Hi! Can I make a request for a Crowley self-proclaimed father for the reader (aka Yuu)? (The reader got to the NRC before all the events at the age of 11 (roughly) and Crowley just decided to take him in.) Yes, he's a silly bird, but I think he'd be a caring silly bird. Can we get the characters' reactions to this discovery? Or some sort of domestic moment with him? (Like she gets into NRC and he just gets hyper-aware because "his little chick is so delicate and fragile, now goes to a college full of rude guys" and "kids grow up so fast 😭😭"
CROWLEY AND READER
Where you came to NRC as a child, and he raised you, becoming your father.
Short scenarios about how Crowley would act having become your self-proclaimed father <3
maybe you're interested too in this angst where you're crowley's child, where you died during your overblot and he rebuilts you like a machine...
I. THE LITTLE CHICK.
The first time Crowley found you—an eleven-year-old child standing in the middle of the Mirror Chamber, wide-eyed and trembling—he had not, in fact, planned to take you in.
In his words:
“A mere... administrative mishap! A blip in magical mirror logistics! Nothing beyond the most slightly unfortunate cosmic coincidence!”
But something about the way you had clung to the hem of his cloak—small, shaking fingers smudged with ash—had lodged somewhere in the soft sentimental cavern of his otherwise overinflated heart.
So, he’d taken you in.
Temporarily.
Except, heh, it wasn’t temporary.
He didn’t notice the shift until much later.
Not until he spent an entire day building you a makeshift bunk-bed, or the time he stitched feathers into your blanket “so you’ll feel safe while I’m away.”
Not until you fell asleep on his couch and he instinctively put a blanket over your shoulders and whispered, “My poor little chick…”
And now, years later, you're sixteen.
Standing in the main hall.
In the ceremonial robes.
“I GOT IN!”
“YES, I CAN SEE THAT, BUT—BUT—!!”
Crowley is absolutely losing it.
II. DAY ONE.
“Don’t slouch! Shoulders back! You’ll look more confident—NO, NOT TOO CONFIDENT—”
You groan.
“Crowley…”
“AHEM. Father, if you please. And I’m simply making sure you’re not eaten alive by the ravenous beasts roaming these halls!”
Crowley adjusts the edge of your collar for the third time.
“You’re so delicate! So small! So baby chick!”
“I’m an adult now ” you mutter.
“Trein is an adult too, and you're still a baby. That doesn’t count!”
You're on the way to orientation. And Crowley— bouncing with every frantic step—has not stopped adjusting, fussing, or sniffling since you left.
“You’ll write every day, yes?”
“You live here. It’s a five-minute walk, Crowley.”
“And you’ll eat three meals? And no fighting with those delinquent first-years—”
“You’re the one who let them in!”
Several students are already whispering.
"Isn't that the headmage?"
"Wait, did he just call them 'my child'??"
"That's gotta be a metaphor, right?"
But you don’t answer.
You just tug Crowley's gloved hand.
“It’s okay, Dad, I’m ready.”
He freezes.
Then his mask shudders—and he breaks into a wail.
“THEY CALLED ME DAD 😭😭”
III. WORDS SPREAD FAST (Too Fast)
By the time lunch rolls around, everyone knows.
You walk into the cafeteria with a tray and is immediately greeted with:
Ace: “Sooo, how’s your dad? Did he make you a lunch box? Bet it has feathers on it.”Deuce: “Wait, for real? Crowley’s your actual father?! Like—is this legal??”Cater: “This is WILD. Okay, but like—do you call him ‘Dad' in private?”Trey: “Well, that explains a lot. You do carry yourself with a certain flair.”Riddle: “Does this mean you have diplomatic immunity?!”
You groan.
“It’s not like that! He just… he raised me, okay?”
There’s a beat of silence.
Then Deuce my sweet boy, blinks.
“So… he really took care of you? Like, bedtime stories and snacks and all that?”
“…Yeah. He even makes pancakes on test days.”
They fidget.
“With little powdered sugar stars. Says they bring luck.”
The table falls into stunned silence. Then Ace practically chokes.
“NO WAY. CROWLEY? THAT DRAMA BIRD??”
IV. PARENTAL SUPERVISION NEEDED.
Crowley starts popping up everywhere.
Every class. Every break. Every time you get into mild trouble.
Professor Crewel: “And then we mix the potion—”Crowley: (from the back row) “Careful, my child's hair is highly flammable!!”
Professor Trein: “Any volunteers to recite today’s lesson—”Crowley: (lifting your hand) “They’re very literate. Reads three books a week. Has been reading since the age of four—”
Vargas: “Alright, time for endurance drills—”Crowley: “NOooOOoOOOOO!!! My precious hatchling has brittle ankles!!”
You, from across the track: “I DO NOT!!”
V. A QUIET NIGHT. (And the Feather Blanket)
After a long day of trying to survive combat practice and Ace’s teasing, you stumble back into Crowley’s office.
He’s in his lounge chair, reading a dusty tome.
“…Rough day, little chick?” he says.
You don’t answer.
Just walk over and curl up beside him on the couch—like you did when you were eleven and the world was strange and terrifying.
Crowley doesn’t ask. He just puts down the book.
Pulls the blanket over your shoulders.
The same one he made years ago.
Black with bits of blue feathers.
He lets you rest your head on his shoulder.
“…You’re doing well, you know,” he murmurs. “Far better than anyone gives you credit for.”
You sniffle.
“Even when I lose alchemy lab points and forget my ingredients in alchemy class?”
“Especially then,” he says proudly. “True greatness lies in flammable resilience.”
He card fingers through your hair, gentle and quiet.
“…Thanks, Dad.”
“…Of course, my dear.”
“You’re my greatest mistake, you know.”
VI. BONUS. Crowley telling them you were raised by him.
Lilia: “Fufu~ So you are raising one of your own! I had my suspicions, you know. They even have your flair for dramatics!”
Sebek: “UNACCEPTABLE. HOW DARE YOU—wait. You made them pancakes? ...Can I have some?”
Leona: “Explains why they’re just as noisy as you. Ugh.”
Azul: “Did you sign a parental contract? Because if not, I have documents—”
Rook: “What a delightful turn! A father’s devotion—it sings!”
Vil: “Honestly, they’re much more well-adjusted than I’d expect from being raised by you. I’m impressed.”
Jade: “How heartwarming. Truly, Headmage, you are full of surprises.”
Floyd: “Whaaat~ That’s sooo funny. Can I call you Papa Crow?”
VII. FINAL.
On graduation day, you stand in full uniform.
Cloak. Gloves. Tie straightened.
Crowley dabs his eyes with his sleeve, full dramatic weeping on display.
“You were just a tiny child yesterday—tiny!!! And now look at you! A graduate! Oh, if only I’d kept that first crayon drawing of me you made—”
You hug him, tightly.
“Thanks for being my dad.”
You glance over at a graduating senior who was waiting for you at the ceremony with a bouquet of roses. You smile at him.
“WHAT??? DID THAT HORMONE-MOTH MAN JUST LOOK AT YOU? AND THOSE FLOWERS? My dearest, most wonderful, once-lost-now-found hatchling— If I see him approaching you with dark intentions OR HE THINKS TO GRAB YOU BY THE WAIST OR SOMETHING AT GRADUATION, I-.”
I loved your recent Crowley drabble and I thought of some good ‘ol agnst in a different situation of father Crowley and the reader who is their child. >:)
Crowley lost their child, the reader, due to a tragic accident, maybe an overblot incident they triggered it by accident because they were not self aware of how much magic they were using as they played around. I would like for the reader to be a humanoid, like Ortho, and is applied to NRC as an assistant of Crowley. With some strange looks, some first year students and others question the reader what figure they are suppose to represent and why they are here for.
Reader then explains that they are supposed to represent a figure dear to Crowley, but doesn’t get too much into detail since Crowley cuts them off. It then ends off with them both in the Headmage office, where Crowley expresses sorrow as they cup their cheek.
Have a good day/night!
-🗝️
CROWLEY AND READER
Where he lost his child in an accident and decides to build you as a representation of him
Where, as Crowley's child, you were born with a completely overwhelming and unstable magic, dying of an overblot at a young age. So, Crowley decides to create your new self: a puppet that looks just like his kid.
referring to this fluff where crowley raised reader and he's their self-proclamed father...
art credit to vitacarniss on twitter (I'm not sure if they're the original artist, since there's no explicit signature or authorship on the post)
It was spring when it happened. The garden was awash in pink blossoms.
You, his child, his light, his laugh—were spinning in the field barefoot.
You had been born with irregular magic, but you’d only just bloomed into it. It clung to you like mist. You played with it. Sang to it. You told Crowley proudly that your hands felt tingly every time you concentrated.
He should have seen it. Should have known.
You overblotted by accident.
Too much magic, too much happiness, too much love for the world that hadn’t yet taught you to fear yourself.
The overblot consumed you in seconds.
He saw your little body rise surrounded by darkness, blot, ink, and glittering petals of your magic gone wrong. And then—
Ash.
The headmage never forgave himself.
You walk the halls of NRC with silent steps. Everything is new. And old. Every sound echoes in your synthetic ears with perfect clarity.
You are an assistant now. An artificial being. Your face is modeled after someone who once laughed under a cherry tree.
That someone was you. But not quite. Not anymore.
You're not a student, not really. Not anymore.
You wear tailored robes marked “STAFF,”
Your title is “Administrative Representative of the Headmage.”
But they call you other things.
“That thing Crowley built.”
“The ghost kid.”
“Crowley’s doll.”
Your smile is always polite. Your magic core pulses softly.
Simulated breath in, out. One-two-three.
Crowley told you not to tell them. Told you it would be easier.
“They wouldn’t understand, little one. Let them think you’re a project. It’s safer that way.”
But you remember warm hands. A mask. A voice in the dark that once whispered lullabies to help you sleep.
You're sorting scrolls by the library shelves when the new first years corner you.
They're not cruel. Just… curious. They’ve never seen anything like you. Ace is first.
"So… seriously. What are you supposed to be? You don’t go to class, but you’re everywhere. Like—what are you? You’re not a ghost, right? Or, uh… sorry, was that rude?"
Deuce adds, “Are you like Ortho? Are you a robot?”
You pause. Your voice comes carefully calibrated. Still yours.
“I’m not a robot. I was made using magic, not machines. …I’m a representation,”
“But why? Like—what do you represent?”
You tilt your head.
“I represent someone dear to the Headmage. Someone he lost.”
Silence. That shuts them up. For a moment, the air in the library feels heavy.
Their faces shift from confusion to pity, then to discomfort.
Deuce opens his mouth, but the click of boots interrupts him, there’s a loud flutter of robes behind you.
Crowley.
He’s across the library in seconds, robes flaring. Gloved hand on your shoulder. Too firm.
“That’s quite enough, wouldn’t you say?”
He’s smiling. But you recognize the panic in his eyes. You were programmed to.
“My dear assistant is far too busy for idle chitchat! Shoo! Shoo, children, shoo!”
They scatter like startled ravens.
He doesn’t speak as he leads you out.
You say nothing either.
But your fingers tighten around the edge of your robe.
It’s late.
He hasn’t looked at you since you returned.
You stand by the window, arms at your sides. You don’t fidget. You were not programmed to. But your magic core feels tight .
“Are you angry with me?” you ask.
He doesn’t answer.
“I didn’t mean to upset you,” you murmur.
He doesn’t answer.
Your joints ache with simulated weariness. You watch his face. Tired. Drawn. Shadows deep beneath his eyes.
He finally speaks.
“You were just a child…”
The words are barely a whisper.
“You didn’t even know what an overblot was. You thought magic was a toy. You were so proud of your first flame, remember? You laughed when it turned blue.”
You nod. You remember. Or at least… you were made to remember.
“ But that’s not the point.”
You nod. “Then what is?”
“You remember things I didn’t teach you. You hum songs I haven’t sung since—since the garden. You laugh exactly the same way. And then you speak to them like you’re real.”
You say nothing. Because you don’t know if he’s right.
Are you real?
You have memories. But they were built. You have feelings, but you don’t know if they’re yours, or echoes of the child you’re based on.
“They’re going to start asking more questions,” Crowley says quietly. “They’ll dig. They’ll find out about the overblot. About what happened to you.”
You walk across the room and sit on the armrest beside him.
“Do you regret it?”
He looks at you. Really looks.
“I couldn’t save you. So I rebuilt you. Not because I thought I should… but because I couldn’t breathe without you.”
You tilt your head into his hand as he cups your cheek.
His touch is reverent. Careful. Porcelain aagainst his skin. He always touches you like he’s terrified you’ll break again like a broken doll.
“You're not my child”
You nod.
“But you sound like them. Smile like them. And sometimes I swear I see the same spark in your eyes. I just… I needed you. I still need you.”
Warnings: this is basically pure smut, with a hint of fluff.
Author’s Note: This is the requested second part to Favors. Duh, hahaha. GIF not mine.
Part 1
Crowley’s lips slammed into yours once again. Damn you for loving every moment of this agreement. For loving every moment of his hands sliding up your shirt, of his rock-hard erection grinding over your throbbing sex. For loving how the only thoughts you could think of was the warm burn of his stubble between your legs.
“My King,” you praised him as his hand gripped your breast. His other hands slithered further south, easily slipping below the fabric of your pants. With the snap of his fingers, you were naked, pressed up against the wall by his body. You trembled under his touch as he toyed with your nipple, sliding it between his teeth as his hands gripped your hips. “Oh, Crowley.” He smirked as he peered up at you. His devilish grin nearly made your knees buckle from under you.
His finger skated over your clit, forcing a loud moan from you. “Oh dear, I believe I’ve found a sweet spot.” Crowley flicked the sensitive nub again. You gasped as the King of Hell fell to his knees, something he rarely did in front of anyone, and brought his mouth to your dripping folds. His thick tongue skated between them before settling on your clit. He swirled and flicked his tongue, occasionally nipping at the slick flesh.
“I’m close,” you whined, bucking your hips against his face. His hands steadied your hips, holding you in place as he continued his rhythm.
“Not yet, kitten.” He quickly slipped two fingers into you, curling and scissoring them as he stared up at you. A devilish smirk crossed his lips. He was enjoying this so much, which turned you on more than you could ever explain.
The moment his lips hit your clit again, you came undone. Your orgasm caused your legs to give out, but Crowley held you up with a hint of his power, allowing you to ride every intense wave as it crashed into you. You screamed Crowley’s name, causing his voice to vibrate against your sex as he chuckled.
“That’s it, love.” You back arched against the wall behind you as you slowly came down from your high. Crowley left a trail of open mouthed kisses up your abdomen to your breasts. He hovered there before continuing up to your collarbone, your neck, then finally landing on your lips. The taste of your arousal on him made you moan again as he snapped his fingers once again, removing his clothing. You licked your lips as you began to lower yourself.
Crowley grinned as he kept you from falling to your knees. “Oh, not tonight, love. I want to feel your sweetness around me, now.” The growl in his voice made you whimper with need as you simply nodded.
Crowley gripped your thighs and pulled you up so your legs wrapped around his waist. He dragged his cock along your slick folds, conjuring up a deep moan from your throat. “Please, My Lord, fuck me.” He smirked at the title, secretly loving the way you praised him as he worshipped you.
He lowered you onto his cock, stretching and filling you as he pressed you against the frigid wall. Your head fell back as a strangled moan left your lips. “That’s it, darling.” Crowley pumped into you slowly, torturing you with his pace. You bucked against him, but he held you still as he smirked against the nape of your neck. “You want more?” He skirted his lips up to your ear. “Ask nicely.”
Your breath hitched at his words. “Crowley, please, faster.” Crowley chuckled before he obliged. His thrust quickened, slamming you hard into the wall. Your ass burned as it scraped against the rough stone and brick. You grinned as you imagined The King kissing it better.
Crowley reached between you, teasing his clit as he continued his pace. Within seconds, you were unraveling again. “Oh my—“
Crowley’s gravelly laugh made this orgasm even more intense as his thrusts began to falter. He was close, and knowing that made your body tingle.
“Come in me, Crowley,” you ordered the King as you gripped his shoulders.
He smirked. “Are you giving the orders now?” He bit his lip as he relaxed, spilling his hot seed deep inside you. Your jaw trembled as he slowed, both of you reaching your blissful cloud.
After a few minutes, Crowley pressed his lips against yours. You sighed against him, but he didn’t let go. He held you there, still inside of you, suspending you in his grasp.
“One favor down,” you laughed as you kissed him.
Crowley nodded, gripping your hips tightly. “I have one more favor I would like to cash in tonight, Y/N.” You tilted your head. What the heck could he possible want now? You simply nodded, a bit apprehensive.
Crowley let out a deep breath. There was a change of emotion. What was it, fear? No, not from the King of Hell. You studied him closely, your chest tightening.
He licked his lips as he leaned in over your shoulder, sending a shiver down your spine. “Y/N, be my queen.” The question stunned you, to put it mildly.
“What?” Your eyes locked on his as he pulled his head back. The freaking King of Hell was standing between your legs, his half hard cock inside you after fucking you into the wall, asking you to be his queen? Your mind raced, before finally settling on the obvious answer.
“Yes,” you smiled as you watched his lips widen. “Yes, I will.” Your last word came out as more of a moan as his cock hardened inside of you. “Now, are you going to fuck me again or what?” you teased as you kissed his neck.
Crowley snickered as he rolled his hips. “Of course. Anything for my queen.”
Tagging those who seemed to really like Part 1, hope that’s okay:
You stared up at the smug King of Hell as he lounged on his throne, smirking. He slowly rubbed his light stubble as one of his minions rambled on about soul collections and demons who went rogue. But the King’s mind was elsewhere. His hazelnut eyes flicked over to you every few minutes, dark and hungry.
“Get to the point!” He roared, refocusing on the babbling idiot.
The minion stammered and scrambled, terrified that he would end up like the last poor demon who stood before Crowley. “Sir, numbers are dropping, and we need your guidance.”
Crowley rolled his eyes and snarled. “You want me to fix your incompetence? Ha! Why don’t you go out there and bloody try harder!” With the wave of his hand, the demon disappeared, leaving the two of you alone.
The King lifted himself from his seat, his eyes locked on you. He gently tugged on the lapel of his suit jacket as he descended the few steps and glided over to you.
“Do we have an agreement, or not?” You snapped. You hated coming to the overly cocky salesman for help, especially since being anywhere near him made you feel downright sinful. But, he was your last hope. “What’s in it for you, anyway?” you snapped, trying to keep your distance. It was hard, feeling how his close proximity made your entire body tingle.
Crowley chuckled as he moved a straight hair from your face. “I help you get the boys out of their pickle,” he whispered as his finger traced your jaw line, “and I can cash in the numerous favors you already owe me.” He huffed a laugh as his eyes locked on yours. “In exchange for anything.” His eyebrow raised, making your stomach flutter.
You licked your lips, trying to make it look like it was a tough decision. But, the truth was, you knew what he was thinking. And all you wanted him to do was shove you up against the wall and take you as he wanted. “Fine.” You extended your hand.
Crowley bit his lip as he stared down at your hand. “Oh, darling, that’s not how it’s done.” The King smirked as he closed in on you. “My deals are sealed with a kiss.”
“What?” you scoffed. “I’m not selling fucking my soul, Crowley.”
“Protocol, love.” He leaned in, holding his lips just inches from yours. “If the King doesn’t obey the rules, who will?”
Your eyes shot down to his lips briefly before meeting his eyes again. “Huh,” was all you could get out before his lips were on yours. But, this wasn’t a deal sealing kiss. No. This was hungry, demanding. His tongue dominated your mouth as he slowly walked you backwards, pressing you against the brick wall behind you.
Crowley lifted his lips from yours, keeping his face close. “I’d like to cash in on one of those favors.”
Your jaw trembled as heat rose in your core. “I think that can be arranged,” you breathed as he pressed his erection against your clothed sex.
Crowley’s hand gripped your hip as his lips found the soft spot on your neck, his stubble causing a sweet burn. His lips traced up your skin, finding the tender patch of skin just below your ear. “Good.”
Author's note: Okay, so, I did a thing. I blame @mouseonamoose and the wonderful Demonology story for planting that idea inside my head! And I blame StimuWrite for making it so much fun. This is my first long story written in english and my first long story in years. I've wrote this in one sitting and beta read myself so if you find any errors: no you didn't.
Warnings: no use of y/n, no character description, some angst, being trapped, panic attack, mention of past trauma, Crowley being frightening for a minute, mention of death (no one dies in this story), some uncreative naming, fluff in the end, lmk if I forgot anything
Well, of course you noticed him to be Other. You've seen plenty of them around ever since you've changed. You didn't really know what they were. Never stayed in a place long enough to get their attention and they didn't seem to recognize you as something different than the humans around you. You also never approached them. Oh, you were curious, of course, but whenever you saw one there was this pressing feeling, a deep rooted instinct, to stay far, far away from them.
Over time you saw enough to start noticing some differences. They were all Others, but now you could divide them into two groups, or at least two, just because you've never discovered a third one doesn't mean they couldn't exist. This one was one of the, how you called them, Dark Others. It wasn't a very creative term, but it did fit the feeling that crawled its way across your spine in their presence. They felt like that one time when you were diving in a deep lake and turned your head to look down, down, down into the dark and seemingly endless abyss beneath you. Not that the other ones were any less discomforting. The Bright Others felt like hallways in a hospital. Like opening a website without darkmode in the middle of the night. Like blinding bright lighting in an all white room.
Both left the same feeling of unease.
This one seemed different. Even though you could identify him as Dark the feeling he caused was weaker than what you were used to by now. Muted. He also didn't leave you with the desire to pack everything up, abandon the cozy little shop you had set up for yourself and disappear into the night. How interesting. Was he an outlier? Was he part of the possible third group you thought about?
You were curious. And tired of moving around. And it was a really cozy shop you got here. So you stayed.
You stayed after he bought his first bag of fertilizer. A special mix made by yours truly and perfect to give plants just a little extra shine. He seemed to like it, because he came back once he ran out. You stayed after he became a regular. A fact that, a little voice in the back of your head reminded you, you shouldn't have let happen. But you were curious. And tired of moving around. And you loved your little shop.
It took a while for him to notice. Years. Years of peace, of calm, of settling in. Years of actually having a home. You had homes before of course. But you never went this long without feeling the need to leave. Be it from encountering one of the Others, or to prevent the locals from noticing that something was off.
But it seemed different this time. You didn't notice right away, but since you moved into this little corner shop in a quiet street in London you didn't encounter any Others. Except the Not-Dark one of course. At least not in this area. Maybe they didn't like London that much. Maybe your only regular customer did something to keep them away. You didn't know. And, quite frankly, didn't really care. You've learned a long time ago to take things as they came. And so, you took it as a welcome break, a kind of holidays. You allowed yourself to settle. To relax.
It was around the time you started dyeing your hairline gray that you noticed two things. First, apparently the Others also did not age. At least this one didn't. Two, his eyes started to linger. Even behind these dark glasses you could feel the weight of his gaze. At the start it was only a quick double take. A few extra glances. Then, with a subtle shake of his head, he would pay up and leave. This spiel continued for another few years. You knew you should prepare yourself to leave this place behind. Not just because of him but because you could only do so much to hide the fact that time seemed to have forgotten you in its passing. Even if it was easier these days, hair dye and the vague mention of having something done gifting you another few years, but even that only lasted so long.
You started feeling the cold tendrils of loss creeping their way inside your stomach when one of the other shop owners mentioned how well you were holding up. The tendrils grew thicker, burrowing themselves into your heart, when the Not-Dark one's, Crowley, you learned, irritation upon looking at you became more and more obvious.
This was the longest you were able to stay in one place since... you couldn't remember. Since a very long time. The desire to just stay, to keep your home, was almost overwhelming. But the fear of what would happen if they knew was even stronger. You knew how it felt to be chased out of a community. Knew how it felt to have a stone hit between your shoulders. Cast by someone you once called friend. You swore that day, you'll never feel it again. And so, with a heavy heart and an even heavier mind, you prepared for the inevitable. And you waited. It was a bit of a guessing game which one would come first. The gossip of something being wrong with how you still looked so young. Or the attention of the only other immortal you ever knew by name.
You did not have to wait for very long.
It was clear the moment he came through your door that this was it. He strode, you really couldn't call it any other way, over to where you were sitting behind the counter, not even pretending to be interested in your usual stock. You silently cursed yourself for not leaving before. For wanting to stay until the very last moment. "Who do you report to." That took you by surprise. "Excuse me?" His face distorted in something angry and terrifying. "I will not ask again." Fear at his open hostility crept into the base of your skull but outwardly you remained calm. "Well you'll have to because I have no idea what the fuck you're talking about." It probably would be best to not antagonize him further, you had no idea what the Others were or what they could do for crying out loud. But he scared you, this whole situation scared you and you would be damned if you'd take whatever would come next lying down!
The snarl left his face. Now he was just sarcastically raising an eyebrow, emphasized enough, that you could see it even with his sunglasses on. "No? Well for apparently having no idea what the fuck I'm talking about you do an awful job at pretending to be human." You didn't flinch at his words. You did. Not. Flinch.
And you still tried to pretend. "You need to leave." This only seemed to agitate him more. "No. What I need are answers. Who do you report to? Which one of them did you tell?" With one swift motion he took of his sunglasses and what you saw behind them made you almost fall over your stool with the speed you tried to back away. Snake eyes, gold and beautiful and so full of anger that it frightened you to your bones drilled themselves into your skull. Only after the initial shock had settled did you understand what he just said. "They? Who is They? I didn't tell anyone anything I don't even know who you are!"
That seemed to get through to him. The anger in his eyes partially dissipated enough for you to finally be able to take some deep, steadying breaths. "What?" It was a beautiful sound, even laced with exasperation. Like his mouth was made to make exactly that sound.
He still looked at you. But there was no more malice in his eyes. Only disbelief and... fear? What- why would there be fear? "You really have no idea who I am?" You held his gaze and shook your head no. At that he turned away, hands frantically combing through his hair. "But if not you, then who...?"
You made one, uncertain step forward. "Listen. I don't know what's going on. But I have absolutely nothing to do with it, you hear me? I'm just a shopkeep." At your words he turned to you once more, seemingly having made a decision by the way his demeanor changed. "No, you're not. But I've got no time for that now. Have you seen any other de- anyone else like me around here?" You shook your head again. "No one besides you and that other guy." His face lit up. Clearly he would know about one of his kind being near, wouldn't he? Even if that one only appeared recently. "Other guy?" Apparently not. You frowned "You know. The one living a few miles away? Always lurking near that overrated bistro?"
"What does he look like?" You did not have to think long. You always made an effort to remember the Others, if only to make staying out of their sight easier. "White. Kind of grimy. Wearing a dirty trenchcoat." He murmured something that sounded like aster but you had no idea what that meant. Without any other word he stormed out through, the doorbell ringing wildly at his departure. After he was gone you released the breath you didn't know you were holding and allowed your heart to calm a bit before sprinting up the stairs to your quaint little apartment. Grabbing the go back that waited packed and ready at the foot of your bed you turned your back to your home, after one final, wistful look around, and opened the back door.
Or you tried to at least. "What the fuck?" No matter how hard you pushed and pulled, the door didn't budge. Neither did the one in the front. Or any of your windows. You were trapped. And you had a faint feeling of who did this. "Motherfucker." You threw your bag onto the bed and released a frustrated sigh. Then a groan. And then a scream. It was a long time since someone managed to trap you. The memories you pushed down and locked away in a dark corner of your mind were eager to jump the moment they sensed your weakness. You let them flood through you. Overwhelm you. Pump you full of panic induced adrenaline.
You don't know how much time passed before you came back to your senses. Your limbs felt like lead. You were shaking. The shop was a mess. In your frenzy you’ve grabbed anything heavy enough and threw it at the window, trying to break through. Nothing worked. You were as trapped as before but also exhausted, full of dirt and after examining where that burning came from you realized your hands were covered in scratches.
With a deep sigh, you did what you could best: accept the things as they were. And even though the fear was still gnawing at the outskirts of your mind you managed to push it away to deal with the things you could control right now. The first one being a hot shower.
The water was heavenly on your aching muscles and you felt yourself calming down a bit more. Even though your eyes drooped heavy with exhaustion you didn't dare sleep just yet. You knew the nightmares waiting in your unconscious mind and you didn't want to let your guard down in case the Not-Dark one came back. You refused to call him by his name after he frightened and trapped you. So you set yourself to cleaning.
Cleaning up the mess you've made with it's monotonous movements and comforting familiarity helped locking the rest of the memories back into their corner. And when you finally did succumb to sleep you were so exhausted that you easily slipped into deep, dark, comforting nothingness.
The doorbell startled you awake. A look out of your windows showed that it had become dark outside. You must've been out for several hours. Shaking the sleep induced grogginess you made your way down the stairs not wanting to wait any longer for the confrontation you knew would happen.
He was wearing his sunglasses again which you were grateful for. The picture of his beautiful angry eyes forever burned into your mind. When you descended the stairs he lingered between the, now much emptier, shelfs, giving you some space while also examining all the little hints about your breakdown you weren't able to remove. Empty spaces where plants stood just a few hours ago, dirt and droplets of water you missed in your exhaustion. If he connected all the clues he didn't show it.
"I'm sorry for trapping you." You were surprised that these were the first words out of his mouth. He didn't seem like the type to apologize. You didn't grace him with an answer, but your eyes must've shown enough. He winced. Turned his head. Observed the scratches you made in the hardwood floor right beneath the window in your attempt to escape. Parted his lips in what you believed to be another attempt of apology. You spoke before he could. "What do you want." He closed his mouth. Bowed his head as if acknowledging you request to get to the point. "I want answers. What are you?"
"I told you. I'm a shopkeep." He frowned. You briefly wondered if he trained himself to have more visible face movement to accommodate for the glasses or if it was just how he was. "No, you're not." He repeated himself. This may have been over quicker if you just answered his question but you felt like punishing him. For scaring you. For locking you up in your own fucking home. "Yes I am. I have a shop and I keep it." - "That's not what I meant." Frustration raised his voice. So you raised yours, too. "Then be more precise!"
Silence stretched between you while he thought. Then, he removed his sunglasses and looked up. You used every single bit of restraint to will your body not to flinch. There was no anger in his gaze. Nothing that threatened to burn you the minute you locked eyes. So you looked back. "You're not human." It wasn't a question. But you answered anyway. "I don't know. I eat, sleep, fart and shit like a human." You could be a bitch when you were exhausted. He didn't seem to mind though. "But you don't age." Again, not a question. And again, you answered. "No. I don't." His gaze didn't drop. She awaited the next not-a-question. "And you can identify demons by sight." Wait a minute. Wait a fucking minute. "Demons?" Your eyes grew wide. "Holy fucking shit." Now he looked intrigued. "You really didn't know." It took a while until his words got through to you. The revelation was too big. When you felt your knees grow weak you let yourself drop heavily on the stairs you were still standing on. "No. No I didn't... wait." An even bigger revelation overcame your mind. "If they’re demons, does that mean" you looked at him. "The Bright Ones are angels?" He frowned again. "Bright ones?" The naming was really not the important part right now! "Doesn't matter. Are they?" His fingers fiddled with the sunglasses still in his hands. "I'm not sure what you mean by bright ones but I suppose, yes. Those are angels." That was... you couldn't even find a word for it. Wait. You definitely could. "Fuuuuck."
You still tried to work through everything that confirmation just entailed when he spoke again. This time an actual question. "How the heaven could you not know that? How old are you?" Still processing, you answered the floor instead of looking at him. "I don't exactly know, I just stopped aging. That was a few hundred years ago." He whistled lowly at that. "And I never got close enough to any Other to find out. I stay away from them."
"Other?" Really, why was he so interested in your naming? By now you decided to just abandon all filter and spill it. You were tired to the bones and if he was a demon, although he didn't feel like one, he certainly had ways to make you talk anyway. Or so you thought. "That's what I called them. The Dark ones, demons apparently, and the Bright ones, which you say are angels." You finally looked up into his face again. Now it was you being intrigued. "And you. The one I invented a third category for. Not as dark as the demons, but not bright like angels." Somehow what you said seemed to excite him. He almost bristled with joy.
Only then did he seem to grasp everything you said. "I can’t wait to hear about all that darkness and brightness you keep talking about. Can you die?" The second he uttered those words out loud he seemed to realize how that sounded. Not that the way you started to back off wasn't enough indication. "Sorry. You don't have to answer that." It was silent again. The fact that he still called all the shots here shook you out of your joy of finally getting some answers. "What happens now?" Your words were silent, barely audible. Anticipation building up a lump in your throat.
"Well." He scratched the back of his head. "From my side there is nothing really to be done. Again, I'm sorry for trapping you here. It seemed the right thing to do in that moment." His mouth turned into a lopsided smile. "And you do make the best fertilizer I've ever seen, so I'd hate to scare you away. If I don't already have." That last part he said so quietly that you were sure he didn't intend for you to hear. Still. It was a peace offering. And holding grudges was a thing you abandoned a century or so ago. Especially if the person was stronger than you. "Okay." He seemed genuinely relieved (he was so easy to read without those sunglasses, no wonder he kept wearing them) until you continued. "Still, I do have to leave soon." Crowleys face fell. "Why?" You smiled, a small, sad smile. "The people here are starting to notice." He went quiet. Then he did something strange with his hands.
"Not they're not." - "Excuse me?" That grin was back and this time it was bright and just a little bit smug. "They're not. They won't notice a thing." Realization dawned on you. "You did something." He shrugged, now definitely smug. "Just a small one." Now it was your turn to ask. "Why?" He shrugged again. "Told you. You make the best fertilizer my plants ever had." You raised a brow. "And" he shrugged again, this time seeming bashful. "I've never met anyone neutral that didn't..." He didn't continue but you knew what he wanted to say. Mortals were such fragile things. You didn't ask him if he proposed to become friends. That seemed just too cruel although it would probably feel pretty good to tease him. Well, it seemed like you would have a lot of time to do just that. And to be perfectly honest you were getting excited at the thought of a real connection without the ticking clock in the background. It was why you stopped meeting people.
"Also" Crowley pulled you out of your thoughts. "I'd really like you to meet my friend." Was he blushing? He was definitely blushing. Now it was your turn to grin. Keeping your home and making not one but two potential new friends? This would be interesting. And you couldn't wait to meet whoever made Crowley blush.
Prompt: Imagine your friend Charlie setting you up on a date with Crowley because she knows you have the hots for him. At first you and Crowley refuse to admit the attraction to each other but that quickly changes.
It’s been a year since you meet Charlie. She was on a “hunt” her words, not yours. Apparently your new beau at the time was just trying to kill you, chop you into pieces and then eat you. Definitely not fifth date material to be sure. Charlie came along just in time to save the day and since that day you’ve been besties.
You looked up to her, a smart intelligent strong woman standing on her own two feet in the scary world of monsters. You wished you could be that badass. Give it time. She even taught you a few things. You can proudly say that you now know to hack. Of course you wouldn’t want to shout that fact from the rooftops - jail and all.
You even met with the Winchesters. They were a big deal in the hunting community apparently, super handsome but not the kind of life you’d necessarily want to live or put up with as the girlfriend. You actually helped them both several times with research. Go you, right? You also met the King of Hell - major baddie, kind of an ass, hella sarcastic, also kinda cute and charming if you’re into that.
Today was a girl’s night. Charlie came over to hang out, watch movies, eat pizza, geek out etc. Midway through the munchies, she suggested that you go on a blind date. She was sure you’d like the guy. You groaned. I mean who likes blind dates? They never go well! It was always better to find you own guy but where? You needed a new guy, you were starting to feel lonely and even worse, you’d look at couples and wish they’d die. So yeah the whole single thing was getting to you. You agreed to the blind date and stuffed your face with delicious pizza and homemade popcorn which is the perfect way to drown out everything else.
It was show time for your date. You left the house wearing your favorite dress, the one that showed off all your curves and highlighted your best asset, your legs. You wore your “good luck” boots and had a natural makeup moment going on. You were pretty in your own right and didn’t need tons of makeup to sell it. You even put your gorgeous dangling pearl earrings on. You smiled in the mirror before you left. You closed the door arriving there a bit early. Why did you agree to this again? Oh yeah desperate, right. Charlie knew you were worried and sent you texts throughout the night stopping only when you reached the restaurant.
“You’re awesome.”
“He’s gonna love the dress. OMG girl!”
“You look like an awesome confident woman.”
“Go get ‘em, tiger.”
“Just trust me and go with it.”
That was the last one she sent and boy did it worry you. Trust her? Oh god, who were you meeting?
You went up to the hostess and almost whispered. You were way too nervous to speak at a normal volume.
“I’m waiting for someone…uh… on a blind date.” The hostess giggled.
“I knew he was with someone.”
Ok so he’s handsome, you thought. Handsome enough that she noticed and giggled. Hmm…
“Follow me sugar.”
You gulped as she lead you to the table all the way in the back away from the other patrons. Ok, privacy is good, right? She placed the menus on the table and smiled at you both before leaving. Your heart stopped when you saw it was Crowley. Really Charlie? Crowley. What the hell? No pun intended. What was Charlie thinking? I mean yes he was hot, duh. That was a given but the King of Hell. Would you even survive sex with the King of Hell? I mean he’s gotta be into kinky stuff. Runaway brain. Shit. Ok. Just sit down, talk a little, eat something and then get out of there before you do something stupid. I should have worn something ugly.”
Crowley was also having a bit for a hard time. The moment he saw you he fought to keep his expression bland. He thought you were interesting before, even intriguing but in that dress, in that outfit, wow! Now he wanted you.
“Well, this is a surprise, hello Crowley.”
“It really is. Hello, y/n. Charlie was the one that set that up? Remind me again who Charlie is?”
“The fiery red-headed lesbian hunter computer genius?”
“Ah yes that one?”
“There’s another that you know."
Crowley smirked
You both looked at the menus doing the awkward eye dance where you looked at Crowley and then suddenly looked away focusing on your menu whenever you caught him looking back. You held your menu higher so he couldn’t see you at all and almost whispered your order when the waitress comes back. She raised her eyebrows at both of you. Both of you were completely silent making a point not to stare or even look at each other. When the food came, Crowley was the first to break the silence.
“You don’t have to be afraid-.”
“I’m not afraid. I just don’t like you so it’s awkward. Besides we have nothing to talk about. What, you want me to ask about hell?”
“You don’t like me, I’m offended.”
“Oooh, a non hunter offended the King of Hell I should get a medal.”
“Feeling pretty good about yourself?”
“Yep. Besides you don’t like me either.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Oh please. I’m not a hunter, nor am I Buffy or a computer genius, I'm just a plain human. How uninteresting so let’s just get through this dinner.”
That comment really got to him. He struggled to keep his anger at bay. He was a chore for her! How dare she!
“Get through dinner. I’m a King, y/n I don’t get through dinner! I don’t need to be with-.”
“Wow, righteous indignation from the King of Hell. Calm down we were talking almost pleasantly. No need to start killing and freaking out. If it helps I withdraw the previous statement.”
“Did you mean it?”
You say nothing and continue eating. Crowley’s face pales and he looks dejected and nervous. He feels insulted and normally he would just kill anyone who would have even dared to suggest that. He knew for a fact that you were lying. Damn it he did have feelings for you. Maybe this was why you said it? Is Y/N trying to manipulate me? To what end? he pondered. He was furious at what you said and wanted payback. He would make you admit your feelings by the end of dinner damn it or he was going to kill someone!
“Hell’s good thanks for asking.”
“I didn’t really but good to know that the torturing of souls is going well. Hate for that to be all out of whack.”
“And you’re the champion of goodness.”
“Well, at least I don’t kill and torture people. “
“What do you do?”
“Don’t feign interest. It doesn’t matter. I hate when people ask about jobs as if defines the person. Who cares what I do.”
“If you hate it so much why not quit.”
“Have you ever tried looking for a job? Filling out resumes? I’d rather cut my eyes out and burn myself alive.”
“That pleasant.”
“Seriously try it sometimes. The King of Hell applying for a job. Hilarious.”
They continued eating in silence for a bit.
“How did you meet Charlie?”
“My last boyfriend tried to eat me in a nutshell. I just have bad luck with men, I'm always attracted to the wrong ones.”
Crowley raised his eyebrow
“Pompous much. You think I meant you?”
“You know dear, you are quite good at sarcasm.”
“Thank you. My first compliment of the night. Yes, I pride myself on my sarcasm.”
“You look amazing in that dress.”
“And so the night shifts. I wasn’t fishing for compliments but thanks.”
“You always like this on dates?”
“What? You mean on the defensive from a guy that can kill you with one snap of his fingers? Why no, usually the men I date are human. So this is all for you.”
“Why would I want to kill you?”
“You’re evil? It’s fun? I make you angry one day? Didn’t I already actually? This you and I, what you’re trying to start may be a death sentence for me. You have tons of enemies and I hear not all your demons are loyal. This starts and I have a bullseye on my back.”
“I would never harm you y/n. I do have a temper, but I’ve never killed a woman over it. Well, one that betrayed me.”
“Not inspiring confidence.”
“As for everyone else. I will personally see to it you are not harmed. I can ask my most loyal demons to watch you.”
“Like a demonic bodyguard?”
“Exactly.”
“He better be looking and not touching.”
“He wouldn’t dare touch you.”
That smoldering look in his eyes. Shit that was sexy. Mmmmm. Damn you resolve. Why did he have to be so fucking handsome? Yeah ok, so maybe you liked him so what?
“Someone really likes me. Good luck boots save the day.”
Crowley smiles.
“They are great boots.”
“What makes you think I even like you?”
“Oh come now dear. I know how you feel. I read your mind when you came in.”
“What? Complete invasion-.”
Crowley reached across the table and kissed you passionately.
You were reading late at night as usual. You were such a damn insomniac and so you were still up at four in the morning! You heard your phone ring tearing you away from your romance novel. Groaning you looked at the screen. 666. What the hell? How can that be someone’s number? What was the area code? Could this be Crowley? You figured you’d be the stupid girl in the horror movie and answer the phone. You put the call on speaker because you wanted to be hands-free to read and if someone dangerous was on the other line, the Winchesters would hear and come running. You couldn’t sleep without reading and at this rate you would be going to bed at 7 am.
Nothing could have prepared you for what you heard on the other end of that line. You promptly changed your mind in the space of a few seconds and switched the phone call back to regular mode. You gulped. Did I just hear my name? Was Crowley calling to me? Why was he calling me to begin with? I didn’t even say hello? Should I say hello now? Let him know I’m here? Crowley moaned your name again. Shit. That was a moan. Oh shit. He’s masturbating. What’s happening here? He groaned again and then a growl. A growl? Wow, is that sexy. I made him growl? Well, sort of. I mean he’s doing all the heavy lifting but the thought of me made him growl. Wow. He likes me? If I only knew sooner, the things we could have been doing. Heavy breathing, more moans. This is awkward, but I can’t hang up. Can I? Do I want to? Uggg! Damn you Crowley!
“Y/N! Y/N! Fuck! So tight. God. I’ve wanted you for so long. You feel amazing.”
You bit your lip so you wouldn’t start moaning. Hearing him was already making you wet. Then you almost lost it when he came screaming your name. OMG! You almost came yourself. You kept biting your lip. Too afraid to move or shift or gulp because then he’d hear. You just were forced to sit up in the bed and listen nervously. You even changed your breathing so you didn’t accidentally breathe in loudly. You listened for what felt like forever as his breathing slowly got back to normal. You heard a creak. He must be on a bed and then footsteps, they sounded like they were getting farther and farther away. Ok, safe to hang up. He wouldn’t notice. Probably butt dialed me. The King of Hell butt dials, who knew? And when he's masturbating? OMG was that hot! Shit. And he left me hanging so unfair. Totally like Crowley mind you, not that he knew he had an audience. You slowly slid your fingers inside curling them straight to where you needed them. You closed your eyes and remembered his voice, his breath, imagined him inside you. In no time, you were coming too. You bit your lip thinking Crowley but not saying it, you were too afraid someone would hear. Ok, now you could go to bed. Oh tomorrow would be so fun.
You woke up to the boys telling you about a hunt and you couldn’t be happier. You really needed to get out of here and find something to punch and kick. You needed to rid yourself of all the sexual tension you had for a certain high-ranking demon. Sam and Dean would kill you if they found out, but you’d make sure they never would. You hoped Crowley would appear before you left. God would it be a treat when he found out. It took all of your strength last night not to moan back. It was so hot. And then suddenly you saw him appear right in front of you. Oh too perfect. Now to get them out so you could talk to Crowley alone.
“Hi Crowley,” you say matter of factly.
“Hello, y/n.”
“Crowley’s here? Why?”
“Hello to you too Squirrel. The book? The very book you might need to stop said monster, the one you’re hunting in oh a few hours. But don’t thank me. It’s not like I had to go through a considerable amount of trouble to get it.”
Dean rolled his eyes and grabbed the book.
“There’s no catch right.”
“You’re welcome Dean.”
Dean groaned. Sam suddenly came into the room and looked alarmed that Crowley was here. Dean picked up on Sam’s expression and waved the book that Crowley gave them. Sam seemed to feel a bit more relieved. But why wasn’t Crowley leaving?
“Shit where’s the book bag?” Dean asked.
“I think I know where it is. You guys start the car. Crowley already gave us the book he’ll leave soon no doubt. You know him always overstaying his welcome. Get going boys, right behind you, promise. "
You waited until the boys left noticing their worried glances at leaving you alone with Crowley. The second they left, you pretended to look shy. Crowley was confused. You weren’t looking for the book bag, but you had told him in no uncertain terms to get lost.
“So how was your night yesterday?”
Crowley looks even more confused. Why were you asking him about his night? That was odd. You too had this whole flirting thing down pat, but this was…?
You smile and laugh a very loud sexy laugh.
“Ohhh Crowley yes how was yesterday night? That isn’t meant to be a stumper.”
He looks blankly at you not liking the tone of your question or the fact that you laughed.
“It was fine. How was yours?” Crowley says briskly.
You continue to smile as you walk up behind him and whisper into his ear.
“God is your voice so sexy. Would have loved to see your face though when you screamed my name. And that growl, wow! I’d say last night was great, no? It was great for me. I did something similar after hearing your voice. ”
You moved around to face him taking in his completely shocked face.
“You butt dialed me, dear. Might want to keep your phone away when engaging in private activities, just a tip.”
You couldn’t help but laugh. Crowley gulped loudly. You slinked over to him and grabbed his hair pulling him into your passionate kiss.
“Call me sometime. You obviously have my number.”
And with that you left the Bunker grabbing the backpack to join Sam and Dean on the hunt.
Prompt: Imagine getting drunk during a trip to Vegas and accidently marrying Crowley.
Also on AO3
The reader is a Winchester, the younger sister to both Dean and Sam. She has a thing for Crowley. I only put the read more in so I’m not clogging everyone’s dashboard. This is my second fanfiction, enjoy. :)
You woke up with a start. You saw movement out of the corner of your eye and started screaming nearly falling off the bed. Crowley turned around slowly to face you and raised his eyebrow. He looked almost hurt or were you just imagining that?
“Really? I don’t think I’m that scary.”
"Crowley is in my bed! I'm in a bed with the King of Hell? Oh shit!" you think to yourself.
You eye him suspiciously. Your hands slowly peel away the covers and you notice that you're both naked. You scream again and then move farther away from him into a sitting position dragging the sheets over your body. You're nearly falling off the bed at this point.
“Nothing I didn’t see already love but if you feel more comfortable, by all means cover up. And yes, we did several times. And that’s not all.”
Crowley smirked at you as he took in your body language, the skin you couldn't cover up completely wth the blankets and your sexy bed hair. He held up his hand and pointed to his fingers wiggling them. A ring. A gold ring. On his- Oh shit. You then looked slowly down at your fingers. You had a gorgeous antique engagement ring and a wedding band. What? WHAT? Shit!
This was supposed to be a job. There was a zombie killing people at the wedding chapel in Vegas brought back to life by a demon. Why? Damn I forgot. I mean why would a zombie kill people getting married that's just sad. Awesome case right? Well, at least the part where I got to hang in Las Vegas.Then again, this happened so maybe not an awesome case.
What had the plan been again? Where were Dean and Sam? Well, we found both the zombie and the demon. Both of them were very much dead now. Oh yeah, we were celebrating. Shit. Dean slept with “some girl.” And Sam is probably watching that show he loved on Netflix or gambling and me well duh we already know that story. Crowley came along for some reason. Mmmm.. Why? Think.... Oh yeah, the demon. That was the same demon he claimed was starting a rebellion in hell.
Of course knowing Crowley he could have just lied. It as no big secret that he liked me. Wait did he plan all this? So he demanded to come along since Dean and Sam fuck up on a regular basis. His words. I rolled my eyes and afterward, we got cozy too cozy and fuck. Maybe he really liked me? He did flirt with me a lot not just tonight? Awww. Not the point y/n! Stay focused we’re angry.
I had drunk sex with Crowley apparently many times and we’re the QUEEN OF HELL NOW! Libido shut up! I wasn’t supposed to get married and have sex. Fuck! Ok, calm down. I'm not dead, there are no marks on my body and I'm not in pain. Well, I have a massive hangover but aside from that no pain. Ok, so just married. How are my brothers going to deal with this? How am I going to deal with this? I mean I did like him from the beginning. That accent, wow and that cocky demeanor. He was also nice to me, always protecting me in his own way. Sometimes I would ever feel his presence in my room at night. Creepy maybe or romantic. I suppose it depends on how you look at it. I mean even if I was drunk, I'm not some kind of cheap floozy. Not counting Crowley I've only had sex with what four people? I just don't have sex with anyone. I had to have liked him before.
God, is he hot and wow was it big, extra three inches for sure. His deal was a good idea. I mean that must have felt amazing. And all those centuries of practice. He must be fucking amazing in bed! Has to be, right. Not the point. Shit. He’s staring. Talk. Say something. Wait can he read minds?
“So we’re married.”
“It seems we are.”
Crowley stops talking not sure how to proceed. He always liked you and the fact that you were the Winchesters' little sister made it all the more delicious. He remembered the sex, all of it. And wow was it good. His demon metabolism made it easy to process large quantities of alcohol and remain buzzed but nothing more unlike you obviously. Crowley kind of wanted to stay married. He’s never been married, could be fun. He kept his face blank, the last thing he needed was you guessing his thoughts.
You remembered some of the sex or rather bits and pieces and what you remembered of it was great. You were a Winchester, a hunter though and Crowley was a demon, the king of demons actually. He was handsome and you couldn’t deny the way he looked at you, that hungry you sometimes saw in his eyes, the way he touched you. Oh god, you remembered more about last night and wow the sex was really good. You bit your lip to keep from moaning. You felt yourself get a little wet. And when he was chained up in the bunker, it took all of your strength not to do anything then. So you figured what the hell? You were getting tired of risking your life; of almost dying, of being scared of dying, of being threatened and kidnapped, and of never having anyone to be with. That was the life of a hunter Dean would say. But you didn’t want you that life, you wanted a normal life, you wanted to get married and have a family. Maybe this was your chance. Your only chance? Sure not exactly normal, but you’d take what you could get in your messed up little world.
You were about to speak and then suddenly, you felt a wave of nausea hit you. You closed your eyes, groaned and crinkled your nose. Crowley smiled finding your expression adorable. He carefully took two fingers and placed them on your forehead instantly taking away your hangover. It wasn't fitting for the Queen of Hell to be in pain, not if Crowley had anything to say about it.
"Thank you, Crowley."
"Anything for my Queen."
“Well, my King, my husband what now?”
He snapped his fingers putting clothes on you both in seconds. Crowley smiled and took your hand bringing it up to his lips to kiss gently. It didn't take a genius to see your indecision a moment before. Going slowly and gently was fine with him, it was worth the wait.
"Well, my Queen how about going to Hell for a moment just to tell my demons I have a Queen, a wife and then we can always go somewhere more fun, anywhere you want."
