Good Omens Oneshots

Miniature Golf [Crowley X Reader]

Honestly, Crowley had no idea why he was here in the first place. It wasn't exactly the sort of thing demons did. Maybe it was, maybe he was actually the one responsible for this abomination. Miniature golf did seem like something that would piss off hundreds of people or tempt them into cheating. But why was he here? He couldn't remember as he sat in the shade, it was dreadfully hot after all.

"Maybe I was supposed to tempt someone," he mused to himself.

"Old Man Jenkins lives in the small treehouse just down the course," a person spoke so sure of himself Crowley almost believed that there was an Old Man Jenkins. Almost.

"What?!" some kids shrieked. "Why does he live in a treehouse."

"He's the caretaker of this place." Crowley looked over and saw you leading a group of kids. "He has to make sure it's all taken care of. So he lives in the treehouse."

"Where does he sleep?"

"The treehouse! He has a small cot in the corner. And on the other wall is one of those camping stoves. He has a minifridge in there. Sweet old thing. When we came here last week, he was fishing some of the golf balls out of the pound while sipping some lemonade."

Crowley raised an eyebrow while listening to your outrageous lies. You said them so smoothly that if he hadn't known any better, he would have believed you.

"Well, can we say hi to him?" one of the children you were with asked.

"Oh yeah," you laughed lightly. "If he's in. I think I heard him say last week that he might be at a miniature golf convention in Oxford."

"Why would he go to that?"

"He owns this place; he's got to stay updated on all things miniature golf!"

"Well, let's go say hi to him!"

Crowley watched with amusement as you trudged through the golf course and up to a treehouse that no one lived in, which was only obvious to adults. You slammed your hand against the "door" of the treehouse and waited.

"Hmm," you hummed to yourself. "Old man must be at the convention or grocery shopping! But if we see him we'll make sure to say hi. Maybe, if we have time, we can all make cards for him to thank him for letting us golf here!"

The kids spoke amongst each other in an excited frenzy. Crowley had to cover his mouth to hold in a bark of laughter. Your amused smirk at the oblivious children made it all the funnier.

Crowley kept an eye on you as you took the children through the golf course. Through his demonic senses, he was able to hear all of the outrageous lies you told the children about the old man. The lies only built on each other, making the story all the more believable that Old Man Jenkins existed. Although, some of the lies really seemed to push the limits on what could have possibly been real.

Like the lie you told when the children had to golf through a small, artificial cave. "Old Man Jenkins likes to hide in the cave and scare people. He's a bit senile." Still, the children seemed to be eating up all of the fibs.

Finally, the group of children made it to the final hole. One after the other, they hit the ball into a pit of other balls. Each time, a voice would go off.

"Better keep practicing!" an old man exclaimed through a recording.

"See, that's Old Man Jenkins!" you said with a wide smile.

The children were all in awe and kept on asking if they could see if Old Man Jenkins was back yet. That's when you started to crack and seemed nervous. You shrugged and went to go walk to the front desk to see if you could pull it off. However, the children followed you. You'd have issues asking about someone that didn't exist.

Crowley decided it was time to intervene. He stood up from the bench he was lounging on and sauntered his way over.

"Excuse me," he said. You turned to look at him expectedly. "Are you looking for Old Man Jenkins?"

"Yes!" some of the kids shouted and jumped up and down. "Is he here? I can't believe he's real!"

"Well, I'm actually his grandson," Crowley said. He kept a close eye on your face to see it morph from confusion to excitement. "He's in Oxford right now at a convention. He told me to keep an eye on things here."

Your lips trembled as you fought to keep your laughter at bay. Instead, you coughed furiously into the crook of your arm. Crowley smirked at your reaction and went on about the golf convention his so-called grandfather was at. The kids sat on the ground in front of him and listened to the stories he was coming up with at the spot. One by one, a kid would disappear after their parents picked them up, leaving just you.

"That was the most amazing thing ever," you giggled out after the last child was gone. "I have no idea who you are, but you're my favorite person now."

"The name's Crowley," he said and stuck his hand out for you to grasp.

"[Y/N]!" you responded with enthusiasm and went to shake his hand. Instead, he brought your hand to his lips and gave it a suave kiss. Your cheeks lit up a bright red that was most definitely not due to the summer heat.

"Charmed," Crowley purred with a smirk. "How about I take you out to dinner?" he tempted.