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[...]„Sssanks, angel. Itsss going to be okay in a moment.“ [Crowley] whispers.
He can feel Aziraphale shift under him. Suddenly he is very aware of everywhere their bodies are touching. Oh sssshit.[...]
From „Our own mess“ on Ao3
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One chapter full of smut coming right up. Has it worked? Am I doomed yet?
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Holy moly, I reached 50k+ with my fic, „Our own mess“, can you believe it???
~chirp chirp chirp~
Anyway, to whom it may concern: Chapter 17 is now up on Ao3 :D
Sneak peek of the next chapter
I don‘t know if you could call it a writer‘s block, cause I am writing for my fic a lot - it‘s just that I am not at all happy with the results and that‘s why there hasn‘t been another update for „Our own mess“ this week. As this fic is the first thing I am writing for myself other than uni or work since years and years, I don’t know shit about how to deal with this.
So as long as I stew over there in my little muddy pond of anxiety and lack of confidence, have this snippet of chapter 17, the only thing I currently like:
The air stinks of burned rubber and overheated electronical devices.
The passenger door opens.
Aziraphale climbs out on shaky knees, stumbles over to a boulder by the road and collapses on it with a whimper. He doesn’t spare the beautiful buildings a single glance.
Behind him, Warlock gets out of the car.
“That – was – WICKED!!!” He yells, throwing his arms in the air and doing pivots on the gravel.
Crowley folds his limbs out of the driver’s seat.
“It was all whooohoooo, and then swwwish! and then we jumped over that closed railway gait! - and then, and then…” Warlock is getting visibly dizzy from turning so much and has to lean against the Bentley. He buries his hands in the dark strands of his hair. Then he looks up at the demon. “Uncle Crowley, that was a-mazing!”
Aziraphale wishes the hero worship for Crowley shining in his godson’s eyes would have been caused by literally anything else.
„The kids are leaning out of the kitchen window, craning their necks and laughing their heads off. Crowley has to stand on tiptoes to get a look at what has them so entertained.
Glee sneaks into his expression.
Oh, I had totally forgotten about that, but damn, I got him good…
“Ahem.”
Uh-oh.
The demon turns slowly to see a slightly miffed out Aziraphale standing behind him, tapping his foot.
“Care to explain what got the whole neighbourhood in turmoil, darling? And why you are looking so smug about it?”
From „Our own mess“ on Ao3
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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[...]They can hear Warlock cheer in the background.
„It‘s gonna be wicked!“, he exclaims. „I can‘t wait to see you!“
„He already sounds like Adam.“, Aziraphale murmurs from the corner of his mouth.
„You ought to miracle the bookshop fireproof.“, Crowley murmurs back.[...]
From „Our own mess“ on Ao3
„[They] have to steady themselves from time to time, which comes with a lot of soft “Ooops, thank you my dear!”s (when Aziraphale starts swinging slightly from side to side and the demon catches him by the elbow) and even more of “Ngk, sorry!”s (when Aziraphale has to grab the back of Crowley’s jacket last moment before he would fall square on his face [...]“
From „Our own mess“ on Ao3
