Hello! My name is Payton/Moth, I write on A03 (username: Raining_stormcloud) and am starting to post things on here! I have my personal blog (@raining-stormcloud) and am open to asks on both blogs!! Feel free to ask anything on both, but try keep writing things on here.
Please note that this blog will contain nsfw writing, posts with this will have a disclaimer, minors (under 18) dni with these posts.
I'm apart of multiple fandoms, currently only writing for good omens and sanders sides.
I keep seeing people making fun of using growled, hissed, roared, snarled etc in writing and it’s like.
have you never heard someone speak with the gravel in their voice when they get angry? Because that’s what a growl is.
Have you never heard someone sharply whisper something through the thin space of their teeth? Or when your mother sharply told you to stop it in public as a kid when you were acting up/being too loud? Because that’s what a hiss is.
Have you never heard a man get so blackout angry that their voice BOOMS through the house? Because that’s what a roar is.
Have you never seen someone bare their teeth while talking to accentuate their frustration or anger while speaking with a vicious tone? Because that’s what snarling is.
It’s not meant to be a literal animal noise. For the love of god, not every description is literal. I get some people are genuinely confused, but also some of these people are genuinely unimaginative as fuck.
My fic 'Broken guitar strings' won't be getting an update this month as I'm working on a new Sanders Sides one that I'm fixated on! Once the first chapter of this one is out, I'll try to consecutively update both fics :)
Summary: Crowley and Aziraphale spend some quality time together before and after work, Aziraphale learning some more about Crowleys backstory, as well as his body.
Crowley and Bee meet with Muriel at Crowleys gig of the night, and spend the evening together. Crowley gets paid his first paycheck from Aziraphale.
When Crowley woke up to an unfamiliar room and blankets that actually kept him from freezing over night, the initial shock and confusion had him bolting upright and glancing around the room frantically. He stared at the bookshelves and cluttered desk, misremembering where he had accidentally fallen asleep last night. It wasn’t until there was a knock at the door and the smell of waffles wafting through that all memories of yesterday evening came flooding back to him, hitting him like a truck.
“Good morning dear, I made breakfast, I didn’t know what you like so I thought you can’t go wrong with waffles and berries!” Aziraphale said cheerily as he stepped into the room. He placed the tray of food at the end of the bed, before looking at Crowley puzzled. “Are you alright my boy? You’re looking rather frazzled.”
“’m fine Aziraphale... jus’... woke up confused...” Crowley mumbled, trying to smooth his hair down. “Sorry for falling asleep, didn’t mean to stay the night.” When Crowley looked to his right, he noticed the un-slept-in half of the bed, and suddenly guilt gnawed at his chest.
“Oh nonsense, it was quite nice to have your company,” Aziraphale giggled.
Crowley shrugged and flopped back against the pillows, he would go back to sleep if he was in his own bed, but alas he wasn’t, so instead he peered up at the other man.
Aziraphale tutted, “Come and eat your breakfast dear,” he said, although he did silently agree that more sleep would be divine.
Crowley realised that even after his 2 meals yesterday, which was far more food than he was used to on the daily, his stomach was practically clawing at him for food, and the smell of the waffles did seem delicious. He didn’t want to waste them after Aziraphale had clearly put in so much effort for him.
He sat up and scooted to the end of the bed, where Aziraphale had perched. The waffles were a beautiful golden brown, with syrup pooling off of them and a litter of berries scattered on top. He took the cutlery Aziraphale had so graciously offered him and cut a piece, before biting it with a satisfied moan.
With his mouth still full, he stabbed another piece and held it up to Aziraphale, “Have some.”
The other man only scorned him lightly for not finishing his mouthful before speaking, before taking the piece Crowley had offered him into his own mouth and chewing. The two spent their morning eating the waffles together and occasionally feeding each other mouthfuls or some berries, before Aziraphale was gently dabbing at his own mouth with his handkerchief and then doing the same to Crowley, despite his protests.
“Do you have work today my dear?” Aziraphale asked as they finished off the waffles.
Crowley nodded “Mmph, yeah, not till 12 though.”
Aziraphale hummed in thought, “Perhaps we could talk some more, or I could show you around, since we didn't get the chance to yesterday.”
Crowley blushed at the memory, but nodded all the same. The two stayed in bed for a couple more moments, allowing Crowley’s food to settle before Aziraphale was encouraging him out of the warmth and comfort to go on a little tour of the bookshop.
Crowley had his arms wrapped around himself, his button down and jeans were doing little to keep him warm now that he had emerged from Aziraphale’s blankets. He hadn’t changed out of yesterday’s clothes before falling asleep, and he somewhat regretted not bringing at least a jumper.
“Pull this on,” Aziraphale chuckled, handing Crowley a cream, cable-knit jumper from his wardrobe, “It may be a bit big, but no matter, we wouldn’t want you freezing, would we dear?”
Crowley took it gratefully as his lips pulled into an awkward line that was supposed to be a smile, “Well aren’t you an angel,” he teased, before pulling the jumper over his head. It was, as Aziraphale had warned, big on Crowley. But Aziraphale secretly came to the conclusion that Crowley looked rather adorable in his jumper, with the sleeves covering his hands the way they did. The smaller man didn’t pay much attention to it, just rather grateful for the extra layer, and he did have to admit it was rather comfortable.
Aziraphale showed him the whole bookshop, lower and upper floor. The ground level contained the main bookshop, as well as Aziraphale’s office and the small living space that Crowley blushed at the sight of. The blankets laying over the back of the sofa that hadn’t been there the previous evening solved Crowley’s question as to where Aziraphale had slept last night, and the sting of guilt made itself known once more. Upstairs contained the bedroom that Crowley found himself missing as they passed the door. Aziraphale showed him the bathroom, the little kitchenette and dining area, as well as a mini reading nook that was tucked away out of sight, with a window and pillows and of course a reading light. Crowley found himself running his fingers over the spines of perfectly looked after books, reading the titles and not recognising a single one.
“Do you too, have an affinity for reading dear boy?” Aziraphale said softly, coming up behind him to peer at the books he was looking at.
“Ngk, not really, ‘less its sheet music, like plants though,” He glanced up at Aziraphale, who had propped his chin on the smaller mans shoulder.
Aziraphale simply smiled and nodded, “I may have some music books or plant guides you could borrow downstairs, help yourself should the need arise.”
Crowley nodded and thanked him, finding himself leaning into the other man and welcoming the arms that wrapped around his waist. Aziraphale pressed a gentle kiss to his shoulder that had Crowley’s face heating up and the tips of his ears burning red. He wasn’t used to this type of gentle touch, but he could sure get used to it if this was what came with their deal. He gasped softly as Aziraphale’s kisses, feather-light and innocent, climbed up his neck and found their ways to his cheek and lips. Aziraphale giggled and he squeezed Crowley’s waist gently, placing one more kiss on the tip of Crowley’s nose before pulling away.
The taller man checked his watch, before humming softly, “May I walk you to work dearest? We have about half an hour.”
“Need to go home first,” Crowley shrugged, shivering at the lack of contact, “Change my clothes and shit, don’t want to make you wait.”
“Oh nonsense, I don’t mind, honestly.”
Crowley shook his head, “I’ll meet you at the shop.”
Aziraphale nodded and gently took his hands, kissing the younger mans knuckles, before the two were making their ways to the front door and Crowley was walking down the street to his apartment.
Crowley managed to make it to his shift with about five minutes to spare. He’d changed his clothes and put his guitar on its stand, promising to practise as soon as he was home. He greeted Nina with a wave and pulled his apron on, hanging his sunglasses over the top hem. He began by cleaning up a few mugs from empty tables and taking orders. Aziraphale was sitting at a table in the corner, waiting for him as promised, but with how busy the coffee shop was currently, Crowley had no time to stop and chat.
About half an hour passed before the foot traffic was low enough that Aziraphale took his chance to join the relatively short queue and order his usual. Crowley had the drink ready just as he approached the counter, holding the cup out without meeting his eye.
“Thank you dear,” Aziraphale said softly, their fingers brushing as he took the cup.
Crowley only met his eyes when he saw Aziraphale put a £20 note in the tip jar.
“Aziraphale!” He hissed, “that’s too much.”
“Nonsense dear, its only £20,” Aziraphale giggled, taking Crowley’s hand that had been previously on the counter.
“Mmph,” Crowley said, eyes now trained on their joined hands.
“I’m going to go find a table, will you come to the bookshop after your shift?”
“Yeah... dinner?”
“What do you fancy?”
“Don’t mind.”
“Think on it, we’ll get whatever you like.”
Crowley nodded and took his hand back as Aziraphale made his way back to his table. Crowley started taking the next person’s order, and soon he was back in the swing of his shift.
“What was that about?” Nina asked Crowley once there was a break in customers.
“What was what about?”
“You and Mr Fell.”
Crowley glared at her, though the blush on his cheeks made it a lot less threatening than he intended. “It was nothing, just chatting.”
“You don’t chat Crowley.”
He huffed and turned away from her, ignoring Nina’s knowing look in favour of pretending to organise the fridge.
The end of his shift couldn’t come any slower, and once he was putting his sunglasses back on and hanging his apron up, Crowley was beyond exhausted. It was 6pm and he’d told Nina she could head home. Locking up gave him the opportunity to catch his thoughts; Aziraphale had left a few hours ago, and he couldn’t help thinking of the other man for the rest of his shift. Crowley found himself glancing towards the bookshop, catching Aziraphale’s eye once or twice, earning a big grin.
The musician wiped the tables and turned off all the lights, double checking everything before heading out and locking the door behind him. He made his way across the road to the bookshop, knocking on the door almost guiltily.
Aziraphale welcomed him in moments later, ushering Crowley into the shop and towards the back.
“Have you decided what we should get for dinner?” the bookseller asked softly, leading Crowley to a sofa, who simply shook his head.
He hadn’t thought about it since Aziraphale had said to earlier, and was regretting the pressure he’d put on himself now that he was sat down in Aziraphale’s home.
Aziraphale sat down beside him, keeping a couple feet distance between them. “Would you rather go out or eat in?”
“In... something quick, please.”
“How about I give you my phone and you can choose whatever you like? No pressure.” Aziraphale said softly, getting his phone from his waistcoat and holding it out.
Crowley took it slowly and curled into the corner of the sofa, scrolling through the food delivery app and seeing what there was to offer.
Aziraphale picked up a book that was on the coffee table, busying himself whilst Crowley found something for dinner. It wasn’t clear how much time had passed; Aziraphale only looked up once he felt Crowley tap him on the arm, the musician holding his phone out with a shy smile on his face.
Crowley allowed Aziraphale to pull him closer, the older man keeping an arm around his waist as he leant on his shoulder. Aziraphale hummed and pressed a kiss to the top of Crowley’s head, going through to add his own meal to the order before placing it for delivery. Crowley couldn’t help but curl into the others side, absorbing the warmth that Aziraphale’s embrace seemed to practically radiate with.
As they waited for food to arrive, Aziraphale asked about Crowley’s day, the musician telling him about the few memorable things that happened over the course of his shift. Crowley asked Aziraphale his own questions, learning about how the older man spent his afternoon when he wasn’t staring through the window of the coffee shop. He learnt about the book Aziraphale had been reading, the shelves he had organised, the conversations with customers that all ended in them leaving empty handed. He learnt about what Aziraphale was thinking, about where his mind had wandered as the evening drew closer.
“I thought about you a lot too,” Crowley said after Aziraphale told him about how he wished Crowley’s shift would end faster to give him an excuse to hold him again.
“Oh?” Crowley couldn’t ignore how Aziraphale’s hand had migrated from his waist to his thigh, gently petting his denim-clad skin. “Tell me more.”
The musician looked up at him, “just... general stuff,” he said quietly.
“Like? C’mon dear, I don’t judge.”
Crowley blushed and buried his face in Aziraphale’s shoulder, looking away from the bookseller. “Like... mmph... meeting people you work with, or what your parents would think, or uhm... like what people will see when we’re.. out...” Crowley swallowed, “and the thing we did yesterday.” He looked up, expecting to see some sort of hurt emotion on Aziraphale’s face, or something more disgusted, but Crowley was pleasantly surprised when all he was met with was a happy smile and red cheeks.
“What do you want people to see when we’re out?”
Oh, so that’s what they were talking about now.
“I dunno... something normal.”
“Normal is rather far-fetched with an agreement like ours dear,” Aziraphale said softly.
“Mmph... I know, just-“
Aziraphale pressed a kiss to his cheek, and then another to his forehead, and a final one to his lips. “We can try and do normal.”
Crowley nodded and tucked his head underneath Aziraphale’s chin, an action that was short lived as Aziraphale said: “Now about what happened yesterday...” the older man’s hand was still rubbing his thigh, his voice quiet as Crowley peered up at him.
The two gazed at each other, eyes locked as the musician tried to ignore Aziraphale’s hand on his thigh. Moments passed of simple staring and gentle one-sided touching, Crowley hesitating to rest his hands anywhere other than his lap.
A knock at the door caused Crowley to practically jump out of his skin, leaping away from Aziraphale before attempting to play it cool. He sat back against the sofa, watching as Aziraphale calmly stood from the sofa and answered the door, taking the food delivery and tipping the driver graciously.
As Aziraphale returned, Crowley pretended to be busy on his phone, only glancing up to meet Aziraphale’s eyes before darting back to his phone. Aziraphale only chuckled and pulled the food containers put of the bag and onto the coffee table, before leaning over and pecking Crowley’s cheek, mumbling “come eat,” against his skin.
Crowley nodded softly and slowly put his phone down, noting how Aziraphale remained close as he did so. The musician simply smiled up at him and leant forwards to pick up his food, watching as Aziraphale did the same. Curled into the corner of the sofa, Crowley opened his food and the cutlery that came with it and ate, noticing how Aziraphale left him alone for the time being. The two talked them participated in a one sided conversation, Aziraphale asking questions for Crowley to nod or shake his head to, the musician slowly unfurling and sitting closer to the other.
“Did I make you uncomfortable?”
Crowley looked away from his food to look at Aziraphale, “What?”
“Earlier, when the food arrived,” Aziraphale explained, “I was touching you and now you’re not coming very close, I just hope I haven’t over stepped your boundaries.”
“Oh,” Crowley almost whispered, “no, not uncomfortable, sorry, just uhm... different.” He haphazardly explained. “Not really used to it, but didn’t make me uncomfortable.”
Aziraphale let out a sigh of relief, placing his now empty food container down and turning to face Crowley properly. “How come it’s different?” He asked softly.
“ngk, haven’t had a... relationship for a long time, just hook-ups, nothing serious enough that there’s enough time for casual touching.”
Aziraphale nodded, “Do you prefer that? Hookups?”
“Not really, not most of the time anyway,” Crowley said softly, “I like the personal stuff, having someone look after me for once, I like it... uhm, when you hold me and touch me, all I thought about after you left...”
Aziraphale smiled softly and shuffled to sit closer to Crowley, holding an arm out to the younger man, an invitation which he less than hesitantly accepted. “May I continue?”
Crowley nodded and curled in close, finishing off the last of his food as Aziraphale wrapped his arm around his waist, continuing his gentle touches and kisses. He put his now empty food container on the table and allowed Aziraphale to pull him into his lap, smiling as he leant against the older man. Crowley couldn’t help but let his mind wander and Aziraphale continued his innocent touches, thinking about the other man’s hands all over him, under his clothes, weaved into his hair. Glancing up at Aziraphale, Crowley thought back to their agreement, and then to the burning sensation Aziraphale’s fingers now left on his body.
It wasn’t until Crowley felt the tingling sensation of Aziraphale’s hands on his inner thigh that he recognised his own arousal. He could feel himself leaning into the other man’s hold, wishing Aziraphale’s hand would touch him where he needed it most.
“Is this alright?” Aziraphale mumbled softly, smiling at Crowley’s near desperate nod. He allowed his hands to wander further in, cautiously noting Crowley’s reaction as he rested his hand on the younger mans groin. Earning verbal consent, Aziraphale carefully unzipped the fly of Crowley’s jeans, gently sliding his hand into the waistband of his boxers and palming the man carefully.
Crowley gasped softly at the feeling of Aziraphale’s soft hands on him, he keened, tucking his face into Aziraphale’s chest as the other continued palming him gently. The musician couldn’t help but allow his own hands to wander towards the fly of Aziraphale’s slacks, attempting to return the favour, however his hands were stopped short by Aziraphale’s free one, Crowley blushing as the other whispered: “Let me look after you.”
When Aziraphale’s fingers finally wrapped around his dick properly, Crowley let out a moan, hand reaching out to grip onto the older man’s arm. Aziraphale couldn’t help but smile as he watched Crowley’s eyes shut in pleasure, back arching in a gentle curve as he began pumping his hand, allowing him to bask in the long overdue pleasure he could supply.
Aziraphale pressed gentle kisses to Crowley’s cheeks, trailing his lips along the younger man’s jaw and to his neck, before pressing a final one to his shoulder and beginning the process once again. Crowley keened against him, hands fisting the sleeve of Aziraphale’s shirt as the movement on his cock sped up. The musician practically melted into Aziraphale’s hold, moans slipping past his lips in a tenor he didn’t know he was capable of.
“Angel!” He gasped when Aziraphale squeezed his shaft, the pet name slipping out before he could even stop himself. The older man simply grinned and pumped his hand faster causing a string of curses and more repeats of the accidental nickname to pour from Crowley’s lips, before he was babbling that he was close, cumming over his thighs and Aziraphale’s fingers with a deep shudder.
Crowley nestled into Aziraphale’s side as the older man ran his fingers through his hair, the two sitting in a comfortable silence as Crowley caught his breath. With cum drying quickly on his thighs, Crowley shifted in mild discomfort, before beginning to stand from his place on Aziraphale’s lap. The older man stopped him in his tracks, grabbing a tissue from the box on the coffee table and cleaning Crowley up before scooping him into his arms and standing from the sofa.
“Mmph-“ Crowley huffed, glancing up at him questioningly.
“Shall we get a bath dear boy?” Aziraphale smiled softly, pressing a kiss to Crowley’s forehead.
Earning a nod, Aziraphale carried Crowley upstairs and into the bathroom, carefully setting him on the sink counter to run a bath. He added bubble bath and lent a tray across the top, fetching various soaps and scrubs. He set the items on the tray before walking over and standing between Crowley’s legs.
Crowley undressed himself , kicking his jeans off and tugging them of when they got stuck on his ankles. He slowly pulled his shirt off too, sitting in his boxers as he peered up at Aziraphale. The other man in question grinned at the sight of Crowley now bare chest, before allowing Crowley to kick his boxers off before lifting him up and carrying him to the bath. Aziraphale set Crowley in the warm water, kneeling beside the tub allowing the musician to get comfortable. He took a bottle of body wash and pouring some onto a wash cloth, before beginning to wipe him down once gaining consent.
“I don’t need all this Angel...”
“Nonsense, aftercare after sex is necessary.”
“That was hardly sex...” Crowley mumbled, “and I don’t want to be wasting your water.”
“Oh hush, you never have to worry about that.”
Crowley could only blush and allow Aziraphale to clean his body, he turned to allow him to reach his back, relaxing under the other man’s gentle touches.
“This is beautiful,” Aziraphale said softly, running his fingers gently down Crowley’s back, where a tattoo of a red and black snake marked his skin.
“Thanks,” Crowley whispered, “got it for my 18th birthday... I’d like more... maybe on my arms.”
Aziraphale smiled and pressed a gentle kiss to the tattoo, “that would be lovely...”
After the bath, Crowley was wrapped in one of Aziraphale’s robes, sitting in front of the mirror and carefully towel drying his hair. Aziraphale sat on the bed behind him, watching the way Crowley’s hands expertly moved his hair into the position he liked. Crowley glanced at him through the mirror, eyes only catching for a moment before he was looking away again.
When he was satisfied with his hair, Crowley stood and crawled onto the bed with Aziraphale, leaning into his side once the position was offered. Aziraphale carefully placed a kiss to the top of his hair, holding Crowley close and keeping the musician warm. He leant back, laying against the pillows with Crowley’s head on his chest, the two simply cuddling atop the bedsheets. Aziraphale wrapped both arms around Crowley, pulling him closer in order to properly provide after-care cuddles.
“Mmph, can’t stay long,” Crowley mumbled, pressing his nose into Aziraphale’s shirt.
“No?”
“No... got stuff tonight, with Bee.”
Aziraphale hummed and nodded, “then we better make the most of it hm?”
Crowley smiled drowsily and curled in closer, peering up at Aziraphale through his eyelashes. The older man smiled and kissed his forehead, whispering sweet nothings until Crowley began to nod off. The musician fought to stay awake, but soon gave into the sleep that grappled him, finding comfort in the warm that Aziraphale provided.
Aziraphale let Crowley sleep for a little while, he wasn’t sure what time his plans with Bee were, but he assumed that with how fast he had fallen asleep, Crowley deserved that extra nap. He watched Crowley’s chest rise and fall with each breath, watched his lips part and eyelashes flutter gently, watched as a lock of hair fell from its place and into his eyes. Aziraphale gently brushed the hair from his eyes and pressed a kiss to his forehead, before laying back and enjoying the quiet closeness.
Crowley slept for 3 quarters of an hour, eyes fluttering open, before he sat upright in a panic, accidentally slapping Aziraphale’s chest.
“Ngk, sorry, wha’s time?”
“About 9:30, you didn’t sleep too long.”
Crowley nodded and huffed, looking down at where Aziraphale was stilling laying.
“What time are you meeting Bee?” Aziraphale queried.
“Uhm.... bout 10... better get going,” Crowley mumbled. He watched as Aziraphale finally sat up, the older man pressing a kiss to his forehead.
“Better get dressed then my dear, i'll walk you out.”
As promised, Crowley did pick up his guitar and practise once he was home, he made sure it was properly tuned and practised a couple of chords, before Bee was texting him that they were outside and he had to pack up to go and meet them. He practically floated down the stairs that lead to the pavement, guitar slung over his shoulder as he greeted Bee.
“Ready?” they asked, eyeing Crowley’s restless hands. The musician was flexing his fingers quickly and shaking his hands at his sides.
“Yeah, let’s go,” Crowley said, continuing to stim.
Bee only hummed and started walking, hands buried in their pockets as Crowley trailed behind. They waited awhile before finally saying:
“You good? You haven’t stopped-“ they mimicked his hand movements, -“you’re not nervous are you? You’ve performed here loads.”
“Ngk, s’nothing, not nervous.”
Bee nodded slowly, not convinced, but dropped the subject and continued the walk in silence. The two approached the bar that both had seen many times, it was one of Crowley’s more regular gigs, most people that worked there knew him, and at least he could score a free drink every now and then. Bee held the door open as Crowley stepped inside, throwing a 2 finger salute to the girl working the bar, she smiled back at him with a nod, and Crowley left Bee to go and set up.
Setting up was always his favourite bit, the regulars would come and sit nearer the front to chat and keep him company, sometimes receiving certain requests or that he come and join them for drinks once he was done (which he usually declined). His favourite regular by far was a young person who went by the name Muriel, the first time he’d met them they had been dragged to the bar by some co-workers and promptly left at the table whilst they all went to the bar to get Shitfaced. They had watched silently, but always smiled and waved whenever Crowley caught their eye or in-between songs. It took a couple more nights until the two spoke, Muriel had approached Crowley as he was packing up and introduced themself. Now, whenever Crowley worked here, Muriel was always the first face he looked for in the crowd of tables.
“Hiya Mr Crowley,” they said, sidling up next to him.
Crowley grinned as he out his guitar down, “Hello Muriel, alone again tonight?”
They nodded somewhat enthusiastically, before hopping up to set on the edge of the stage. They kicked their feet lightly and the two made idle chatter as Crowley finished setting up. Muriel told Crowley all about work and what they’d been up to, whilst Crowley nodded long and occasionally let slip a few details of his own. The two continued talking until it was time for Crowley’s set to start, and a small crowd had formed to listen to their regularly scheduled musician.
Crowley felt in his element in the bar, he had people who actually enjoyed listening to him, he felt comfortable to be more open and himself. Having friends only made the experience so much better, he would never trade the memories he’d made here with anything else. He played a couple of songs from his normal set before taking a handful of suggestions, ranging from the classics to some he had to Google sheet music for; no one cared how well he played, they just enjoyed how personal it was, and everyone had fun.
It was almost midnight when he finally finished, wiping the sweat from his forehead and hopping from the stage to join Bee at the bar. A cold glass of beer had been passed his way, which he accepted gratefully as he leant against the counter. Muriel approached the two slowly, before taking a seat on the other side of Crowley.
“Just a j20 Bee,” they half-shouted over the music now playing over the speakers.
Bee nodded, “you got it.”
A j20 spritz was soon slid to the sober of the three, and Muriel accepted it eagerly, clinking the bottle with Crowley’s glass before sipping at the drink. The three participated in half-drunk chatter as Crowley worked off the adrenaline from his set.
No one kept track of how much time passed, only leaving when Muriel’s yawns became frequent, Crowley offering his apartment for the night. With Bee leaning on his shoulder, Crowley led the way home, keeping up the soft chatter between himself and Muriel, more to keep them awake and aware than anything.
He gave Muriel his keys once they’d reached the steps leading to the front door of the building, allowing himself a free hand to help Bee up the stairs and then to the next set that led to his apartment. Once inside, Crowley dumped his friend onto the bed, sighing when they groaned and swaddled themself with his blankets.
“Let me get you some clothes and set up the sofa Muriel...” he said quietly, “Could you get Bee some water? Cups are in the top right cupboard.”
Muriel nodded and did as they were requested as Crowley found some clean pyjamas for them to borrow and sorted out the sofa. The two got settled for bed, Muriel offering to take the sofa and Crowley scooting in next to Bee, who had already taken up three quarters of the bed.
“Bee move your ass,” Crowley hissed, earning a simple groan as they shuffled to give him more space.
He laid back and ignored Bee as they rolled over to face him, pulling up his phone to check if the bar had sent him the money from todays gig. When he opened the app, his total was more than he’d expected, confused, Crowley went to check the tab which told him any transfers had been made to and from his account.
“Shit...” he mumbled, causing Bee to perk up and nosily peer at his phone.
They snorted and grinned, “You musta done good today for him to pay you that much, gabe didn’t even pay me £350 our first day together.” Crowley didn’t meet their eye, still staring at Aziraphale’s name on his screen. “what’dya get up to anyway?”
“We didn’t.. fuck or anything,” Crowley whispered, “but we didn’t... keep out hands to ourselves. And he gave me a bath after... and let me nap on him... it was nice...”
Bee laughed loudly, earning a long ‘shhh’ from Crowley, and then rolled to lay their arm over his chest, “Well done Crowley,” they slurred, before dozing off without a moments pause. Crowley sighed and put his phone down, before pulling a blanket around Bee properly, pressing a soft kiss to his best friends forehead, and closing his eyes to sleep. He didn’t miss how they curled in closer, and sighed contently as the two drifted off.
Have you flipped the tumblr switch to not get scraped for AI-theft today?
It’s in the account settings. If in the app do the following:
1. Go to your blog (tiny human symbol)
2. Go to account settings (tiny cogwheel on the top right).
3. Scroll down to and hit Visibility (the second option from the end)
4. Activate the last oft the three switches (depending on your previous settings it may already be activated (symbol sky blue with switch to the right)
If you have several blogs you need to do it for each one.
Summary: Crowley realises he is struggling for money more than he thought and consults his best friend, who hooks him up with a sugar daddy.
(I hope this is okay, it's my first time posting soemthing so long on here! Enjoy the first chapter :3)
Crowley, simply put, was broke. A struggling musician with an unhealthy obsession with his plants and parents that refused to acknowledge his existence, he was living pay check to pay check, saving what little he had left in the event of a bad gig or a broken guitar string.
When he wasn’t busking in tube station entryways or performing in empty bars, he was working in the coffee shop a couple of streets from his apartment. The shop was small but had decent foot traffic and, being in Soho, the tips were plentiful. He had gotten used to the regulars, memorising their orders so the drinks were ready to go before the customer had even stepped foot through the doors. Crowley was charming to all of the customers, which helped him a great deal in the tip department, but there was a particular customer that, no matter his mood, always brought a smile upon the barristers face, and never failed to make him chuckle. He had spotted said customer exiting his bookshop across the road, and had his drink ready for when he undoubtedly stepped foot into the shop.
“Good morning Mr Fell,” Nina, the Coffee shops owner, called from behind the counter as Crowley added the finishing touches to Mr Fell's drink.
“Good morning Nina,” the man replied cheerily as he made his way to where Crowley was standing, “and Good morning my dear.”
“Mornin’ Mr Fell, one hot chocolate for you, extra marshmallows,” Crowley smiled, sliding the drink over.
“Oh marvellous,” Mr Fell beamed, picking up his drink and tapping his debit card to the reader. He took a sip and hummed contently, “perfect as always, thank you Dear.”
Crowley couldn’t help but rake his eyes over Mr Fell. The man was wearing his usual shirt and waistcoat, with his silly tartan bow tie and long coat. He didn’t appear to be much older than Crowley, who had recently turned 28, his hair was a natural near-white, and the lines around his eyes and mouth showed years of cheerful grins and happy smiles.
As he met Mr Fells eyes, the man smiled at him, before going through his wallet and sticking a £10 note into the tip jar. They stared at each other momentarily, before Mr Fell dipped his head.
“Thank you dear,” he said softly, before going and sitting in a booth, bringing his laptop out and working silently.
Crowley had gone back to his apartment after his shift. The place was dingy, with rickety stairs and chipping paint at every turn. He left his bag by the door after clicking it closed, kicking his shoes off and slumping onto the couch with a sigh. He stared at his guitar on its stand across the room, groaning at the very idea of performing tonight, but convinced himself that the show must go on, no matter how much he wanted to curl up in bed and sleep.
By 10pm he was at the same pub he spent every other night in, setting up a stool and doing sound check. He hummed softly as he strummed the strings a few times, before sitting and tapping the mic to gather the limited audience’s attention.
“Hey guys, uh, Crowley back again, I take requests if anyone wants to hear anything, enjoy,” he said awkwardly into the mic. No matter how many times he did this same routine, the awkwardness that came with the job never seemed to disappear, it was like a package deal.
He played a couple of songs, taking a few requests from one person in the crowd who seemed to be the only one actually paying attention to him, other than his personal cheerleader who sat at the bar. He made his way over after collecting the few tips he’d received and sat beside his best friend.
“Well done, I loved the third one,” Bee said, sliding a drink over to him.
“Yeah, can’t say the same about everyone else here,” he said, taking an uninterested sip, before grimacing, “What is this?”
“G&T,” Bee shrugged, “I’ll have it if you don’t want it.”
“Never said that,” Crowley said defensively, taking another sip of his drink.
Bee always turned up to each of his shows, occasionally buying him a drink to take the edge off. They’d known each other for a long time, Bee had always encouraged him to pursue his passions, and he had always returned the favour.
“How was work?” They asked.
“Eh, work, got decent tips though.”
“Enough to afford a better place?”
Crowley gave them a deadpan look, “No, doubt that’ll be happening any time soon, stop bringing it up.”
Bee shrugged and took a sip of their own drink, “wouldn’t be a problem if you...” they trailed off.
“No, shut up, not happening,” he said through gritted teeth. Bee held their hands up in defence.
Crowley groaned and stood up, finishing his drink. He made some excuse about having to water his plants and made his leave, with Bee laughing at his awkward departure.
The musician got home and left his guitar and bag on the couch before trudging to the bathroom to remove the smudged eyeliner he had worn for the show. He splashed some water on his face and made his way to bed, flopping down and neglecting to change out of his jeans in favour of falling asleep at that very second.
The next morning was a Saturday, and Crowley had the day off. He rolled out of bed at 11am, finally changing into more comfortable clothes and leaving the ones from last night in a pile on the floor. His thin blanket had done little to keep him warm during the night, and now all he felt like doing was taking a lovely warm shower and making some French toast.
He went to the bathroom and started the shower, waiting for it to heat up and found himself standing there for far too long. Giving up on the shower, he went to the kitchenette to find some bread and butter. He was once again disappointed at what he found: no butter and half a loaf of mouldy bread.
Crowley hated himself for what he did next, pulling out his phone and opening Bee’s contact.
Crowley
Remember what we spoke about last night?
The thing I refused.
Bee 🐝
Yeasssss?
Second thoughts????
Crowley
Maybe...
Bee 🐝
What pushed u over the edge?
Crowley
Mouldy bread and a cold shower.
Bee 🐝
I’ll give Gabe ur number, he’ll be delighted to find someone 4 u
Crowley
Great.
Gabriel, or Gabe, was Bee’s Partner, or more specifically, their sugar daddy. Bee used the term lightly, and Crowley was used to their dynamic, he never judged Bee and their way of income wouldn’t change that. He had met Gabe a few times, he was a nice man, and looked after Bee well, always treating them to dinner whenever they asked.
Crowley never thought his desperation would get this far, but he was slowly getting more helpless and his growling stomach would thank him, even if it meant sacrificing his dignity.
A message from an unknown number popped up on his phone, and he hesitated before opening it.
Unknown number
Hello Crowley, this is Gabriel, Bee said you were interested and gave me your number to have a chat? Wanna meet up at the park and you can meet a friend of mine. I’ll bring Bee with me.
Crowley
Mm, yeah, when and where?
Gabriel 💷
St.james’ at 4 work for you?
Crowley
Yeah sounds good, see you then.
Crowley groaned and pocketed his phone, before heading to his closet and finding a decent shirt and pair of jeans to change into. He got changed, applying a little bit of makeup, just eyeliner and concealer, and tried to make his hair look at least a little bit more like he hadn’t just rolled out of bed. He slid his sunglasses onto his face and grabbed his guitar. Crowley knew if would take a little while to get to the park, but he still had a couple of hours until their meeting time, but there was nothing to do here and he always liked a walk anyway.
He left his apartment and made his way through the city towards St James’s Park and found a spot beneath a tree to bring his guitar from its case and practise a few chords.
A couple of hours passed before he received a text from Bee asking where he was. He simply responded with a photo of the pop-up coffee cart he was opposite and waited for them to arrive.
“Crowley!” He lifted his head when he heard Bee call his name.
They were holding Gabe’s hand and dragging the man along with them. Crowley stood and put his guitar away in its case, before carefully leaning it against the tree he was underneath.
Gabriel extended his hand that wasn’t clutching Bee’s to Crowley and the musician shook it awkwardly. He tried to look behind Gabe, as though the friend he had told him about was somehow lurking behind him, yet to be seen.
Gabe chuckled and withdrew his hand from Bee, much to their disappointment. “My friend will be here in a moment, how does coffee sound whilst we wait?”
“Oh I cant... afford...”
Crowley was shocked when Gabe laughed loudly, before kissing Bee on the head and saying “Your friend is funny Dear,” he said with a smile, “I’ll buy you a coffee Crowley.”
Crowley scowled to hide his embarrassment before telling Gabriel his coffee order: black with as many sugars as the place allowed. The older man went to buy the three of them Coffee whilst Bee stood with Crowley so the two of them could talk.
“Is it weird?” Crowley started with.
“Is what weird?”
“Having a sugar daddy, does it not feel... strange?."
Bee looked at Gabe softly, who was waiting for the coffee, “It does at first, I felt guilty when Gabe and I were first.. yknow, but I got used to it. I still apologise every now and then, but he’s so sweet, he always makes me feel better when I feel guilty.
“Yknow, this sort of thing doesn’t always have to be sex, Gabriel’s paid me for just hanging out with him, you just need to discuss everything when it all starts, and set your boundaries.”
Crowley nodded a little. He remembered when Bee had first met Gabriel and they had refused to spend any of the money Gabe had given them out of pure guilt. It wasn’t until Gabriel took them out shopping that they actually spent it. He remembered how Bee had bought him the same pair of sunglasses he still wore to this day, and how happy they’d been after spending the day with Gabe. The two had shared their first kiss outside of the bedroom that day, and Bee was on the moon for many days after.
“Talk to me, talk to Gabriel if you need to, we’ll both help you with whatever decisions or whatever you might need,” Bee said softly, patting him on the shoulder.
Gabe returned with everyone’s coffees and the three of them sat on the ground together making small discussion.
It wasn’t until Gabe interrupted his own sentence that the conversation came to a halt.
“Aziraphale! Glad you’re here my friend,” the man grinned, causing Crowley to look up to see who he was talking to.
“Hello Gabriel, Bee, I am sorry I’m late,” the other man, Aziraphale, said as he stood above the group. He turned to Crowley and smiled a very charming smile. “Hello Dear, I wasn’t expecting to see your face.”
Crowley stared dumbstruck at the man in front of him, a man whom he recognised far too well. When he finally managed to find his words, all he could force himself to say was “ngh... uh, neither...”
Aziraphale smiled and carefully sat with the rest of the group, turning to Gabriel, who spoke before anyone else could. “You know each other?”
Aziraphale nodded, “Oh yes, this young man serves me almost every day at that darling coffee shop I told you about.”
It was at that moment that the man he knew as Mr Fell didn’t even know his name, despite the name tag he had pinned to his apron every day.
“Oh marvellous!” Gabriel said excitedly, “Well that may make things easier for you both then, Crowley here is looking for a sugar daddy, I knew you two would be a perfect match.”
Aziraphale beamed and turned to Crowley, “Yes I think we might just be,” he giggled, “how about we all go to dinner? And talk there? Then perhaps Mr Crowley and I can discuss this further.”
Crowley nodded numbly and Gabriel stood, pulling Bee up with him. He called a car for the four of them after the 2 older men had decided where to eat, Bee sat practically on Gabe’s lap in the car, the both of them chatting idly between them and leaving the other two to awkwardly make conversation.
“When Gabriel said he had a potential client for me, I wasn’t expecting to see my Barista,” Aziraphale said after a few moments of sitting in silence.
Crowley refused to meet his eyes and didn’t reply. Aziraphale cleared his throat awkwardly and continued.
“I’m sorry if this is awkward for you, we don’t have to go through with it if you’re uncomfortable, I won’t be offended.”
Crowley finally lifted his head but didn’t look him in the eyes, “ngk- Mr Fell, I don’t... sorry, I’m actually rather glad that it’s you, I just feel embarrassed,” he confessed. “This is new to me, so I’m a bit... overwhelmed.”
Aziraphale’s gaze softened and he gently took Crowley’s hand in his own, “It’s okay my dear... we can discuss everything over dinner and you don’t even have to decide then, we’ll go at your pace and I’ll be sure to communicate properly, as long as you promise to do the same.”
Crowley finally lifted his eyes to look at him and smiled, “okay...” he said quietly, before pausing momentarily and saying, “...you’re paying for dinner right? Because there’s no way I can affor-“
Aziraphale cut him off with a laugh, “Yes dear! Of course I’m paying for dinner.”
Crowley nodded and visibly relaxed, sitting back in his seat. He glanced down at where his hand was still held in Aziraphale’s and slowly took it back, shooting the man an apologetic smile before folding his hands in his own lap.
The restaurant was much more posh than Crowley was used to, but by the way the other 3 acted, and how the staff talked to Gabriel, he assumed they were regulars here, and suddenly felt very out of place.
Aziraphale was in his normal attire of shirt and bow tie, Gabriel had dressed in almost all white, he looked handsome and expensive, and even Bee seemed to fit in, their albeit alternative style still seemed to blend in well to the atmosphere of the room, and Crowley stuck out like a sore thumb.
The four were led to a booth, and Crowley took this opportunity to hide his dishevelled self as far from public view as possible. Aziraphale sat next to him with the couple opposite, and Bee sat back as Gabriel picked up the menu.
“Are you alright if I order for you my bumblebee?” Gabriel asked Bee softly, putting an arm around them. They nodded and picked up the desert menu, before suggesting brownies and ice cream for desert, which Gabe agreed to.
“What would you like Dear?” Aziraphale said, breaking Crowley from staring at the couple ahead of him.
“Uh, whatever’s cheapest is fine, ‘m not picky,” he mumbled, shrinking back into himself.
“Nonsense, there must be something on here that takes your fancy,” Aziraphale proclaimed, leaning over to show Crowley the menu. “Ooh the steak sounds lovely, or even the chicken sounds delightful, I’m going to get some sushi, does anything sound good to you?”
“Mr Fell all I’ve eaten in the past few weeks is packet Mac and Cheese, literally anything sounds good,” Crowley said bluntly, before blushing and looking away.
Aziraphale simply smiled softly and nodded, “How about I pick something for you and you can tell me if you like it or not?”
Crowley looked up at him and nodded, uttering a small ‘sounds good’. Aziraphale grinned, clearly delighted and listed off a few things, all of which Crowley agreed to, although slightly hesitantly. As Aziraphale called over the waitress to place their orders, Bee leaned over the table and plucked Crowley’s sunglasses from his face.
“We’re inside Crowley, table manners,” the scorned playfully, ignoring his protest.
“You say that like you didn’t used to put your feet up on the table when we would go out,” he bit back, though not a hint of aggression was present in his tone. He took his glasses back, but folded them on the table.
Gabe shot Bee a look to which they rolled their eyes at, “I don’t do it anymore,” they mumbled, and the others at the table laughed.
As the table waited for their food to arrive, they discussed Bee and Gabe’s contract, so Crowley would be informed on what sort of thing to expect should he and Aziraphale go ahead with the dynamic.
The food, when it arrived, was delightful, and Crowley enjoyed it thoroughly. He tried not to shovel his food down too quickly, but his rumbling belly tried to convince him to do otherwise. He’d gotten about halfway through his meal when he realised eating so much food after eating very little for so long was probably not the best idea, and the nauseating feeling that accompanied his full stomach made him halt mid fork-full.
“Are you alright dear?” Aziraphale said softly, and Crowley only nodded.
The musician reached for his drink and finished the glass of OJ he’d ordered. He sat back, allowing his food to settle as he wished the nausea to dissipate. He’d never forgive himself if he’d forced a stranger he hardly knew to pay for a large and expensive meal just for him to not finish it. Deciding to distract himself, he initiated conversation.
“So you would pay me for... well sex?” He clarified.
“Yes dear, and other things, like... spending the day awith me, or running errands, attending parties,” Aziraphale said softly, “I’d never make you do anything you’re uncomfortable with of course, but you need the money... and I like the company, its a win-win situation honestly.”
Crowley smiled and nodded, taking a bite of his food now that his stomach had settled slightly. He couldn’t help but hum in delight at the thought of being able to afford somewhere nicer to live, and of course, spending time with a handsome man for more than 2 minutes a day would be a bonus. He shifted his weight slightly and found himself leaning closer to Aziraphale. The other man cautiously rested his hand upon Crowley’s knee, letting out a questioning hum.
“’ Guess it wouldn’t... hurt to try,” Crowley reasoned, mostly with himself, but he didn’t find himself recoiling from the man’s affectionate touch.
“After dinner,” Aziraphale started, “we should head back to mine, and discuss this further, does that sound good?”
Crowley nodded and smiled up at him, “sounds perfect."
As promised, after dinner Aziraphale ordered Crowley and himself an Uber back to his bookshop. They both headed inside and Aziraphale locked the door behind them. He lead the younger man to the couch and offered him some coffee, of which Crowley accepted gratefully. The two sat drinking their beverages and discussing the terms of their newfound agreement.
They came to the conclusion that Crowley would come to his bookshop on his days off from work, and they would spend the day together, whether that be simply keeping Aziraphale company whilst he worked, or making him tea as he read. They agreed that sex would not be a necessity, but neither were opposed to the idea. Aziraphale mentioned during their talk that, at any parties he and Crowley may attend together (as part of work of course), that ‘pda’ may be necessary, but never forced, and Crowley seemed enthusiastic at the idea.
“How do I address you?” Aziraphale said as they drew to the end of the conversation.
“m? Oh, Crowley’s fine, none of that ‘Mr’ bullshit, pet names are cool too I guess, he/him whatever.”
“Well then that works fine my Dear, as for you, I’d rather you called me Aziraphale than ‘Mr Fell’, far too proper for me, and of course any other nicknames you see fit, just not the D word...”
Crowley grinned at that, “What? Daddy?” He laughed when Aziraphale cringed, “Ironic,” he snorted, “I’ll think of something for you.”
“Marvellous.”
The two talked some more, about everything and nothing at the same time. Crowley talked about his plants and Aziraphale listened with a fond smile on his face, in return talking about his books and other hobbies. The two found themselves laughing about god knows what, and soon Crowley was half on top of Aziraphale, the older man’s arm around his waist comfortably.
Crowley giggled, much to his distaste, and curled in closer to Aziraphale until their noses were nearly touching and the only comfortable position for his hands were the man’s chest. He felt Aziraphale squeeze his hip affectionately, the conversation fizzing into silence as they stared at each other, breaths mingling in a dance of pure sexual attraction.
Before either of them could speak, Aziraphale’s hands and slid up Crowley’ shirt, ghosting over his skin in delicate, flittering touches. Crowley’s own hands had founds their ways to Aziraphale’s belt, before they were both crashing their lips together in a frenzied kiss of passion and need.
Crowley quickly moved to unbuckle Aziraphale’s belt, pulling away from the kiss momentarily to focus on what he was doing. He managed to get it open before Aziraphale was stilling his hands, and he froze, wondering if he’d gone too far.
“You don’t have to do that Darling- if you don’t want to...” he said softly. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to go further with Crowley, he just didn’t want Crowley to feel pressured after they’d only just discussed their terms, especially after he’d bought him dinner earlier.
“I want to,” Crowley blurted, squeezing Aziraphale’s hand, “you have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” he confessed.
Aziraphale smiled and pressed a kiss to his temple, before uttering softly, “be my guest then dear boy.”
Crowley grinned and hastily unbuttoned and unzipped Aziraphale’s slacks, the older man lifting his hips so Crowley could pull the trousers down to his ankles. He ran his hands up Aziraphale’s thighs, squeezing the flesh and admiring the sight before him. The musician leant down to press kisses to the man’s thighs, worshipping each as thought they belonged to an angel. He trailed his kisses up as his hands followed suit, toying at the waistband of white briefs that hid a rather large monstrosity he couldn’t wait to get his lips around.
Crowley shuffled down to be kneeling on the floor, accepting the cushion that Aziraphale passed him to settle under his knees. The older man ran a hand through Crowley’s hair and mussed the strands slightly, his pale fingers lost in the sea of red. Crowley delicately pulled Aziraphale from his briefs, marvelling over the weight in his hand. He couldn’t help but stare, but a light encouraging tug at his hair broke him from his awestruck trance in order to slowly kiss up Aziraphale’s hardening dick.
Kissing the tip, Crowley looked up at Aziraphale through his eyelashes and slowly took him in his mouth. He bobbed his head slowly, squeezing Aziraphale’s thighs affectionately. The man above him groaned in pleasure as Crowley worked, Aziraphale tried to keep his hands gentle on the musicians hair, but Crowley would be lying if he said he didn’t like the idea of Aziraphale pulling his hair properly. The weight of Aziraphale’s prick was heavy on his tongue, swallowing around it he tried to take him as far as his throat would allow him.
Crowley wouldn’t say he was inexperienced as he would say ‘out of practise’. The last time he had a long term boyfriend was in his earlier 20’s, and he hadn’t really hooked up with many men since his last relationship. Even when he did, the deed was quick, either a hand job or a quick fuck and he was out of there, there was no grace or romance about it, just something to satisfy both parties. His deep throating abilities were hardly what they used to be, but Crowley was certain, especially with a cock as big as Aziraphale’s, he’d build up to it again in time.
He pulled off of Aziraphale and jerked him off slowly, he gently kissed the tip and took him in his mouth once more. Aziraphale was bucking into his mouth as Crowley forced his head down as far as he could, and he gagged slightly as the head hit the back of his throat. Aziraphale tried to utter an apology, but Crowley simply squeezed his thigh in silent assurance that he was fine. He could feel Aziraphale practically melt in his hands as he continued his gentle assault, pre-cum leaking from his tip and staining Crowley’s tongue. The salty taste was almost foreign in his mouth, but he found himself swallowing it down as though he was starving for more.
When Aziraphale reached his climax his grip on Crowley’s hair tightened. He gave no warning as he came down Crowley’s throat, the musician choking momentarily in the process. He pulled off, swallowing and awkwardly wiping his mouth, before laughing softly.
“Warn a guy next time,” he teased.
“Sorry Darling...” Aziraphale mumbled sheepishly, gently petting his now completely messed up hair. He gently pulled Crowley up into his lap and held the man close, putting himself away in the process. Crowley rested his head on Aziraphale’s chest and closed his eyes, ignoring the aching between his own legs in favour of post-orgasm cuddles.
“How about we get a shower and continue our conversation in bed?” Aziraphale hummed softly, stroking his hair. Crowley simply nodded and allowed Aziraphale to scoop him into his arms and take him to bed.
the reason your story feels predictable is because you wrote it
predictability isn't inherently bad
you can always become a better writer, so don't stress too much about whether or not you're 'good enough' at this moment in time. keep writing and eventually you'll get there
and always remember that your skill doesn't determine whether or not your writing is worth anything. the second you put words on a paper it's significant and important. no matter what it is about or how good you think it is
same goes for calling yourself a writer. you are a writer because you write! not because of what you write or how much engagement your stories receive
it's easy to compare yourself to other writers, but you cannot ever mimic another writer's technique or style because we're all walking a different path, none of which is less valid than the other
back-up your documents and be wary of placeholder names
and save your documents. sometimes we forget
you will not remember that story idea tomorrow. write it down
I know it's been a while but I've been busy with exams and stuff lately, which are nearly finished now, so I'll have plenty of writing time ahead ^^
I'm currently brainstorming new ideas for chapters whilst working on two books at a time, so I'll be very busy over the next few weeks, and hopefully there will be alot of updates on here :D
