Armageddate with Unexpected Outcome (or: The Wall Thing)
by @edit-by-riley
Rated E, 9193 words
Status Complete Work
Summary
When leaving the Ritz after their dinner date, Crowley and Aziraphale nearly run into Muriel - the exact person they're meant to be hiding from (long story).
Thankfully, Crowley is a quick thinker and knows how to silence his giggling angel.
But Aziraphale seems to enjoy the whole "Being Shoved Against A Wall" thing a whole lot more than the demon expected...
Why we love it
It's the pair we love so much, everything is resolved (no s2 drama) and they're having a nice dinner, just the two of them. It starts with the adorably fussy angel and the delightfully smug demon doing what they do best, drinking and flirting, until things... escalate. The dialogue feels so true to their characters, this could very easily be a short story taken right out of the deleted scenes.
The amount of times I gasped and giggled and blushed with this story are simply too many to count. I had to stop and go "fuuuuuuck" (/pos) every few sentences. It takes us through Crowley's discovery of Aziraphale's 'interests' and it's as delicious as advertised. Top that off with some hilarious interactions (including some unfortunately displayed portraits and an unexpected book party) and you've got yourself nearly 10k words of pure bliss.
Overall, it's an exquisite read, funny and sweet and very very hot (gentledom!Crowley, hello).
Tags: smut, dom Crowley, wall slam, post S1, banter, established relationship, canon compliant
I can imagine Aziraphale as a sub that likes being told what to do. Likes getting ordered. Crowley finally convinced (and it takes some convincing) to pin his wrists down to the bed and tell him exactly what he's going to do to him and how he's going to be punished. Likes being smacked on the arse until it's pink, likes when Crowley uses his teeth. (but doesn't break the skin, he knows, he trusts him)
is it hot in here
but really, Aziraphale would love him some dom!Crowley, he needs some authority in the house.
A/N: Ok, y’all have been SO patient, and I appreciate it so much. You know i’m not a natural writer, so these things take a lot longer to happen than I’d like. Hopefully, you’ll think your patience has been rewarded. Special shout-out to tumblr’s newest denizen, and my lovely beta, Ms. @singingphoenix. She helped a lot with ideas and basically just reminded me that I don’t suck.
The Road So Far: Ok, so the reader and Crowley had a crazy encounter last Halloween, and the reader limped walked away with a new talisman that protects the wearer from witches’ spells. (Catch up on part one Here)
Caveats: THIS IS SMUT! If you keep reading, you will find adult language, Dom!Crowley, Scruffing, Injured!Reader, rough sex, dirty talk, slight humiliation but only if you kinda squint at it, and getting caught.
Word Count: 4,800ish (and y’all wonder why it takes me a year to write a new chapter...)
“Ouch ouch ouch ouch…” You tried to keep your whimpering to a minimum, even though there was no one else in the bunker. Being loud wasn’t going to fix your shoulder and neck, so you stuck to the whispered litany as you dangled head-first off the end of your bed, in your own low-rent version of traction.
Just gotta stretch it out. It’s gonna be fine. It’s just a muscle spasm. You’ve had worse, Y/N. You can handle- OUCH! You hissed an inhale through clenched teeth. Stupid! Turning your head so fast. There’s no one walking in the hall. The boys are hunting- without you- because you’ve got to get this neck thing under control before you’re fighting shape again. Empty bunker makes weird sounds, you know that.
A few deep breaths helped you relax your muscles again. Trying to think happy thoughts, you closed your eyes and remembered the look on the witch’s face when her first spell rebounded off of you and sent her sprawling. Your tiny smile didn’t seem to aggravate your injury too badly, so you kept on remembering. Crowley’s trinket had protected you like a charm (which, technically, was exactly what it was). All the bitch’s spells had rebounded or ricocheted off of you, with no other effect but the Luisgeàrd getting slightly warm against your chest. Feeling invincible, you had taken off after her when she ran through the warehouse. How were you to know she’d go all analog and knock a chest full of spell ingredients onto you? Your smile disappeared into an annoyed sneer. For a 300-year-old lady, she had been strong as hell.
Hell. There it was again. The uncomfortable twist of your gut. In the six months since you had seen the King of that place, any mention of Hell made you blush and/or writhe.
Without opening your eyes, you tugged at the thin leather cord at your throat. It had been your constant companion for half a year, along with the memories of the night you’d acquired it. Since the night of Crowley’s Halloween ball, you’d used the Luisgeàrd several times. Four witches were no longer cackling thanks to you and your new accessory. Running a hooked finger back and forth across the necklace, you relived Crowley’s words. Again. “I expect that trinket to be returned to me. In pristine condition. Or there will be consequences.” A deep shiver set off a pang in your injury, and you took a few more deep breaths. You relaxed, again. Well, most of you. You shifted your thighs together and blew out a breath through pursed lips. Six. Months.
Oh, there had been guys. Young bucks picked up in bars, that sheriff's deputy down in Des Moine, one very memorable instance of gotta-have-it in a gas station bathroom. All perfectly serviceable, but nothing… well. Nothing like Crowley.
You chewed at your lip, eyes still closed, and weighed your options. The bunker was empty. No boys to interrupt you. Why not indulge a little? You had put concerted effort into not remembering Crowley in your- shall we say- more vulnerable moments. Best not to open that door. Too many confusing feelings. But it had been so long, and maybe the feelings weren’t as strong as you thought. Just a little trip down memory lane. You deserved a treat, alone and in pain as you were. Something to lift your spirits.
You finally dove into the memory. Played it like a movie against your closed eyelids. Start at the beginning, you thought. Savor it.
Dancing. Well, more accurately, being buoyed in Crowley’s arms, floating in dizzying whorls around the ballroom. His hands had been chastely positioned at the time- no one looking on could know that his demonic power had manifested other hands. Under your skirt...
You hummed low in your throat, thinking of that hot grip on your ass, and slid one of your hands under the waistband of your pajama pants. The fingers of your other hand drew lazy circles across the rowan wood disk on your necklace. You still lay with your head dangling over the side of your bed. You’d have to move slow and carefully so you wouldn’t jostle your injury…
After the dance, there was a drink in the library. And your first glimpse of the Luisgeàrd. And then… You released a shaky breath as you recalled the kiss that started everything. Crowley had hit you like a wave, bowling you over and backwards to the large table… Images came fast, and you had to deliberately slow them down. Drink them in. You cupped your hand around yourself, feeling the heat.
The candlelight making his demon mask glow as he crowded himself between your legs…
You drew your fingers slowly through your slick, whimpering slightly. That tense moment when he found the demon knife at your thigh… One side of your mouth lifted and you barely brushed across your clit, thinking of the point of the knife against your breast and Crowley’s voice in your ear. “I want you to trust me, Y/N. Can you do that?” You slowly slid a finger in, and had gotten two knuckles deep when you heard a rumbling chuckle at your open door.
A great many things seemed to happen at once. Your startled squawk, your hunter-instinct leap off of the bed, and the pain lancing through your neck and shoulder, turning that leap into a graceless spasm/tumble onto the floor. The impact jarred your injury further, and you screamed first in pain, then in rage when you caught sight of the black coated figure in your doorway.
“FUCK! CROWLEY?! WHAT THE FUCK?! FUCKING SHIT! OW!” This was all a rapid-fire barrage at full volume, as you clutched your neck and writhed on the floor. You managed to heave yourself into a crouch at the foot of your bed, and turned the full force of your glare onto Crowley. He was apparently taken aback at the reception. For a moment, you just stared at each other, the only sound in the room was your breathing, bull-like through your nostrils.
“Well, that’s not exactly the welcome I was expecting.” Crowley’s eyebrows lowered from their perch near his hairline, settling into a crumple of concern. “Y/N, love, are you hurt?” He took a hesitant step towards you.
“The fuck does it look like, asshole?” you shot back. Pain made you less than charitable at the best of times, let alone when the King of Hell dropped in unannounced, scaring the shit out of you, right when you were… you were…. Oh, shit. You felt the flush surge up your torso to your scalp and dropped your gaze. There was a small beer stain on the industrial carpet in front of Crowley’s left shoe. You couldn’t seem to look anywhere else.
“What happened?” He said after a moment. His voice was oddly tight, controlled. Contemptuous. That brought up your own combative response. How dare he judge you for getting injured!
“I got a Chippendale china cabinet dropped on me,” you snarled, finally meeting his eyes again, “There, you happy? Let the gloating begin!”
Crowley inhaled, rolled his head toward the ceiling, and dragged a palm across his mouth and jaw. He was angry. What the fuck gave him the right to be angry at you?! Just as you opened your mouth to defend yourself, he dropped his gaze back to you and said, “Those stupid, cowboy-brained, flannel factories you live with let you get HURT?! Where are they?!” He spun towards the hallway, as if he meant to personally drag the Winchesters to your room to explain themselves.
You couldn’t help it. You laughed.
Stress response, shock, sleep-deprivation, psychotic break- whatever you want to call it, you dissolved into a fit of witch-level cackling, right there on your floor, the ruler of another dimension looking on, incredulous. Every laugh sent a hot wire of pain through your neck and shoulder, but it seemed that your body couldn’t be bothered with that, right now. Laughing was more important. So you clutched at your injury and guffawed until you cried.
When you finally got yourself under semi-control, you blinked around watering eyes and focused on Crowley. He was crouched in front of you, now. One of his hands rested over yours, where you held your neck, his other hand on your temple, as though he could check for psychosis like fever.
“Sorry,” you gasped, “it’s just…” a giggle escaped, “you were so mad…” Another bubble of laughter threatened, but you fortified and fought it down. “What do you care, if I get hurt? You know what I do for a living, right?”
“Wasn’t aware you got paid,” he murmured, searching your eyes for any signs of another impending crackup. Without warning, a quiet, charged energy settled into the space between you, and suspended the moment a little too long.
“You know what I mean,” you said softly, leaning your forehead against his hand without meaning to. “It’s a dangerous gig. You’ve seen the boys ripped up and bloody- hell, you’ve been the one to bloody them, sometimes- and you’re upset that I tweaked my neck?”
“I’ll have you know, I’m rather fond of that neck,” he chided. His thumb was absently petting your hairline. It felt good, and you sighed a little, finally relaxing the tensed muscles through your stomach and arms. As your body released itself from hunter defcon, the agony in your neck resurfaced.
“Fuck, that hurts,” you whispered, closing your eyes against the pain.
“Where are the not-so-wonder twins, anyway?” he asked.
“Hunting, duh.” You rode the wave of anguish until it subsided a little, and opened your eyes. “There’s a haunting over in Junction City. Milk run-level shit, but they didn’t want me tagging along, with this.” Your eyes cut disgustedly toward your injury.
“What happened?” he asked again, softly this time, and gently helped you to your feet.
You shrugged with your good shoulder and avoided looking directly at him. You hadn't admitted that you were ashamed of getting hurt, but Crowley saw it. You saw him see it. Observant bastard. You soldiered on.
“There was this witch.” Your fingers tangled in the Luisgeàrd’s leather cord and you stared at Crowley’s lapel. “I got cocky. This thing’s awesome, by the way.” You hoisted the talisman in Crowley’s general direction and kept talking to his boutonniere hole. “I ran after her- and the guys couldn’t catch up fast enough, so it’s not their fault- and she just got the jump on me. Should have seen it coming. It was stupid.” Tears of shame pricked your eyes and you blinked hard as you tried to shake yourself back into self-possession. You would absolutely not cry in front of Crowley. That was unacceptable.
Crowley closed the distance between you and then you were tucked into his arms, snuffling against his shoulder, like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like the last- and only other- time you’d been this close hadn’t been a semi-anonymous, masked fuck on a ceiling beam. Last time, you hadn’t had the brainpower to notice how good he smelled. Sulfurous, yeah, but more like incense than rotten egg. Ironically, it reminded you of church Sundays with your grandmother, as a kid. You inhaled deep, enjoying the moment, and opened your mouth to remark on his smell, when you remembered his similar observation of you.
“There’s that delicious smell…”
The moment shattered, and you pushed away from him with shaking hands. Clearing your throat, you turned and carefully began straightening things on your desk. Heating pad, ice pack, pain killers, lore research, all got picked up and dropped again as you forced a businesslike tone into your voice. “What are you doing here, Crowley?”
If your instant gear shift unsettled him, he didn’t show it. In his usual Kinglier-than-thou resonance, he answered, “What? A chap can’t pop in to check on his property?”
For one infuriating heartbeat, you thought he meant you were his property, but then the logical side of your brain realized that he meant the Luisgeàrd. “Oh.” You turned to him, and began carefully lifting the talisman over your head, trying not to anger your muscle spasm. “If you want it back, that’s fine. We never discussed how long I could use it, so, if you need it back-”
“Y/N.” He was studying you with that self-assured tilt of the head, his hands in his pockets. Everything about him screamed Smartest Person In The Room. It galled you.
“What?” you snapped.
“When was the last time someone took care of you?”
The way he said it, you weren’t sure if he meant “care” like, “here, have a glass of wine and put your feet up”, or “here, have a mind-blowing orgasm”. Somehow, it sounded like both. You had no idea how to respond to that double question (the answer being, simultaneously, “not in living memory”, and “the last time I saw you”), so you decided to deflect.
“The fuck are you talking about, Crowley? Do you want this thing or not?” You waved the Luisgeàrd at him.
“You’ve been putting it to much better use than I ever did.” He stepped toward you. Only one step. Hands still in pockets, head still cocked back and to the side, still all King. Something about that one step made you shiver. “I’ve been keeping tabs. But you didn’t answer my question, Y/N.”
“You’ve been keeping tabs? Have you been spying on me?!”
“Keeping an eye out, let’s say. A bloke has to protect his interests.” That time, he might have been talking about the Luisgeàrd, or about you. Another step forward. “Quite a big time you and your boys have been having, galavanting all over, not suffering a witch to live, and all that.” Another step, and he was close enough you had to tilt your head back a bit to meet his eyes. His voice dropped an octave when he said, “You and your boys.”
“Yeah, we’re pretty badass hunters. Didn’t you get that memo?” you snarked and took a half step back. You were finding higher brain function a little tricky, with him so close.
“Not what I meant. What was his name? The wanker who had you in that roadside loo?” He tutted. “Not exactly sanitary, love. But who would dither about locale when your delicious self is right there, ready to go?”
That flared your temper. Your higher brain managed to stop you just before you punched the smirk off his face. He’s trying to rile you up. Don’t let him. You let your face slide into an evil grin as you spat back, “What, Crowley? Are you jealous? Big bad King of Hell is jealous?”
He took another step. You tried to move back, but came up short against your desk. He was too close. Close enough to smell him. Close enough to see one of your hairs clinging to his suit coat. Close enough to send your heart racing. Traitor. The heat between your legs was back and you couldn’t seem to think straight.
Six months. Fuck.
Crowley smiled down at you and brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. His voice was a soft, dark rumble as he said, “Never. I’m not naive or stupid, Y/N. I didn’t expect you to pine away, doodling our names in little hearts on you chemistry notebook. Just… I missed you. I like watching over you.” His hand slid behind your head, tilted you back for a kiss.
And the pain hit, again.
“Fuck!” you hissed, teeth gritted. The most annoying thing about bodily damage was it asserted itself at the worst possible time. So, not only were you in pain, you were also embarrassed and awkward about it. “Sorry,” you managed, “This fucking spasm isn’t going away. Pisses me off.”
Crowley stepped back, pointed to the bed, and said, “Lay down.”
You huffed, sardonically. “Tempting offer, your highness, but I’m in no shape for-”
“Y/N. Will you just- for once- relax? I just want to check your spine.”
You squinted at him. Who was this new Crowley? Granted, you had only had a couple (very memorable) encounters, but you’d never seen him this… solicitous. Then, with a raised eyebrow, he crossed his arms. “Now, young lady.”
Well, that sent a flutter through you that you’d rather not take the time to contemplate. Swallowing and a little shaky, you kept your eyes on his as you crossed to your bed. He offered you a chivalrous hand and helped you settle yourself face down, tucking pillows under you and trying not to jostle you too much. You took deep breaths and tried to calm your thrashing heartbeat, every muscle painfully aware of the dip in the mattress as he settled himself behind you. You only jumped a little when you felt the warm pressure of his fingertips at the nape of your neck, moving slowly, carefully down your spine, massaging the angry muscles, taking stock of your injury. As he worked, he kept murmuring to you as if you were a spooked horse. Not even words, really, just comforting humms and tutts and shushings. You were vaguely aware of your own whimpers, half from pain, half from the emotional tumult of being in such a vulnerable position under someone who could kill you without blinking.
“I need you to trust me, Y/N,” he had said. “Can you do that?” Could you? Could you really trust Crowley? At least one part of your anatomy was all for it. The feeling of his hands on your skin was sending a wave of pulsing heat through you, and you were hyper aware of your now damp panties. Lost in the war between pussy and brain, you almost didn’t hear him when he said, “Looks like you’ve got a vertebrae out of place, Love.”
“Huh?” That sounded serious. Scary serious. You swam back to full cognizance, and tried to turn over to look at him. His hand landed on your shoulder blade, keeping you face down.
“Oh, no you don’t. Stay still. I can fix it, but you’ll be a bit sore for a few days.”
“You can fix it?” You scoffed. “You can just magically put my spine back in order? I didn’t know demons had healing powers.”
“Of course.” You could hear the smile in his voice. “Did you forget what I do for a living, pet? How d’you think we keep people from dying during… enhanced interrogation? Now, stay. Still.”
You froze, barely breathing. If it weren’t for the rushing sound in your ears, you’d have sworn your heart stopped. His hands draped around the sides of your neck, thumbs on your spine. Heat (a drop of hellfire?) shot down the nerves between your skull and tailbone. There was a POP and a flash of pain, then release. It felt like having a dislocated joint put back in its socket.
“There. Six months of chiropractic visits you don’t have to pay for.” Crowley sounded very pleased with himself.
You carefully lifted yourself onto your elbows. No pain. You gingerly turned your head to look at him over your shoulder. Only a slight tightness in the muscles. He was grinning at you. “Now, how can you ever repay me?” His hand was dragging circles up and down your back, eyes a mix of predatory and proud, and your brain was going all fuzzy, again. You swallowed.
This is Crowley. Dangerous. King-of-Hell dangerous. Evil-demon dangerous.
“You think just because you fixed my neck, you’re gonna get in my pants?”
You shifted a little, to relieve the tension coiling under those pants, and tried to play it cool. You did pretty well until Crowley leaned forward, slid his hand onto your ass, and whispered in your ear, “No, love. I think that I can get in your pants because I can smell how wet you are.” His grip tightened, and your eyes involuntarily rolled up in your head. “Don’t think I forgot what you were doing when I walked in, here. No games, pet. You need this, don’t you?”
“Fuck, Crowley,” you breathed. And that was it. You made your decision. Better or worse, evil or not, you wanted the King of Hell. Wanted him badly. And here he was, willing to oblige.
“Is that a ‘yes’, Y/N?” Crowley dragged his mouth up your neck, dropping hot kisses as he spoke. His thumb hooked into the waistband of your pajamas, started to tug downward. “I need you to say it, pet.”
Your head curled backward and you caught his mouth with yours. “Yes, Crowley,” you breathed against his lips, “Yes.” No going back, now.
He kissed you like he could inhale you, rolling your body this way and that, dragging your clothes off. Somewhere in the tumble, he lost his clothes as well, although you couldn’t remember helping him with it. He managed to keep you on your stomach the whole time, and the heat of his body at your back was dizzying. The feel of his skin on yours had you writhing under him, to get more friction. Mewling in pleasure and frustration, you spread your legs so he could settle behind you, and gripped the sheets for stability. Higher brain function was out of the question. You had become a being of instinct, and it felt great.
Crowley trailed the length of his cock down the crack of your ass as he growled in your ear, “Do you know how often I thought of you, Y/N? How many times I remembered the feeling of you tight around me? Imagined those gasps and pants of yours?” Those gasps and pants seemed to be your whole vocabulary at the moment, so you just rolled your hips and let him do whatever he liked. “I seem to remember you saying something about not being a quiet fuck... no reason to stifle it, now. Can’t wait to hear you, Y/N…” He kept slowly rutting against your ass, talking to you, and snaked a hand around to reach for your dripping slit. When he found it, he groaned against your neck, “Oooh, there’s my good girl. Fuck, you’re wet, aren’t you? Did you miss me, too?” He pushed two fingers into your hole, teasing and stretching and stroking. That was when you cried out.
“Fuck! Oh, goddamn fucking hell, yes!” You rocked back and forth, trying to push against his dick behind you and his fingers inside you at the same time.
“That’s it, love. Let me take care of you. I know what you need. Let your King give you what you need.” He had three fingers in, now, drumming gainst that spot that sent you reeling, thumb circling your clit. You were wailing already, short “Aah!Aah!Aah!”s echoing down the bunker’s halls, but when you felt his teeth against the back of your neck, you let go and screamed. Crowley bit down, hard enough to bruise, and kept pumping his fingers in and out of you as you came. When the wave passed and left you gasping and hoarse, before you could recover completely, he hoisted your hips into the air and shoved himself inside you.
There are memories that you carry through your life, certain foods or movies or experiences that inflate in your recollection, and when you find them again, they aren’t quite as good as you remember. Crowley’s cock was not one of these things. As wet and ready as you were, he still stretched you wide, your walls burning. You were screaming, again. He kept his grip on your hips, buried as deep as he could go, and held you in place as you bucked against the intrusion.
“Oooh, yes, Y/N! That’s it, pet. That’s it. You take it! Oh, bloody hell, love, you can take it all, can’t you? Fuck, I’ve missed this cunt!” He landed a stinging smack on your ass and started fucking you in earnest. It was so fast- he was so big- you wallowed against the mattress and lost yourself in the experience. Your shrieks mingled with tears and soaked into your pillow. “Does that hurt, love?” He spanked you again and punctuated his words with deep thrusts. “Answer me, Y/N! Does! That! Hurt?”
“Yes!” you cried.
“Do you want me to stop?”
“NO! Fuck no, Crowley, never stop!” You didn’t even know who you were, anymore. The badass, take-no-shit hunter had dissolved into a screaming, rutting animal. You could get used to this…
Crowley kept slamming into you as he reached down, got a handfull of your hair in his fist, and yanked your head back. “Then you listen to me, pet,” he snarled, “I’m the only one who gets to hurt you. Do you hear me? Not those monsters you hunt. Not the boys you play with. Me.”
“Fuck! Yes!” You were going to come again, you could feel yourself tightening around that punishing dick.
“Yes.” SLAM “What?” SLAM
“Yes sir! Yes, my King! You get to hurt me, no one else! Fuck, Crowley- Fuck- I’m gonna- AAAHH!” You shook apart, quaking and rolling, and the world went white. Crowley just picked up the pace and fucked you through it, until he couldn’t hold on anymore. With a hoarse bellow, he stuffed himself to the hilt and held you still against him as he unloaded deep inside you.
As you both came down, you didn’t bother uncoupling. You just slumped sideways onto the bed. Crowley gathered you up against his chest and laid panting kisses across your shoulder. You reached back to run your fingers through his hair and tried to catch your breath.
“Holy shit…” you sighed. His breathless chuckle rumbled at your back.
“Indeed.”
He slid his hand over your side and hip and thigh, then trailed back up your stomach and cupped your breast. He nuzzled into your neck and sighed happily.
“Are you alright, love?”
“Are you kidding? I’m fucking fantastic. I’m gonna be sore for a bit, but… I think I’ll like that.”
His softening cock gave a little twitch inside you. “Mmmm. Want me to kiss it better?”
You laughed and tangled your fingers with his. “Jesus, lemme catch my breath, first.” You both lay quietly for a moment before you whispered, “Crowley?”
“Mmm?”
“Why did you come here, tonight? Really?”
“I told you. I’ve been keeping tabs.”
“And that requires an in-person apparition to my bedroom?”
“No…”
“Then why-”
“I stayed away as long as I could. Stuck to the scrying bowl and second-hand reports. Then, two weeks ago, I… couldn’t stand it. I popped in. Stood outside your door, trying to decide if I should knock. Didn’t have the stones, as it turned out. Moose rounded the corner and I barely made it out without him seeing me. But it was nice being near you, so, I came back, tonight. Bloody glad I did, too.” He nudged his hips against you, jokingly.
“The big, bad King of Hell is sentimental?” You smirked at him, over your shoulder. He smirked back, shifting a little. You both groaned as he slid free. You missed him, immediately.
“Yeah, well. Don’t go spreading it ‘round, yeah? I’ve a reputation to think of, after all.”
You wiggled around to face him, stared into those guarded hazel eyes, and asked the question you’d been wrestling with for six months. “What the fuck are we doing, Crowley? What is this? I mean, I barely know you. Half the time, I don’t trust you... What are we doing?”
He lifted his palm to your cheek and pressed his forehead to yours. “Y/N, I-”
The bunker’s front door squealed open, and two pairs of booted feet came galloping down the metal staircase.
“Yo! Y/N!” Dean’s voice bellowed from the library. “We’re back! Where you at?” You heard the Winchesters thundering down the hallway to your room.
“Crowley, you’ve gotta-” you hissed urgently, but he was already gone.
Which is when Dean and Sam rounded your doorway, and found you rumpled, sweaty, and buck naked on your bed, alone.
“WOAH!” Dean recoiled like he'd been shot, and slapped a hand over his face. Sam squeaked in embarrassment and spun back out into the hall.
“Fuck, guys! Haven’t you ever heard of privacy?!” You scrambled to wrap the sheets around yourself and jumped to your feet.
“Haven’t you ever heard of a closed door?!” Dean shot back, eyes still covered. Then he grinned. “But, Hey, you know, I get it. Place to yourself, decided to throw a little party of one. We’ve all been there, right, Sammy?”
Sam grabbed his brother by the collar and dragged him down the hall. “Sorry, Y/N. Um... Sleep well. We’ll... Uh... See you in the morning.”
With all the thoughts scrambling around in your mind, you doubted sleep was on the menu, but you sighed, closed your door, and went back to bed.
It still smelled like Crowley.
My Queens of Hell: @mamaredd123, @motleymoose, @roxy-davenport, @fuschiarulerinthebluebox, @cowbelle8, @gettinjoyful, @faeryprincess666, @lillymorningstar, @mintplantfuckery, @mylittlewingedangel, @daughterofthebrowncoats, @docharleythegeekqueen, @earinafae, @lucifer-in-leather
Summary: Crowley has an interesting encounter with a female hunter. The new female hunter, Samantha, adjusts to her new home with the Winchesters. She becomes accustomed to the hunting life and how it’s like living with Dean and Sam. She learns about the Winchester’s previous encounters, including one with a particular red eyed demon…
Samantha found her way into the kitchen, tying the robe at her waist a smidgen tighter. It fell to the floor, just how she liked. Most women’s robes were at the knee - even the winter ones, which she always hated. This one, however, just so happened to be floor length, and very comfortable. She smiled and searched the cabinets for a coffee mug. She was still getting used to the place and getting used to where things were. She found a black mug and poured herself some coffee and filled it with creamer. Giving it a stir with a spoon, she brought the warm cup to her lips and took a sip “Mmm…” She hummed. Samantha smiled at the taste and set it down, looking for a pan and some eggs to cook.
“Hey”
The young girl gasped and spun around, “Oh-- hey Dean, you scared me.” She faced him, putting the pan down on the stove.
“That’s my robe, princess” He looked at her with squinted eyes in the doorway, wearing his pajama pants and grey t-shirt.
“O-oh,” She subconsciously looked down and reached to touch the ties of the robe. “Really? I’m sorry, I just found it in the bathroom. It was folded up and it looked like it hadn’t been worn in a long while, so-”
“It was just washed” His facial expression was grumpy, but the corner of his mouth crept up in a smirk from seeing her falter so innocently. “It’s alright, no harm done. Just remember to put it back in my room, okay?”
“Okay,” She replied almost obediently and took another sip of her coffee. “Would you like an omelet or some scrambled eggs? I was just about to cook some for you two…if that’s what you like.”
Dean raised a brow, “Really…? You were? That’s awful nice of you. You don’t have to do that.”
“Well, I wanted to. I’m your guest, and I’m new…” she blushed, “I wanted to do a little something for you guys.” She smiled and pushed her hair back behind her ear.
“Hmph,” Dean strode over to the coffee maker with a smirk on his face, and grabbed himself a black coffee, “That’s adorable.” His voice rumbled as he let out a small chuckle, “But if you really want to, you can make me an omelet and Sam some scrambled eggs. He likes those.” Dean’s speckled green eyes flickered over to her warm brown eyes. She returned his gaze politely, then returned to making their breakfast.
“So you guys have been living here for a few years now,” she looked up at him with furrowed brows, “How old is this place?” She inquired.
Dean leaned back against the counter and crossed his arms, coffee in hand, “Yeah, we’ve been here for a little while now. We finally have a place to call home. It’s great. It’s a damn fortress too,” He took a sip of his coffee. “The bunker’s been here since the forties. It was one of the home bases for the Men of Letters. It’s pretty big, but you’ll get used to it.” He grinned and pointed a finger at her. “You still need a tour”
Samantha nodded, “Yeah I do. I should probably know the in & outs of my new home.” She opened the fridge to see if there was any orange juice, and saw something else that caught her eye. “Hmm…bacon?” She looked at him curiously and his eyes went wide like a small puppy, “Yes please. You’d be an angel if you made some bacon” She chuckled and took them out along with the OJ. “Well, if it’s what you want, I’ll make it for you.” Samantha put them on another pan and lit the gas on the stove. “You know…it’s really comforting knowing I live in such a sturdy home- completely warded off from all monsters” She sighed, very relieved, yet still in disbelief of her home invasion back in New York. “It’s nice to know I didn’t just hitchhike with a couple of rednecks and be taken God knows where…heh…” A red tint rose to her cheeks with embarrassment.
The sturdy hunter rolled his shoulders and pursed his lips before clearing his throat, “Yeah thank God for that”
“Ughhh….*yawns* mrrugh” Sam appeared from the corner, rubbing his eyes and yawning like a bear with his hair sticking up in random places.
“Mornin’ sleepy head,” Samantha chirped, peering at the giant in the kitchen, “You sure seem well rested”
Before Sam could open his mouth for a quick reply, he noticed she was wearing Dean’s robe. His brows cinched together questioningly, as he gave Dean a knowing look. Dean explained, mock-offended with outstretched arms, “She’s not even here a week and she stole my robe”
The comment made her giggle and she dished out their breakfast. “Here’s some food to make up for it” She handed them their plates and Sam looked surprised and flattered, “Aw, you made me scrambled eggs? That’s so nice. Thank you” He leaned over and ruffled her hair, making it messy.
She smiled and said sweetly, “Bon Appetit, Monsieur Winchester” She made a plate for herself and took it to the counter while the boys ate at the small table.
They both took their first bite and groaned happily. She peered at them, pleased with their resounding reactions to her cooking. “Mm, that’s delicious. Are those spices on my omelette? …I didn’t even know we had those…”
“I found’m just laying around. I’m glad you like it,” She smiled and drank her coffee.
“It tastes delicious,” Sam grinned sweetly, “We don’t always have the time to have home cooked food, so it’s great to be able to enjoy it when we can.”
Samantha tilted her head, confused, “What do you mean?”
“When we’re out on a hunt - we usually have to resort to greasy burgers and stuff like that,” Sam informed her.
“Oh...”
“Which you’re not going to do for a LONG time,” Dean interjected, “So you can just stay here and cook all the food you want and be out of harm’s way,” he smiled.
“Well, she’ll still have to learn how to hunt eventually, Dean.”
“Eventually, meaning a very long time from now- possibly never…” Dean grumbled while drinking his coffee.
Samantha huffed, “Why not? I wanna go on a hunt one day!”
Dean sighed, “Look, no offense to you at all, but it wasn’t even my first choice to bring you here and have you tied up in our supernatural chaos.”
Sam shot him a bitch face and peered at Samantha with soft eyes, “Dean is sort of right… -about hunting. But…There’s no rule that says you shouldn’t learn self defense” This reassured her, and peaked her interest.
“Hmm…that makes sense. I should start out small. And do the ‘looking up’ thing you guys do. I should practice that”
Dean turned to her and smirked. “You mean, research?”
“Oh- yeah, yeah. Of course,” She blushed and stuffed some more food in her mouth, “Well…I have a bachelor’s degree in psychology. Would that be helpful in any way?”
“Definitely,” Dean said, “Being a mind reader has its perks on the job. You gotta know who’s lying, how to read people, whether or not they’re bluffing, and you gotta know how to sweet talk your way into places”
“I figured so,” Samantha nodded and rested her jaw on her fist, “So you guys are always dressing like feds and getting into crime scenes that way?”
“Yep,” Sam said, “Or on special occasions we’ll be deputies or journalists”
“Well it must be nice to dress so dapper all the time,” she smiled.
“Eh, it’s a monkey suit…” Dean groaned, “You get tired of wearing the same suit all the time. But…” He mulled it over, “It doesn’t hurt when you want a lady’s attention.”
Samantha glanced away as he winked at her, too nervous to keep eye contact. She gathered from her time with the boys that Dean was the lady’s man, and was quite ‘experienced’. It intimidated her slightly and she couldn’t deny that.
“Speaking of hunting - I came across a possible case last night,” Samantha’s thoughts were pulled back into the conversation as Sam spoke. “I saw a big headline online about a few girls that went missing. Apparently they found their bodies drained of blood”
“A vampire case?” Samantha guessed.
Dean looked at her impressed, “Most likely. Where is this? It better not be over three hundred miles, I’m not in the mood for something far after going all the way to New York.”
“I’ll do you one better. It’s in Oak Hill, less than 200 miles away.
“Great, so when are we going?” Samantha perked up. The boys looked at her cute, proud smile and they both looked at each other with regret.
Dean grabbed his empty plate, about to put it in the sink. “Sam and I are going,”
“That’s nice that I’m going with you, Dean” She smirked right back at him and he faltered, realizing what she meant. “You-” He let out a sigh and put his dish in the sink, then came back over to the two of them. He looked between the two of them and ran a hand down his face. “You guys are gonna have to settle on your nicknames. I’m not gonna go crazy figuring out who’s who”
“Uh,” Sam let out a breath, amused, “I don’t think you’ll remember Dean. You call me Sam and Sammy all the time.”
Dean rolled his eyes and threw his head back. He looked at the young girl and pointed at her, “Girl-Sam,” then pointed at his brother, “Sam.”
Samantha chuckled and put her dish in the sink too. “So girl-Sam has to sit at home then?”
“Yes. I’ll get you settled and familiar with the rest of the bunker,” Dean grabbed her forearm and guided her out of the kitchen without another word like a child, “Come on, girl-Sam.” Sam laughed at his brother’s gruffness. He knew he was going to enjoy confusing him with another Sam in the bunker.
“This is the gun range, of course you won’t be using it anytime soon, but when you do - this is where it is” Dean leaned over and showed her where the targets were. “You stand here, the target is down there, and you try to hit a bulls-eye” He patted her back firmly and she jolted at the sudden strong contact, “O-oh. It’s kinda creepy down here, and dark.” She looked at the window and the goggles and headphones in the sling under it. “How do you guys get over there to get all the bullet casings and reset the targets?”
“There’s a door on the far side that opens to the other side, but, no need to show you that,” he grinned, folding his hands behind his back, “Next room”
She rolled her eyes and started walking. “You know I’m not a baby, Dean. I am an adult.”
“Oh just barely, princess. How old are you again?”
“I’m 22. Aren’t you like 30 or something?”
He scoffed, “Yeah I wish. Thanks for flattering me, I’m 37″
She blinked, “Oh, well you certainly don’t look it”
“Well maybe the secret to looking younger is dying a hundred times and coming back to life,” he smiled sarcastically and scoffed, “Sam and I have gone through so much crazy shit.”
“I know…you told me about some of it already…and I’m sorry by the way, for…all the hardships you two have gone through,” She looked up at him with remorse in her eyes, “I can’t begin to imagine all the torment you’ve suffered from what you told me.”
Dean’s brows furrowed slightly. He tried brushing it off like it was no big deal. “It’s alright, but this is why I don’t want you to get involved.”
Samantha’s eyes met the floor and she gulped. Juno’s barking was heard on the way out, followed by Sam’s heavy footsteps. They passed by the doorway and she saw Juno wag his tail and bark at Sam again, wanting to be chased. She giggled at that, especially when Sam’s laughter was heard echoing down the hall. Soon, they were both running past the gun range, and out of sight. “God damn,” Dean cracked a smile, “Your dog is gonna put my brother to work.”
“It looks like it,” she smiled and looked past the doorway and down the hall, “Huskies are very hyperactive. They love running around, but they mostly love pulling sleds in the snow”
“Ya know, I’m not a fan of dogs, but I gotta say, props to you for getting a real one. You’re smart to have him for protection.”
She pushed her hair back behind her ear, “Thanks. I’ve always grown up with huskies. They’re so beautiful - and like you said, protective, and strong. I love Juno a lot.” She crossed her arms and walked forward, heading into the map room in front of her. Dean sensed her uneasy behavior from a mile away, and chalked it up to her being a new roommate that’s not quite settled or familiar yet. He didn’t agree with the thought of her hunting, but he didn’t want her to be miserable here. He wanted her to be happy living in the bunker with them.
“The map room serves more as a coffee table. We also use the library, right down there, to do our research.” He pointed in the direction of the mahogany wood desk and the old book shelves.
“It looks really relaxing. I like it,” She smiled and walked over to the library. She went over to the desk, and ran her fingertips over the surface. The wood was polished and certainly wasn’t cheap. Her curiosity perked up as she went to pull out a random book from the shelf.
Dean touched the back of his neck with his hand, “I uh- I gotta go talk to Sammy about that case. Is there anything else you need me to point out?”
She thought for a moment and shook her head, “No, I don’t think so. At least not right now. I’ll stay here and read for a bit”
Dean nodded, “Okay. Just holler if you need me.” He left her in the library, where she sat and started to read. Juno soon found her and wagged his tail happily, and joined her at her side. “Hey boy, I think we’re gunna like it here.”
“But sir, I-”
“To the torture chambers with him”
“What?! No, no!” *poof* The guards teleported the sorry soul out of the thrown room, as the king had ordered.
That very king, looked over the list in his hand with a drawled sigh. Over 600 more sentences needed his approval today.
A woman, or demon in a woman’s meat suit, approached the king respectfully.
“Well I do hope you’ve got some interesting news for me,” King Crowley groaned with a hand over his face, clearly bored of his tedious duties.
“Yes, my Lord. I would like to inform you that we have almost everything we need for the spell you ordered”
“Really now…?” Crowley’s brows raised.
“Yes, we found all but these two items,” She handed him a small list with all of the crossed out ingredients, and the two that were missing. Upon seeing them, he immediately knew where he could find such items. “Thank you. You are dismissed.” He straightened up, fixed his collar, and rose from his seat. “I think I’ll be visiting a couple of lumberjacks...”
After some time, Samantha decided to go back to her room. The boys told her they’d go out on a supply run and would be back soon. With them gone, she took advantage of her time alone and got the rest of her things in order in her new living space.
She grabbed all her toiletries to put them in their proper place in the bathroom. Once she was completely satisfied, she got undressed to hop in the shower. Tossing her dirty clothes on the floor, she turned the nob to let the warm water pour over her skin. The bathroom filled with steam, and she got to work right away, feeling refreshed. As she scrubbed every inch of her body, the sweet smell of her shampoo and body wash consumed the entire room. The water fell over her hair and she fingered through it, getting all the knots out.
With a final rinse, she shut the water, and grabbed a towel, wrapping it around herself. Oh…damn. I should’ve brought some clean clothes in here. She sighed, and picked up her dirty clothes off the floor and exited the bathroom. She tossed them in a hamper and made her way down the hall, just as she heard her phone ringing.
Crowley stepped into the bunker and looked around him in the main room.
“Oh Deeean. Saaam,” he sang in singsong. He pursed his lips, looking back and forth. Strange. He felt their presence there earlier. Samantha followed the sound of her phone until it stopped ringing.
Samantha walked into the library, and she gasped. As she clutched her towel to her nude body, she stared at the stranger in the room with pure shock.
“My oh my…” Crowley’s deep voice drawled with a wicked grin, “Didn’t mean to catch you naked, darling.” Crowley’s eyes sauntered over her, taking in the doe eyed beauty, and the sheer look of panic on her delicate face. Her hair was still wet and matted to the sides of her face. “You must be a lady friend of the boys, am I right?” He grinned and smirked at her, “I guess one of them had to blow off some steam.” Samantha stood there frozen. She gulped, and felt her fist tighten around her towel, the only thing guarding her vulnerability. She could barely even register what he was saying to her. Her delicate voice stammered out, “W-who are you? What are you doing here?”
“Ah yes, where are my manners?” He snapped back to his senses and shook his head, “The name’s Crowley.” He strode over to her slowly, taking each step with caution. Her eyes locked on him incredulously, watching his every move. He stopped when he was a foot away from her, just close enough to analyze her up close. His hand reached for hers, “And to whom do I owe this pleasure?” He rose the back of her hand to his lips. Her body jolted from the unexpected polite gesture. His salt and pepper beard brushed against her skin. It was surprisingly soft. She swallowed and took her hand back “Samantha”
He smiled, “Samantha? Well, you share the same name as Moose. …Have you happened to see him, by chance?”
“Huh..?” Her brows furrowed as she tried to piece this together. She thinks that he knows Dean and Sam, but how could he have gotten in here? “Yeah…I have,” she said timidly, looking up through her lashes, “But- how did you get in here?”
“Demon” He shrugged his shoulders as if it were obvious, only making her feel uneasy inside. “They lowered their defense grid a while back so they could let me in,” He winked.
She took in a shaky breath and stammered, taking a step back, “B-but, how? They told me this place is completely warded off against those things…”
This made Crowley furrow his brows. So she wasn’t some girl either of them picked up at a bar. She clearly knew a little more about them. “How do you know about demons…?”
Before she could answer, Juno’s growl could be heard beside her. It was a threatening growl, and Juno advanced on the suited man and barked at him viciously. She was soon coming to terms of the situation, starting to believe he really was a demon.
“So you do know the boys.” He glanced down at the snarling husky and simply smoothed his hand on his head with ease, looking at him for a moment, and he calmed down instantly, going as far as to lick his hand as well. Samantha’s jaw dropped at the trick.
“What did you do to my dog?” She reached for her pup by his collar and hugged him to her protectively, but when she looked at him, he was perfectly fine and he licked her face. She looked up at Crowley confused.
“I assured him I meant no harm,” he spoke, “And the same goes for you too. The Winchesters and I are besties.”
“‘Besties,’ huh?” The girl ran her fingers through Juno’s fur for comfort.
Crowley squinted his eyes, and looked her up and down, “I think I can make the assumption that you’re more than just one of their pick ups for the night”
“I’m not either of their- ‘fuck buddies’,” she blushed, feeling embarrassed, “I’m just their friend…”
“So, I see. But a friend of the Winchesters is a friend of mine.”
She looked at him confused. “Oh yeah? And how can I trust you?” Crowley reached in his coat pocket. He fished out a picture of him and Dean and brought it to her attention. Samantha was pleasantly surprised he was telling the truth. Both of them were wearing cowboy hats with big smiles on their faces in a bar. “See, a friend of theirs is a friend of mine.” Samantha looked at the picture and her features softened, and looking at it a second time, she chuckled at the funny shot.
“I need something of theirs and clearly they’re not home,” Crowley explained, “Perhaps you’d be so kind as to help me? It’s important.” His eyes peered at her charmingly.
“Uh…umm…” She licked her lips, all of a sudden realizing how handsome this man really was - dressed in a well-tailored black suit and blue printed tie, his beard was full and the bit of gray in it made him look distinguished. The deviance in his honey colored eyes was something she couldn’t miss. “How about I put on some clothes,” she murmured.
“Don’t feel pressured that you need to, love,” His voice lowered a little, making her curse in her mind, “I’m quite comfortable with you like this”
“W-well I’m not. S-so just stay right there!” She pointed her finger at him like an angry cute little child would. “Hmph…”
He grinned, bearing his teeth. Even the King of Hell couldn’t deny the admirable tone of her voice coupled with the red in her cheeks. He put his hands up, showing compliance. When her back turned, he took his bottom lip between his teeth, and drank in her curves as she walked away.
She would’ve sent Juno to watch him, but knowing that he had powers over him, she decided not to. Without another word, she shuffled back to her room as quickly as she could and locked her door. Hurriedly, she dressed herself in a burgundy pullover sweatshirt, black leggings, and put on a pair of black slip-on shoes.
Juno groaned and laid on her bed, wagging his tail slowly and eyeing her. “Juno, I’ll take you out later.”
He talked back to her, softly, and stuffed his nose in the sheets with a final grunt.
She laughed and opened her door, with Juno shooting out of her room like a bullet. “HEY! JUNO!” He ran like crazy, stopping to pounce and look back at her while barking. She giggled and ran after him. Juno sniffed the floor and found Crowley again, and barked at him and sat by his side. Samantha stopped short, seeing Crowley pet Juno as he waited for her. “Fido likes to get things done. Coming?” He said so casually, as if him and the husky were waiting on her.
She nodded. Crowley led her to the lower level, the dungeon as Dean called it, where he figured these items would be.
“Wow…there’s a lot of files down here” Samantha looked around her and noticed a room across the hall filled with files just the same. “What did you need from the boys again?”
“Just some rare herbs, darling. And an old artifact of the Men of Letters. Daddy’s got a little business to take care of…” He murmured the last part to himself, thinking about the enemies he would soon be dealing with later that day. He continued to snoop around, throwing things haphazardly. Samantha walked into the other room, but didn’t think she could find any herbs in there or any old artifacts. She looked at the shelves and noticed something weird about the room. She could see a lot of floor space past the shelves, and it looked like they were hiding something. She tilted her head to the side and pushed them a little. The shelves slid and she pulled them, and they pulled out to the side. “Oh…what the hell?” She walked forward through the gap and saw a table in the middle of the room. There were a few handcuffs attached to the single chair at the table. The single spotlight in the room shining down hinted the true purpose of this hidden room… “Just imagine what it’d be like being locked up in this godforsaken hole for months on end…” His gravelly voice made her jump as she spun around to face him. He was inches from her face. “Can’t stretch your legs. No one to entertain you…It wouldn’t be fun. Trust me,” He sneered.
“How would you know? Have you ever been held up like that before?” She asked innocently.
He bit his lip and looked away, “You could say that…”
She brushed it off and went to look in the other storage room. Before she could walk away, he caught her arm. “How much do you really know about the Winchesters..?”
“Um..I mean they told me about monsters and hunting and stuff. They told me all about their past.”
His eyes narrowed and he cocked his head to the side ever so slightly. “Interesting…” He let go of her arm and followed her close behind. “So you’re the new ‘Winchester recruit’ for the ‘family business’,” he air-quoted, chuckling, “Funny, they aren’t ones to share their hunting lives with innocent people like yourself.” He pursed his lips, curious, “Killed anything yet?”
She fumbled through the contents of another storage room as he spoke, “No, I’m going to be on research duty for a while,” she shrugged sadly and crossed her arms, “But to be fair I’ve only been here two days.”
“It’s never too early to start,” he smirked, “Ah, there it is,” He picked up a small jar containing the familiar herbs, along with the small artifact on a shelf underneath it, “I knew the boys were hiding these somewhere…”
“Crowley?”
He turned and looked at her, standing before him with uneasiness in her eyes, “Since you’re a friend of their’s...and have probably known them much longer than I have,” she hesitated but met his eyes cautiously, “Have the boys done…bad things?”
He took a moment before answering, “Haven’t we all done bad things?”
“I mean like…evil bad things…killing innocent people and stuff like that”
He stepped towards her, “They haven’t when they were in their right mind, as far as I know. I’m more than sure you’re safe here” He winked, and took a step closer, “But, a word of advice- don’t feel selfish for doing things for your own survival, darling.” Her bangs hovered over her eyes as she peered at him, listening to him carefully.
Crowley’s ears perked up. His eyes glanced to the side, picking up on the sound of the front door of the bunker being opened. Samantha, being human, couldn’t hear, or sense it from this far below. “I’d love to stay and chat, but I’m needed somewhere else,” he said smoothly, distracting her and moving closer. “Thank you for your help, love.” Carefully, he trailed his finger along the side of her face, down to her jaw. “Till next time, darling”
And with that, he vanished in the blink of an eye. How did he...?
The way he disappeared, without even fading from view had her marveled. The boys had told her all about demons - their powers, their abilities - but meeting one herself felt indescribable. Nonetheless, it proved to be an entirely different experience…than what they had described it would be….
Hi everyone!
I realized I had to get a lot of technicalities correct, and review the overall story I have planned. I’ve decided the story will be set in about season 10.
I’ve had a sequence of events lined up in my head forever and I can’t wait to share it with you.
O/C: Drunken man from bar (Let’s call him Douchebag).
Warnings: Angst and attempted assault, but a fluffy ending.
A/N: The first Crowley fic to leave my draft box. I’m sorry if the assault scene is too intense or upsets anyone, but we needed an angry Fergus. Feedback is welcomed and appreciated.
Summary: The reader, finished with a hunt, stops at a bar for a drink. Attracting unwanted attention, Crowley saves the reader and knocks the douchebag down a peg.
“Come on, let me buy you a drink” the stranger said with vodka-fuelled breath.
You grimaced at his presence, intruding on your solitude and reflection of the day’s case. Being accident prone due to that cursed Fedora had left you feeling bruised and battered.
“No. Thank you.” You spoke sternly, but politely, hoping he’d get the message and walk away.
He lingered for a moment, swaying in the periphery of your vision, before he walked away and quietly muttered an insult under his breath.
Leaving the bar, you decided to walk to the closest supermarket to get some essentials for the boys, beer and pie being at the top of the list.
About two and a half minutes into your walk, you could hear another set of heavy footsteps a short distance behind you. You instinctively switched into hunt mode.
Quickly turning left down a narrow alley, you crouched beside a large dustbin and pulled the demon blade from your boot.
A figure of a man stopped at the alleyway entrance. Failing to see clearly in the dark, he took slow strides forward, scanning multiple objects that littered the alley.
He stopped just before the dustbin, able to see the dimly lit remainder of the alley. Thinking that you had gone, he turned around and sighed.
With his back turned, you decided to take control of the situation. You gently rose to your feet and tiptoed behind him.
Reaching the knife around his neck and pulling him backwards by his shoulders, you had him in a headlock.
Catching him by suprise, he let out a grunt as he squirmed from the knife’s sharp touch.
In your sternest tone, you questioned him. “Why are you following me?”
The man elbowed you in the chest, causing suprise and a spasmodic pain, which loosened your hold on him. He then spun around and instantly knocked the blade from your hand.
You had no time to react before he grabbed you by the throat and forced you against the cold brick wall.
The hand against your throat was harsh, restricting the majority of air flow and creating a pain in your spine that coursed through all the nerves in your body.
Your hands gripped his and tryed with no prevail to loosen his grip or the pain.
‘Think you’re too good for me, do you?’ the man snarled, as he took grip of your hands, prying them away from his.
He forced them above your head, closing the distance between you and him.
He whispered into your ear “we’ll see about that”, before withdrawing his tounge and running it from your collar bone to your jaw.
This repulsive act sent a shiver through you. Your hands pushed against his, in your attempt to break free, but the tighter grip of your throat and the stench of his breath instantly ceased the fight within you.
There was nothing you could do, unable to move or speak. He then pressed himself against you, his erection could be felt just above your hip.
Feeling a mixture of disgust, vulnerability and fear, you closed your eyes and silently prayed that someone… anyone would save you from this nightmare.
“Get your filthy hands off of her” you heard from behind the man.
Recognising the croaked voice of Crowley gave you a small sense of relief from the man’s terrifying hold.
The man flew backwards as Crowley dragged him by his collar.
Free from his grip, you fell to the ground as your weak legs gave way and oxygen flowed freely, but weakly back to your lungs.
You watched through blurred eyes as Crowley snapped the man’s arm with a click of his fingers.
His cry of agony pierced your ears, causing you to cover them.
Crowley’s voice was now muffled, but sounded furious as he broke the man’s leg with another finger click.
The man fell to his knees with a now muffled scream, before looking up with an unashamed smirk on his face.
This made Crowley squint his eyes in contempt and fury, before lunging a punch to the man’s face, rendering him unconscious.
(*Lucifer not included*)
His attention was now fully on you. He could see your scared and broken demeanour as you sat with your legs curled and your head sheilded by your arms.
He called your name softly as he approached and crouched in front of you.
You dropped your arms and raised your eyes up to meet his, noticing the shine of his black shoes, the pinstriped fabric around his bent knees and his matching red tie and pocket square.
Knowing that your defenses had been demolished, he simply gave you an understanding smile and extended his hand for you to take.
This friendly gesture and his timely intervention soothed your distress.
Reaching out and placing your hand in his, the warm touch gave you a feeling of comfort.
His hand enclosed yours and gently pulled your arm as he rose to his feet.
Following his pull, you stood up and felt the weakness of your legs as you used his hold to balance yourself.
A whispered “thank you” came from your lips. You had always considered Crowley a friend, but his proudly reserved nature had never shown an act of true, unmotivated kindness, until now.
Your eyes averted from his, to his swollen red knuckles and then down to the man’s unmoved body. Never before had you been so defenceless or terrified in all of your years of hunting.
The fact that a human being did this, and not a supernatural creature, stirred up feelings of embarrassment and incompetence.
You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, trying to hold back a flood of rising emotions.
Letting go of Crowley’s hand, you rested your forehead against his chest and embraced him in a desperate hug, wrapping your arms around his back.
You could smell the intoxicating aroma of cologne on his jacket which repressed the lump in your throat and stopped the rising tears.
Crowley was stunned by your actions at first, holding his arms outwards, not sure what to do.
He felt anxious as he wavered his hands, wanting to comfort you, but unsure of whether you’d be welcoming to the contact.
You felt his chest deflate as he placed a hand on the crown of your head.
“It’s okay darling, I’ve got you” he spoke softly. His fingers slid and intertwined through your hair as his other hand rested on your upper back, completing the embrace.
You both relished the feeling of the hug. This being an act of affection that didn’t occur very often in either of your lives.
The embrace continued as the seconds flew by, now totalling a full minute.
You felt Crowley lean in as he placed a soft kiss to the top of your head. You could feel the slight pressure of his stubble, interrupting the all-consuming pull of his scent and cudliness.
You pulled your head up and looked at him, seeing embarrassment but a predominant air of curiosity upon on his face.
You welcomed (and have kind of always wanted) this affection from him. You didn’t want him to feel embarrassed or unappreciated for letting his guard down, so you gave him a reassuring smile and tiptoed to kiss his cheek.
This caused his eyes to widen and a smile to creep upon his face, as he shot his eyes down to you.
Seeing his expressively enlightened face made you return a happy grin. You focused on the intensity of light that projected from his deep, mahogany eyes.
Crowley then raised his hands to cup your cheeks, using both thumbs to gently wipe the corners of your puffy eyes.
He studied your face, shifting from your eyes, down to your mouth and back up again. A look of appreciation was portrayed as a small hum left his throat.
Adjusting his hands to the back of your head, he gently pulled you to his shoulder.
“Let’s get you home to Moose and Squirell, shall we darling?”
You gave a noise of agreement, with your face plushed against his suit jacket, blissfully forgetful of where you were standing.
Crowley took in a deep breath, reluctant to part with you but reassuring himself that this wasn’t the last he’d see of you.
He focused on the destination of the bunker, landing you both at the entrance, unable to pass the warding.
“This is where I leave you dear. In the somewhat capable hands of the boys” he awkwardly joked.
You shared a chuckle and a lingering gaze before he continued. “If you want, I won’t mention this night to the moron twins”.
You gave an appreciative nod before he pulled you into a final hug.
“Take care of yourself darling” he gently advised. He stepped away from the embrace and vanished before you.
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