COMING SOON
(With the cheapest cover art ever known to man)
Drive me to the moon - a good omens human AU
A classic enemies to friends to lovers set up, a lot of angst and an eventual happy ending, where Aziraphale is a professional dancer and Crowley a rally driver
(Stay with me, it's gonna be fiiiine, you'll even think rally might be fun after that)
Excerpt:
The Ritz, privatised by the brand for the occasion, was masterfully decorated, in a tasteful mix of athletics and Christmas themes. Gladly accepting the glass of Champagne offered, Aziraphale took a moment to look around, lingering his eyes on the pictures displayed all around the room. Gomens really endorsed a large variety of athletes, from the more traditional sports professionals, like football players, to more niche competitors. As a dancer, Aziraphale was grateful for the opportunities the brand had given him. Their endorsement was the main support for his career, and together, they had made competitive dancing a sport to be reckoned with. As he was walking the room to admire the pictures of his colleagues - that particular picture of Eric Bunn breaking the water on a 10 metres dive was absolutely stunning - he came across his own face, shut by effort and concentration. He winced. It was not that he didn’t like the way he looked while dancing; the costumes and makeup were always amazing, and the dance always made him look more elegant and graceful than he truly was. No. It was just that he didn’t like the way he looked, period. He had always known that he had an unconventional body type for an athlete - he had always been a bit round on the tummy, and pretty much everywhere else actually - and he had mostly made peace with it at the start of his career, as his features never revealed to be an obstacle. But to see himself on display like this would always make him feel uncomfortable. The picture was beautiful. He was not. “Admiring yourself huh?” He jolted his head to see who had made the comment, and his stare landed on the back of a tall, thin figure just passing him. A flow of fiery red hair was brushing narrow, sharp shoulders in a black tuxedo, and its owner barely turned their head to smirk at Aziraphale, continuing their walk to the furthest table in an over the top swaying of hips.
Coming soon, writing is 90% done 🫡
Tell me if you want to get on the tag list my dear readers 💛









