squiddz <3!!! i am very curious about 'tony vol 2' and 'summer lovin happened so fast'!
Hello hello!
AH YES our boy tony. Tony vol 2 is the rough outline of a sequel to this ficlet I wrote for the events Name The Author event! It’s meant to be a bit of pwp with Feelings, where they basically bang in the bathroom at the back of a pub. Here’s a lil snip!
He was here somewhere. Even if Crowley hadn't already mentioned he'd been skulking about this area working a few temptations, Aziraphale would have known. He could feel the dense ripple of something occult, could smell the hint of sulphur and scorched wood that lingered underneath the stench of tobacco and stale beer.
Sure enough, he spotted Crowley sitting further down the bar, chatting away to a middle-aged man in a chocolate brown suit. The hazy pub lights seemed to soften all the demon’s sharp edges, turned his shoulder length hair a rich chestnut. He smiled broadly at his conversational partner, top lip still embellished with red hair, and his easy demeanour with the human made something jagged and horrible twist in the bottom of Aziraphale's stomach.
Crowley caught sight of him over the man’s shoulder, and Aziraphale’s heart climbed into his throat. He waved off the human and weaved through the crowd at the bar until he was standing close enough for Aziraphale to smell his cologne.
"Aziraphale, what… what are you doing here?”
The desire that had been slow burning in Aziraphale's abdomen suddenly glowed red hot, and without thinking, he leaned forward and put his mouth next to Crowley's ear.
"Looking for you.”
As for summer lovin, this was a fic I had wanted to write based on a list of prompts someone posted last year called Summer Omens. I wanted it to be Az and Crowley taking a little holiday to the seaside after Armageddon, and I wanted to set it in the part of England where I grew up! I sadly only managed one prompt (lmao rip me) but I might try it again this summer!
In hindsight, Aziraphale wasn't entirely sure why he’d expected anything else from a seaside getaway in Britain. Of course it was going to be cold. When Crowley had suggested going away for the weekend, he'd harboured fantasies of strolling along the pier and holding hands on the beach, a kitsch room in an old B&B and romantic seafood dinners by candlelight. They’d hopped in the Bentley and drove north out of London, through the flat East Anglian countryside, until they reached the coast. Once Crowley had parked up along the promenade, Aziraphale excitedly scrambled out of the car, able to taste the salt on the air before he’d even managed to get the door open.
Then he’d laid eyes on the North Sea, murky and turbid with no way of knowing what he was stepping into, and his enthusiasm faltered.
Now he stood rooted to the spot, Oxfords dangling from one hand, the rolled-up cuffs of his trousers brushing the backs of his knees, and watched as another wave dashed against Crowley’s legs before retreating with a hiss.
Thank you for asking about my stuff!