#my first good omens fic!

[forlornmelody]

Icarus & The Sun

Rating: Mature (Things get hot and heavy but no actual smut)

Fandom: Good Omens

Ship: Crowley/Aziraphale

Summary:  My take on the 1941 kiss, or is it?

Note: Mind the tags, will you? This ain't your mum's 1941 kiss.

-----

“There must be something I can do for you in return?” Surely the angel has realized by now how ridiculous he seems when he looks at Crowley like that. 

“Forget it, will you?” If Crowley were any other demon, he’d walk all over him. “Right.” Crowley clears his throat shifting the conversation and the Bentley to safer places. Aziraphale would be scandalized if he had any idea of what he was offering. “Spot of business to do–”

“Have you ever wondered what it was like?”

The Bentley jerks to a stop. A bomb nearly falls on them but Crowley whisks it out of existence with an automatic wave of his hand. He’s too focused on the white knuckles of his other hand to pay attention to much else. ‘Lot going on. That’s why he’s not hearing the angel right. Right? “What?”

Aziraphale giggles girlishly, only to swallow it with a cough. “I mean. They do it all the time. The humans, I mean.”

Bloody hell, Angel. “Do what?” Crowley dares to glance at the angel, praying-well, not praying exactly –that the shadow of his sunglasses hide where his gaze is pointing. No. Aziraphale’s not blushing. It’s the fiery glow of London’s streets. Yeah. That’s it. 

The angel nudges the Bentley into park. And then his fingers ghost across Crowley’s once free hand. “Touch each other.”

Aziraphale’s fingertips are as soft as the whisper of an owl’s feathers. They light a spark on the back of Crowley’s hand–one that travels up his spine and back down. He forgets to breathe. 

“You alright, Crowley?” Aziraphale starts to pull his hand away, before Crowley grabs onto it for dear life. 

“Don’t stop,” Crowley chokes out, squeezing Aziraphale’s fingers between his own. Dear Satan, if the other demons saw him now. 

His angel smiles as bright as the sun. He clears his throat, glancing down at the hand still clutched between Crowley’s and the demon lets go as if he had been holding onto a hot iron. “Thank you,” Aziraphale says with the softest chuckle. With a boldness that always catches Crowley by surprise, he grazes those finger tips across his hand again, but he goes farther this time, letting them fly up inside Crowley’s jacket, stilling as his palm finds his beating heart. The angel lets out a soft gasp, his finger tip matching the rhythm that hammers inside Crowley's chest. His lips stay parted, and Crowley’s tongue darts out of his mouth ever so slightly, as if he could taste the angel from here. “You’re so warm.”

“Sorry to disappoint you.” Crowley means it as a joke, but it comes out in a desperate rasp. Clearly no one who has touched a demon has ever actually said they were cold hearted. Has…has any other demon been touched like this? 

Aziraphale’s fingers brush the satin of Crowley’s shirt, and one finger grazes the space between two buttons, just barely touching his skin. Something inside Crowley snaps. He scoops up the angel’s hand, drawing it up to his lips to kiss. His eyes watch Aziraphale for a reaction, any reaction. The angel says nothing, though that blush– definitely a blush –spreads across his round cheeks. 

“Angel…” Crowley whispers, half-begging, half-warning.

“Crowley?” Aziraphale’s bright eyes search his own, his smile growing wider and wider…

The demon feels as if his body is being pulled through the center of the universe. With a trembling hand, Crowley dares to brush his fingers along the angel’s jaw. “Aziraphale,” he whispers.

Crowley isn’t sure who kisses who first—only that he would dare to never breathe again if that meant he could keep kissing him. Aziraphale presses deeper, drinking the demon in the same way he did his first goblet of wine—all haste and hunger, and Crowley can’t bear to tell him to slow down. That angel can’t decide on where to keep his hands, and so they wander from winding underneath Crowley's hat to grasp at his hair–to his shoulders, his back, his arms…Grinning against Crowley’s mouth, Aziraphale runs his fingers innocently…or perhaps not, to Crowley’s belt. 

Finally, Aziraphale pulls away from kissing Crowley, biting his swollen lip. Crowley didn’t even think about biting. Oh how he wants to now….”Is this alright?” The angel tugs on Crowley’s belt ever so slightly. Funny how Crowley hadn’t noticed how tight his pants had become. 

“Yes . ”  

Aziraphale’s fingers fumble as he works on the buckle, and Crowley is half-tempted to wrench his hands out of the way to speed things up but his knuckles feel oh so wonderful against his crotch–the belt gets tossed into the backseat. The angels fingers wander into Crowley’s pants–

Crowley’s eyes fly open. He sits up, shivering in his own sweat. Even the heat of his flat can’t match that of an angel’s touch. Bumping into his desk, Crowley remembers the day he watched the new archangel leave. How he waited for what felt like an eternity for Aziraphale to change his mind-to step out of that elevator with a laugh “Oh, Crowley, I didn’t mean it!” But that moment didn’t come. 

Does Aziraphale dream of him? Does he sleep? Does Aziraphale ever get the chance to sleep? 

Wandering into the atrium, Crowley gazes up at the sky. 

[thatskindarough]

“‘I just…I thought you might like to come back, one day,’ Crowley said very quietly. Aziraphale’s foot pressed against his again, and Crowley drew in a sudden breath, as if he hadn’t been breathing properly since Aziraphale had stopped touching him.”

This piece was a commission from the lovely @fellshish for their lovely friend, @alphacentaurinebula ‘s fic What Are You Doing Here? This fic is cute, funny, heartwarming, and incredibly spicy, and I’m very much looking forward to finishing it! Thank you Fells for being wonderful to work with, and happy (belated) birthday to you Alphacentauri, I’m very happy I could do this for you!

[acheemient]

If part 3 of 1941 is not "A Nightingale Sang In Berkeley Square" coming on the radio and Crowley standing from the table where they have been drinking wine and coming around to Aziraphale's side and offering his hand to Aziraphale to dance, and Aziraphale looking a bit wonderstruck and a bit delighted and taking Crowley's hand, and they slow dance, holding each other so close, and they look into each other's eyes, and Crowley whispers, "Angel," and he's looking at Aziraphale's lips with all the wanting in the universe written upon his eyes, and Aziraphale with a face that says he's never wanted anything more than to swallow Crowley whole so he can Keep him, and they lean in, and at the very last second, Aziraphale stops them and they are standing there breathing heavily with their foreheads pressed together, and Aziraphale whispers, "I want to; oh God, I want to," and Crowley whines and tries again, but Aziraphale pulls back but doesn't leave Crowley's arms, and says, "We can't," and Crowley looks like he's been slapped, and Aziraphale looks so heartbroken and says, "They almost caught us tonight, and they would have destroyed you" and then continues so quietly, like it's a secret, "I don't know what I would do if I lost you," and Crowley tries to protest saying they can be sneaky, they won't get caught, they can have this, together, and Aziraphale looks so sad and says, "Oh Crowley," and Crowley knows Aziraphale is so close to agreeing and so close to pulling away, and he whispers, "Please," and for a second Aziraphale looks like he is going to give in, but he can't put Crowley in danger, so he makes his face colder, and he steps out of Crowley's arms, even though it nearly kills him to do so, and he says, "Besides, you know Angels don't dance," and Crowley remembers himself says, "No I don't suppose they do," and he straightens up and puts his glasses on and pretends nothing happened and says, "Of course you're right," and they nod at each other and Crowley moves to leave the bookshop, and Aziraphale feels like he's about to lose something so precious that he will not be able to ever get back, so he calls "Crowley," and Crowley turns to look at him, and Aziraphale says, "Perhaps someday...," but he can't say what he really means (some day we can have that, someday we can be together how we want, someday I will stop pulling away), so he visually changes his mind and finishes with, "we can dine at the Ritz," and he prays to a God that he, in this moment, hates so, so much for keeping him from the demon he loves more than anything, that Crowley understands his true meaning, and Crowley looks like maybe he does and like maybe he still has hope, and he nods and says, "Stay safe, Angel," and Aziraphale nods back, and then Crowley leaves, and Aziraphale is left looking absolutely devastated and heartbroken and angry, truly angry, for the first time in his long and lonely existence that he has to be loyal to Her rather than to him, and he takes a moment, takes a breath, and walks silently over to the radio and turns up the volume on the song and closes his eyes and gives himself that moment to remember what it felt like to be held, to be loved, to imagine what saying yes would bring, then honestly what is even the point of all of this?

[foolishlovers]

anything can be a good omens au if you’re unhinged enough

[p4nishers]

no but actually imagine being immortal and meeting THE LOVE OF UR FUCKING ENDLESS LIFE and spending SIX THOUSAND MFING YEARS imagining an ETERNAL future with them and fucking knowing that you want to spend ACTUAL FOREVER with them like dude im gonna fucking choke and die how can love like that exist even in fucking fiction?? HOW??? this is making me so emotional imagine someone wanting to spend actual fucking eternity with you i would die at the mere fucking possibility. "and we spend our EXISTENCE pretending that we aren't (...) and i would like to spend–" are u fucking kidding me rn man??? fuck off fuck u shut up

[watchingwisteria]

aziraphale, the one who gave the first human exiles his flaming sword as both a source of protection and warmth, who did not look on them as sinners deserving of destruction but people entitled to the best chances possible, has never once looked at crowley, a heavenly exile, with anything other than compassion and a desire to protect. from their first meeting, he never wanted anything bad to happen to him. when crowley slithers up to him in eden, he treats him like an equal rather than an adversary. when crowley appears, his eyes fill with love and excitement, his gaze turns soft and hesitant, his whole body seizes with joy of seeing him. crowley might typically the one to seek him out, but aziraphale has always welcomed him home.

[tanpopomugishu]

So, yeah, I kinda made something.

I totally have @mrghostrat 's wonderful streamers au living in my head rent free for quite a while now... (@mrghostrat If you happen to see this post. Hi!!! I'm a big fan!) EDIT : Added the last page 😁

This is not based on any chapter of ATWS, and I have no idea where this sits on the timeline of the story 😂.

I just thought it would be cute to see Crowley sulking because of a bad streaming day or something and crash Aziraphale's stream for a cuddle.

Hope you enjoy this!

[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...

[knifeforkspooncup]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Additional Tags: Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), 6000 Years of Pining (Good Omens), Touch-Starved Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley is Angry at God (Good Omens), Scared Aziraphale (Good Omens), Fluff, Mutual Pining, Protective Aziraphale (Good Omens), Song: Please Please Please Let Me Get What I Want (The Smiths), Romantic Fluff Summary:

A soft footstep falters close behind him, signalling he’s not alone. Aziraphale.

Crowley knows he should pull himself together, turn to the angel with an expectant smirk, inviting him to start their next round of banter on the merits of modern music.

Let himself be carried into the afternoon on a river of wine and good conversation, muffling the anger and longing under his friend’s expert guidance. Follow Aziraphale’s cautious lead like he’d promised to 18 years ago, you go too fast for me, Crowley.

It was enough most days. It had to be.

But Crowley can smell the lavender and mint notes in his cologne, can picture his hands grasping the wine bottle at the neck, the soft way his waistcoat wrinkles when he sits. He’s not sure it’s enough today.

--------------------------------------------

It's 1985 and Crowley is settling into what promises to be another afternoon of excessive drinking and banter at the bookshop. Both he and Aziraphale are tenderly getting back to a shaky semblance of normal after a century and a half of renewed terror and revelations about their relationship. But it's a fragile existence.

And they want more.

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Oh hey look! It’s my first fic!

Thank you to my amazing beta reader and DM debauchery gremlin @aspiring-pansy​. I probably wouldn’t have finished this without your hype.

I hope y’all enjoy this little emotional rollercoaster!

(Also none of you music kids come for me about the music notes ok, I don’t know anything about anything about music notation)

(Also also shamelessly tagging anyone and everyone who said they wanted my ao3/wanted to read this fic last week - NO PRESSURE TO READ)

[mrghostrat]

BILV I AM FULLY CONFIDENT WHEN I SAY THAT BNF CH12 IS THE REASON GOOD OMENS IS TRENDING AGAIN

ALSO

OUCH

for those who like numbers: bnf has officially passed mon horrible chéri’s hits! it’s my dearest fic, has been since the moment i started planning it, so i’m exceptionally proud and thrilled to see it finally approaching ATWS’s popularity.

i think atws is great too, but all of you who were there at the start will know that it was just a silly aesthetic idea that tripped and stumbled into a fic. i’d been planning bnf since before streamer au turned into anything, so it’s just real rewarding to see something i’ve put so much effort into earning such a huge response 💕

[smoosie]

Your 3 part series of The South Downs Cottage are incredible!! I keep coming back to look at them, and my mind keeps spinning with all possible outcomes. It would be amazing if you were planning on part 4… is there still hope somewhere?? For the part 4, for THEM??? It’s devastating and breathtaking at the same time. Gorgeous work!

There you go !

nah jk

or am I ?

[fearandhatred]

the cucumber aziraphale to the bestie @crowleys-bentley-and-plants' tomato crowley!! i got really into it for some reason so it's way more detailed than i intended it to be lmaoo

[breeberrypies]

Reverse AU🤯

[twilightcitysky]

WIP WEDNESDAY

@anotherwellkeptsecret was kind enough to make me a stunning illustration for the upcoming chapter of Chemistry. Posting it with a little snippet of what's to come in Chapter 14:

They were both scared, and neither had to go through it alone anymore. 

Be not afraid. “I love you,” he whispered, feeling his lips and tongue make the shape of those words for the very first time. ‘It feels loved… I’m astonished you can’t feel it’. Had he said that out of spite, or hope? Perhaps both. 

“Right. Good.” Crowley closed his eyes. The noise he made was such a stereotypical sigh of relief– ‘Phew’– that Aziraphale almost laughed, but bit his lip because he suspected it was a genuine reaction. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t–” 

Crowely shook his head minutely. Aziraphale remembered being shushed at the airbase (“I was technically on apple tree duty…”). When Crowley's eyes opened, there was a sheen to them. 

Aziraphale smiled at him. Crowley scowled. “‘M fine,” he said, and rubbed the inside of his wrist across his cheeks. “Don’t say anything.” 

“Not a word.” 

[crowleyholmes]

"They would have stayed"

They sit in silence for the most part. The only sound the gentle lapping of the waves over sand and stone. It's fine. It's good. It's nice.

It is the first time in many years Crowley hasn't been alone.

He's afraid of even reaching for it, but he almost, almost does. He holds it gently, this delicate new... something, cradles it like a baby dove, barely daring to touch it for fear of scaring it away or breaking it and losing it before it can ever take flight. He knows it's dangerous, and it's likely to hurt him so much more in the long run than leaving it by the side of the metaphorical road would hurt him now. But the tentative companionship is a gentle breeze soothing his singed wings, the fragile understanding a drop of water on his parched soul.

It is also the last time for many years to come that Aziraphale isn't alone.

He's afraid of holding on to it but he can't help it, he has no choice. It's a lifeline that could drag him to his death but it's the only one he has and he is reaching for it with both hands hanging on for dear life. And it feels so right. How can this thing, this dark, wrong, forbidden thing he did, this lie, this betrayal, and now this silent connection be the first thing that has felt right since... well, since the creation of the Universe?

They might - no, they would stay longer if their respective sides permitted it. Alas, they do not. They tug at them always, constantly, invisible chains in the back of their minds.

(@saryasy revenge <3)

[tawnyevergreen]

“Wouldn’t it be loverly”

Art for My Fair Angel, a My Fair Lady AU by rocketarcher as part of the silver screen bang organized by @do-it-with-style-events 🤍🤍