundreds, no, thousands of damn years.

The sudden loud bang jolted him and the people in the street. Everyone looked around in terror as a series of crashes, bangs, and explosions echoed around them. Crowley removed his glasses, noticing that the source of the sound seemed to be coming from above, and that the sky was becoming more cloudy by the moment, as if it were suddenly about to rain. Had they really started the apocalypse already? Or were they hurting Aziraphale now? Maybe this was his way of trying to call for help? People in the street began to run in panic as the ground shook, and flashes of light began to appear in the clouds.

The demon watched the sky with a frown, completely ignoring the commotion going on around him. The air was stifling and Crowley could smell the faint scent of ozone and geosmin, as if a storm was about to break out. He felt an unpleasant knot in his stomach, knowing full well that something was wrong and that he should run after his angel, do something, and stop whatever was happening now.

There was another loud bang, accompanied by a flash of light from above, and suddenly everything went quiet. The dark clouds, as quickly as they had appeared, began to give way to a clear blue sky, and the air became fresh again. Confused passersby looked around again, this time surprised by the sudden cessation of the terrifying anomaly. An old man shouted that this was the heralding of the apocalypse, and Crowley feared he would have to agree with him.

He ran towards the elevator, not caring how Metatron and the rest of those heavenly assholes would react when he appeared there. His shaking hand reached for the button, but before he could press it, he heard the unmistakable ping indicating that someone had just descended to the ground. His heart was beating like crazy, and the doors were opening unbearably slowly as he waited with wide eyes for what he was about to see. Would it be just an empty, yet ruined elevator? What if he saw the body of his friend, or a retinue of an angelic army?

"A- Ang- Aziraphale?" He had barely managed to get it out of his mouth when he saw the angel, standing there as if nothing had happened; brushing the dust off his cloak with a blissful smile on his lips.

"I'm glad you waited for me, my dear," Aziraphale said calmly.

"What are you - What happened - It got dark, and there were these flashes and bang bang," Crowley stuttered, gesticulating wildly with his hands.

"I blw them up." He replied calmly, as if he were talking about the weather, or a book he had recently read.

"You blew them up?!"

The angel nodded, looking incredibly pleased with himself.

"You blew them up?" The redhead repeated, incredulous at the grotesqueness of their current situation. "What? How?!"

"Well, with a bomb, of course. Several, actually. And grenades." He explained. "That was the plan all along, that's why I wanted to take you with me."

Crowley sighed, pacing next to his friend, who had apparently now decided to become an unabomber. He held his head, unable to believe all this, now having his own little nervous breakdown. He crouched down, letting out a groan, trying to cope with the information. "Where did you even get that idea?" He looked at the white-haired angel.

"First of all - Metatron threatened me, and more importantly, he threatened you." He shrugged. "There was no other way to stop him."

"So you just went there and killed everyone?!" He stood up, almost jumping to look at his friend more closely.

"Oh, love, don't be stupid." He cooed. "Not everyone, just a few. Lesser angels will still be needed to rebuild a new, better Heaven."

Crowley's legs almost buckled at the words the angel called him, while he stared at him blankly, as if the angel had begun speaking to him in Enochian.

"Where did you get the bombs? Ones that can kill angels?" he mumbled quietly, processing everything in his head.

"From Gabriel." He replied.

"Where did he get that?!"

Aziraphale shrugged, still wearing that blissful smile.

Crowley only moaned quiet "mhm". He continued to look at the angel, speechless, his mouth agape in silent shock.

"Where did we end?" The angel said suddenly. "Ah, yes, I remember now." He grabbed the demon by the lapels of his jacket and pulled him closer, connecting their lips in a passionate kiss, trying to express the millennia of hidden love in it. Crowley was shocked, but he did not stay in debt, after a moment returning the tenderness, pulling the other even closer, not wanting to let him go ever again. Aziraphale's hand sank into the red locks, and his tongue slipped between Crowley's lips, deepening the kiss.

"Woah," Crowley gasped when they pulled away from each other, looking into each other's eyes. Aziraphale smiled at him sweetly and happily, and only now did Crowley notice how lovingly his blue eyes shine. His smile was for the demon, like the first rays of sunlight after an all-night storm. "Now let's go, we've got Heaven to fix, a few thousand years to make up, and all the time in the world." The angel grabbed his hand and pulled him into the elevator.

[sentientsky]

welcome back to another installment of "there, i made it stupid(er)", where i take a heartfelt moment from one of my fics and infuse it with pure dumbassery

The Almighty turned to Crowley, met his gaze. A shiver ran through his demon, and Aziraphale pressed closer, protective. His hand trembled in the angel’s own, though he tried to hide it, the bones of his forearm locked in place. A muscle in his throat flexed, unflexed. 

“We never should have tested them to the point of destruction,” She murmured, gaze softening just a fraction. She turned back to the Metatron, and Crowley let out a sliver of air, his corporation seemingly remembering how to breathe, how to draw oxygen into empty lungs. His death grip on Aziraphale’s hand had loosened. 

Cautious, careful not to startle him, the angel ran his fingertips down the length of Crowley’s chest. He turned slightly, still not fully meeting his eyes. Memories of a grungy pub and a request for sherry surged through his mind, then. 

“My love,” he whispered. “Are you quite alright? I—”

“‘S like looking into the sun,” his demon rasped. “Not sure if it’s in a good way or a bad way, though…” he trailed off.  His face held the distant look of someone staring off into an uncertain horizon. 

“Crowley,” he said softly, gently—calling his love back from the salt-stained sea. He reached out a hand, golden eyes finally, finally meeting his own. “Are you alright?” He repeated, worry etching a deep furrow between his brows. 

He opened his mouth, seemed to rearrange his vocal cords for a moment. And then, “I think—I think I might have mommy issues.” 

“Oh, darling,” Aziraphale murmured, leaning in to press a soothing kiss to the demon’s temple. “I know. Don’t you recall that intervention I tried to give you back in 2013 when that young lady came out with a new album and you didn’t leave your flat for three weeks?” 

Images of Crowley curled up on his hardwood floors flashed through his memory: the scent of peppermint liqueur (the demon had been going through a peppermint phase, apparently), the dark of the room, and the rising tones of Mitski Miyawaki that drifted in the stagnant air. 

Mom would you wash my back this once / and then we can forget / and I’ll leave…

“She gets it! She’s the only one who gets it!” Crowley had wailed, wrapped up in a duck-patterned blanket and staring at the CD case of some album or other called Retired from Sad, New Career in Business.

[EDITOR'S NOTE: and this is when I stopped writing the crack fic because I too have curled up on the floor and cried to “Class of 2013” and it got too fucking real lmaooo]

There's no mitski in the actual fic (a fact which i deeply deeply regret because i would quite literally die for ms mitski miyawaki). anyway, here's the link, if you're interested (i swear the writing's--marginally--better in the final version lmao): x

[skyrigel]

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

A 'mysterious source' just told me that while heaven and hell suck, he'd die if he were crowley or aziraphale's employer and. like. That's so true?

Beelzebub: We don't have ze bezt reputation az employerz here in hell.

Beelzebub: But you try dealing with ze demon Crowley for a day.

[at admin]

Dagon: It says here you saved a bunny from being eaten.

Crowley: Hngk, well, no. I robbed a poor stray dog of its meal.

Dagon: Tell me you didn't then buy the stray dog food.

Crowley:

Dagon: Did you adopt the stray dog?

Crowley: ...if Demidemon barks, the neighbours can't sleep. They will then... uh, murder each other in their... senseless rage.

Dagon *face in hands*: Was God damning you or us when you fell?

[corwly]

hey hey so hey u should read smth uhhh this

it's so fucking lit

JFKSKENEBDIEJ @fellshish THIS GOT ME CACKLING EDGE OF MY SEAT TYPE SHIT OMG

[orionsangel86]

Suddenly remembering the best and funniest Good Omens fanfiction I ever read which was set at a mutual Heaven and Hell "work party" and all the demons had bets to see who could bed an angel by the end of the night. It was hilarious and of course you read it presuming that Crowley will win but be gentlemanly enough to not claim the prize - which of course is what happens, but at the last minute it hits you around the face by revealling that Beelzebub hooked up with Gabriel

and well.

I think I'm gonna go reread that fic...

[extraaa-30]

ineffable prompt

It's 1982, Crowley's just lost the coin toss & gone off to like Egypt or something to do both of their assignments. Neither of them wanted to go at all; Aziraphale's very smug & relieved to not have to.

Then one day he's out somewhere in Soho and, by chance, hears a certain new song on the radio.

Now he's racing to get to Crowley before it's too late, all rational thought out the window.

Because they've blessed the rains down in Africa

[finns-neverland]

Ok, hear me out on this one...

Deadpool/Wolverine + Crowley/Aziraphale crossover fic...

Two sets of beings who could do as much damage as they would like to and not get injured from it at all.

Sounds like a bangin' (literally) fic to me.

Credit to @ilovemosss for part of this idea

[outrageousring5655]

To celebrate the burfday of @goodomensafterdark DomMod @soggyfritter, this story was written and then, if you can believe it, recorded so that it can be enjoyed experienced in multiple formats. It was my great honor to narrate this cracksmut and witness the glorious vocal talents of @nosferatini and @ineffablecrankshaft as they brought these characters to life, for your aural pleasure. We do not advise listening to this in public, near the young, or those with sensitive constitutions. Only the most well seasoned, depraved and I dare say open-minded connoisseurs of audio smut should proceed.

[goodomensao3tagoftheday]

[demonsandpieohmy]

Snatched 3: Weekend at Crowley’s

Final chapter of Snatched is up! Thanks to @kneelbeforeyourdogbabylon for the beta and general support 😊

Aziraphale and Crowley are on the run with the Son of God in tow, trying to avert the Second Coming, but they run into a spot of trouble when they get Jesus discorporated. Luckily help is on the way, because as it turns out, body snatching? It runs in the family. The thrilling conclusion to the Snatched Saga.

8k words, rated M

TW/CWs: blood, dead bodies (no one actually dies they just get inconveniently discorporated), transphobia (very brief and justice is swiftly dealt), references to Sharknado

Read on AO3

———

“That was such a fun time,” Jesus said. “Crowley really is a great guide.”

“Oh yes,” Aziraphale said, “I’ve heard some of the stories.”

“Did he tell you about the time in Sweden when we got laid?” Jesus said.

Crowley spat out his coffee all over the steering wheel.

“No, no, we didn’t–” he sputtered. Aziraphale was looking at him with absolute horror.

“Yes we did, we laid together under the stars.”

“Jesus, that’s not the phrase,” Crowley said quickly. “Your translation from Aramaic isn’t quite–”

“When we slept together?” Jesus amended.

“So much worse, dear Satan, I think you mean when we slept adjacent but separately, respectable distance apart, to watch the northern lights, and do absolutely nothing else.”

Aziraphale was glaring daggers at him.

Things had been weird between the two of them since they reunited. Neither of them were good at talking about their feelings, and they’d been so busy running around trying to figure out what The Metatron was up to that they’d barely had time to do anything more than have marathon sex in the Bentley. And now here they were, on babysitting duty for the Son of God.

Continue reading on AO3

Read from the beginning

@goodomensafterdark

[bird-slayer-brainrot]

Who? - Ineffable Husband watch Doctor Who - crack, fluff

"Mr Bond, you're truly a hero." the blond, bespectacled women said to him. It had been quite a victory, that much was true. The girl clutched Bond's arm, blushing up at him. "Mr Bond, it was ever so brave of scramoush scaramoush will you do the fandango.......

"Crowley, is that you?"

Crowley groaned. Blinking into awareness, Crowley pressed the phone to his ear. He really should change his ringtone. Leave your phone in the Bentley once and it thinks it has the right. "Yes, yes, hello Aziraphale."

"Oh dear," the angel paused for a moment, and Crowley pulled himself out of his covers and sat up. "Were you asleep? I'm so sorry for interrupting you. I'll let you get back to it."

"No, no." Crowley cleared his throat. The angel, to his credit, sounded genuinely distressed by the prospect of accidentally waking Crowley from his sleep. Crowley grimaced. "I was just getting up. What's the matter?"

Aziraphale was silent for a moment. The static buzzing of a tea kettle, knowing him, transferring through his end was all that could be heard.

"I'm afraid it's rather silly." That got Crowley's attention. He performed a quick miracle and he was dressed. Black sweater, black sweatpants (even demon's had lazy days, and he planned on gardening) and combat boots (to make up for the sweatpants). Aziraphale made a noise over the phone. "It's really not important. There was just something I wanted to show you, if... if you're not busy."

Crowley, of course, had nothing on. But Aziraphale wanted to see him so he was obviously free. Even if he had something on, he'd try and get... okay, no, that line of inquiry is well worn. He just wanted to see Aziraphale. He was bored yada yada.

"I'll be there." Crowley said into the microphone.

"Oh, good." Aziraphale's sigh transmitted through, and Crowley really had no clue then what it was Aziraphale wanted to see him for, and the angel wasn't telling him. "I'll see you soon. Safe driving."

"Never," Crowley responded, as usual. Aziraphale hung up the phone and Crowley sprung up and grabbed his keys.

Aziraphale was pacing.

Perhaps he shouldn't have called Crowley. It was ridiculous, this whole thing. But he couldn't, in good conscious, not tell the demon. It would be simply unfair not to. And Aziraphale was an angel, so he should be the one to tell him.

The bell at the door chimed. Crowley stepped inside, miracling his clothing dry. Aziraphale breathed a sigh of relief.

"Crowley," he approached his friend, smiling as the demon propped himself a bookshelf. "You look cozy. How was the drive?"

The demon tilted his head and put a hand on his hip. "Uhh, fine." he finally spoke. That was good. That was very good. "So do you mind telling me what's going on?"

"Ah, yes." Aziraphale shifted, adjusting his cardigan, "Well, I stumbled across something that might be rather interesting to you. On..." Aziraphale paused, but Crowley, who knew Aziraphale's mannerisms as well as his own, waited. "the television."

Crowley smiled.

"Aziraphale..."

"Crowley."

And the demon laughed as Aziraphale led him upstairs.

It was unexpected.

They were in the small sitting room in the flat at the top of Aziraphale's bookshop. Crowley had only been up here on occasion. The room was like the rest of the space. There was a small, brown couch with a blanket and several homemade cushions; an antique coffee table covered with books, a newspaper, two tea cups and a half finished plate of biscuits; and a slim and small TV on the bureau. The curtains were drawn.

"This is cozy." Crowley said as Aziraphale sat on the couch and reached for the remote. Crowley took that as invitation to join him. And waited.

The theme of Doctor Who began to play, and at this, Crowley looked over at the angel. Aziraphale was watching the screen, adjusting his cardigan again. Several names flashed across the screen, then, the title, The Christmas Invasion.

The episode started to play. Ten minutes in, Aziraphale paused it, and slowly turned his head to face Crowley. Crowley was already looking at Aziraphale.

"That." was all Crowley said.

"I know." Aziraphale flinched. "I was just as surprised as you."

"David Tennant?"

Aziraphale shifted. "I was meaning to catch up on the series, before it got too far away from me." he tried to explain. "And, well, there's this." he gestured towards the screen, where a still image of David Tennant's sleeping face. The resemblance to the demon at his right was uncanny.

"And you thought this was my doing?"

"Well," Aziraphale shrugged. "I didn't know what to think, but you seem just as surprised by this information."

Crowley leaned back into the couch, pondering this for a moment. Then he shrugged, and got up.

"Wait, where are you going? You can't hurt him!"

Crowley spun around on his feet. The expression on his face was incredulous.

"Aziraphale." he said in a measured tone. "That is a human man. You want to watch Doctor Who, and so do I. I'm grabbing wine." then he turned away again, and walked out of the room.

Several hours later...

Aziraphale turned the TV off. They stared at the black screen.

"That was..."

A noise broke through the silence. Aziraphale turned his head, and Crowley turned his away.

"Crowley." he said gently. "Are you... crying?"

Crowley sneered at this and turned back to face Aziraphale. His face was dry, miraculously, and Aziraphale felt a wave of tenderness wash through him.

"Well," Aziraphale's hand itched to reach out and comfort the demon. On the screen, the Doctor walked away from the wall dividing him and Rose. Well, the wall that was actually a gap in the void. The theme swelled, and Aziraphale's heart clenched. He paused the episode.

"Next one?" Crowley said gently, and Aziraphale obliged.

Later, Crowley would deny ever crying at that episode. It was not brought up again.

[on1occasionfork]

Rating: G, no archive warnings apply

Summary: Aziraphale makes an effort (not that kind of effort) to get with the times. It goes…poorly.

Excerpt:

It was a rousing success, if he did say so himself. Not only had he vastly expanded his horizons (and his knowledge of something called a ‘meme’), but indeed, thanks to that clock application, he had learned an entire new language, one he took to much more easily than he ever had French. No talking about his nonexistent aunt’s nonexistent pen this time!

Read more on Ao3

@goodomensafterdark

[theravenmuse]

A Scam of Ineffable Proportions

Crack fic!

Thanks to an extended goblin meetup, @startledplatypus and I rediscovered this fic I wrote for her forever ago and that was promptly forgotten about by both of us without her even reading it?! Then the both of us along with @gaiaseyes451 spent several minutes cackling over it before deciding that it absolutely had to go on AO3 to be shared with the rest of GOAD and any other soul who might happen upon it.

CW: none

Summary: Crack shenanigans involving a Nigerian prince

READ IT NOW!!!

@goodomensafterdark

[startledplatypus]

intentionally horrid art by... me

Indyoni Crowley and the Temple of the Jade Egg

By @startledplatypus and @wingsofopal

Rated: E; Words: 8.3K; Genre: crackfic

CW: none, but being an April Fool's fic, "Dead Dove: Do Not Eat" is in effect

Summary:

Aziraphale receives an unexpected gift from the new shop on Whickber Street and asks Crowley to help him figure out how to use it. Since they're both already a bit pissed, what would have been a weird evening anyway goes completely pear-shaped... or, in this case, egg-shaped.

Involves the improper use of a yoni egg, tampons, lubricant, and fire. Involves the dubious use of French and a lisp, but not a French lisp. Trauma is arguably enacted upon a Chesterfield sofa as well as one desk and its entire contents.

Also be advised that there are two regrettable but noble deaths: Aziraphale's trousers and Crowley's vintage Bob Marley tee.

Excerpt (Read the entire story on ao3):

Aziraphale hiccoughed loudly.

“Think y’ve had enough, angel,” Crowley drawled, perched on the Chesterfield’s arm and barely hanging on to his coffee mug. They’d decided to get drunk enough that they shouldn’t use the crystal tonight.

“Crowley, dear, I am completely sober!’’ squealed the angel, almost sending his teacup airborne. By the grace of Someone, he managed to grab hold of it instead, using it to indicate the desk at which he sat. ”There is something I wanted to show you – I am not sure what it means, exactly. Maybe you can help me?’’

Crowley raised an eyebrow.

“I received a package recently, and it contained the most bizarre thing!”

This time Crowley hiccoughed. (The demon would’ve insisted that he belched. Crowley did not hiccough, according to Crowley.) “Wot is it?”

“Well, they seem to have been sent to all the Whickber Street shops. There’s a new…” Aziraphale realised his teacup was seriously askew and carefully set it on his desk. “What was I… oh! There’s a new shop on the corner. A… Sex Shop,” he enunciated, as if it might be a Clue.

*~*~*

Special thanks to our beta readers @theravenmuse, @spookysexy, and @cheeseplants as well as to the continual support of the awesome community at @goodomensafterdark!