Genre/Tropes: Hurt/Comfort. Can be read as platonic or romantic.
Summary: Alchemy can be so overwhelming, but if there's anyone you can trust to help you with your current state it's Ruggie.
Author's Comments: This has descriptions of panic attacks! Please tread carefully. Also I took the approach of a reader that finds touch grounded when having a panic attack since I've written a few pieces before were reader is very much no touching!! This oneshot is featuring an unusually soft Grim because I feel like we don't see the side of him that genuinely cares about MC enough.
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You weren’t sure what happened.
One second you were fine, mixing ingredients with Grim and Floyd as a part of your alchemy class. The next thing you know, Ace and Deuce began fighting near the cauldron next to you, causing Floyd to be distracted and knock over a vial of some weird herb. You could only try to salvage what you could of your work as the two began yelling. Floyd egged them on and the fumes of your ruined potion stunk up the room, overwhelming your senses. The yelling made your eardrums ring as you struggled for breath, your head growing gradually hotter. It was only a matter of time before Crewel dragged the three troublemakers to the front of the classroom, leaving you hunched down beside your cauldron. Grim looked genuinely concerned, his paws petting your face gently and it took you a minute to realize that you were crying.
“Hey, Teach!” a familiar voice called, “I think the Ramshackle Prefect got hit by something. They don’t look too good. Can I bring them to the infirmary?”
You didn’t hear the professor’s response over the sound of your pounding heart, but it must have been affirmative since the mystery person swung your left arm over their shoulders and lifted you up off the ground.
“Come on, work with me here. Getting you out of this environment will make things better, I promise.” he grunted, helping you to the blurry classroom door.
It wasn’t until you were out in the corridor that you found the strength to peel your other hand away from your face. Hunched down in front of you was none other than Ruggie Bucchi, his eyes staring into yours.
“Are you breathing alright?” he asked, placing a hand on the floor to hold himself up as he tilted his head to get a better look at you.
You shook your head frantically, taking large gulps of air. Ruggie moved closer to you, brushing his fingers against your hand.
“Is this okay?”
You nodded.
He brought your hand up to his chest, placing it right over his heart.
“I want you to breathe with me, okay?” he whispered, giving you a few moments to get used to the contact before he sucked in a deep breath.
You tried to match his pace for a few breaths, trying to rein yourself back in when you felt your breath speed up again. Ruggie was incredibly patient with you, his breathing remaining steady. His rhythm stayed constant even as you finally came down from hyperventilating.
He gave you a few more seconds of recovery before he spoke again.
“Can you speak?” he whispered, sitting down on the carpeted floor.
“Yes.” you mumbled, tearing your gaze away from him.
Grim had been uncharacteristically quiet throughout this entire exchange, but you could still feel his paws pressed to your arm. The show of concern warmed your heart—Grim was usually far more demanding and harsh when he was with you, but deep down maybe even he could be soft.
“Do you want to stay here? I can walk with you if not. We can walk around the school or go straight to the infirmary.”
You were so thankful Ruggie seemed to know what to do in this situation. He was keeping his distance, constantly checking your body over for any signs of discomfort.
“I want to get away from here.” you reached out for him, finally raising your head to meet his gaze.
“Okay.” he grabbed your hand, helping you to your feet, “Do you think you can walk on your own? If you’re still shaky I can help you.”
“I think I’ll be fine...but can you keep holding me?” you asked, wrapping your other arm around his.
“Of course. Just let me know if you need anything, okay?” Ruggie squeezed your hand gently.
You were in a daze as you walked with him, your eyes unfocused. His eyes were focused on the wall ahead of you, his pace never wavering.
“We’re here.” Ruggie removed his hand from yours and pressed it to your back.
You registered your knees hitting a cot before Ruggie lifted you up. You jerked a bit, startled as he laid you down with unexpected gentleness. You finally made eye contact with him as he slipped his hands out from under you. There was a moment of silence within the infirmary as he pulled up a chair and sat at your bedside.
“Can I get you anything?” Ruggie mumbled, crossing his arms on your cot as he rested his head on them.
“You’re being...unusually serious.” you hummed, trying to lighten the serious mood you weren't accustomed to with Ruggie of all people.
Ruggie snorted, “Well, you’re definitely more relaxed now. I’m glad, seeing you all panicked was creepy.”
You rolled your eyes, deciding to spare Ruggie from commenting on how his eyebrows were still furrowed with worry. The boy in question lunged forward and ruffled your hair. You whacked his hand away and he winced playfully, holding the hand close to his heart.
“You wound me, Prefect! And here I was, about to make you some tea. It’ll cost you ten thaumarks now!” he laughed, eyes narrowing at you.
“Ruggie...that’s an outrageous price for tea. Even if you’re the one that made it.” you sighed, slamming your head back onto the pillow.
“Aww, are you saying my tea is worth at least nine thaumarks?” Ruggie turned away, starting to make his way back towards the door, “I’ll be right back Prefect, I’m just going to the cafeteria. You hang tight.”
“Ruggie...you don’t have to. I feel a lot better since I’m out of that environment.” you acknowledged Grim climbing into your lap with a soft pet on his head.
“If it’s about paying me, don’t worry. This is on the house.” Ruggie shot you one last smile before he disappeared from your view.
“Hey...are you okay? I can’t have my henchman going out of commission on me.” Grim finally spoke up the second Ruggie left the room, his blue eyes filled with worry.
“I’m okay Grim. You don’t need to worry about me.” you scratched behind his ears affectionately.
“I wasn’t worried! You just looked so freaked out and...and I don’t know who else would do my bidding if you were troubled!” Grim had bounced back because of your confirmation, his normal smug expression returning, “Now keep scratching me! I don’t remember telling you that you could stop.”
“Right, right.” you hummed, your previously muddled brain slowing to soft waves of calm thoughts.
It wasn’t long before Ruggie came back, a small tray in his hands. You sat up in bed again, watching his entrance with a smile.
“Someone’s happy to see me.” he teased, placing the tray in your lap, "I decided to make some chamomile tea for you to help with your stress! I wouldn't want you to be stressed out so much you have a panic attack again.”
“Thank you, Ruggie. I don't know what I would've done if you hadn't dragged me out of there.” you gently picked up the teacup, taking a small breath, “And I know that sounds cheesy so please don't laugh at me.”
Ruggie was silent for a few beats before he chuckled, placing his hand on your shoulder and rubbing gently.
“Hey, we take care of each other around here, alright? You needed me. And the next time I need someone to do me a favor, I expect you to follow through!” he laughed, but he made no move to leave your side.
“Of course.” you rolled your eyes, amused, “I've never let you down before.”
It always gave Mammon a fucking heart attack to find you curled up here or there when he wasn’t expecting it. He found you in his room, constantly, whenever you felt like you needed to hide.
You never tell him whenever you do it; you knew he wouldn’t be able to lie to any of his brothers if they came looking.
He knew full well why you were doing it. He could get that being in a house of scary demons could be too much to handle for their precious human, sometimes. Of course you’d tuck yourself into the safety of the Great Mammon’s room. He was the second eldest for a reason; if push came to shove, he could easily knock his little brothers heads together.
He really did love his brothers, but Father knew how much he wanted them to back off sometimes.
It was a dream. You’d walked these steps, you’d seen that gate, so, so many times. The end result was always the same- bones snapping, your neck bending at an angel it was never meant to bend. All as you looked into Belphegor’s joyful eyes.
Finally opening your eyes, gasping for breath, only to still see his looking into yours-
It was enough to have your foot slamming into his gut, throwing yourself out of bed with Belphie as your launchpad.
Belphegor let you go, significantly more awake than he was moments prior. You hadn’t realized you were speaking, but the breathless chant of, “no no no no,” as you ran was enough to keep him from chasing your panicked ass down.
He didn’t mind scaring you a little at this point, every now and then- it was funny to see you jump out of your skin when he quietly stood behind you in the hall at school or around the house- but he didn’t want this. Not anymore. He’d had his fill- and this was part of the consequences of having it.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The slam of Mammon’s car door and the chirp of its lock has him throwing on sweats, cursing in the dark when he stumbled over clutter- cursing again when his car lights blinded him.
Still blinking spots out of his eyes- stupid human looking shell- he tugged on the door handle. It didn’t budge.
That pushed whatever exhaustion he was feeling out of his head. Peering into the window, he could see you curled against the opposite door, back towards his door.
There was a distinct ‘click’, and Mammon was sliding into the car before you could look up. He closes the door behind him, but he doesn't quite sit down. It's more of an awkward hunch with him bending at the knees to shave off his height. It'd look almost comical if he wasn't as tensed like a spring and angry enough to have waves of it radiating off him.
“What’s wrong?” He tried to keep his voice even. Despite that, it still sounded loud in the quiet of the car.
“Um, uh,” That was weird; you could have sworn you’d gotten your breathing in control as you sniffled again. “Bad dream- woke up to Belphie.” You don't need to tell him what that bad dream was about.
“The fuck was he doing in your room?” Mammon barely spoke above a whisper, but he could feel his mouth starting to curl into a snarl.
“Uh, well,” you took a deep, shuttery breath, trying to get your voice under control. If only you could take a normal deep breath; you just couldn’t get enough air. “He w-wanted to s-spend more time with me, a-and he w-wanted t-to ha-ve”, you take a pause for another gasping breath, determined to finish your thought. “-to have the same relationship as I-I do with the r-rest of you.”
Mammon’s stiff in his seat. He couldn’t take his eyes off of you as you tried, you tried so hard, to regain some amount of composure. Mammon remains still, utterly torn between tearing out of the car to rip Belphie a new one, and aggressively suppressing the urge to scoop you into his arms and comfort you- tucking you somewhere safe-
His bed, his traitorous thoughts whispered, wrapping you in his big plush comforter and holding you close to his heart, so you knew you’d be safe-
He tore his gaze away from your shaking form and turned, tugging at the door growling, “Well, he doesn’t. You can pretend ya don’t have survival instincts all you want, human, but that sadistic asshole knows damn well how you dirt sculptures rewire yourselves around scary shit.” The car’s still locked, and he doesn’t want to break the door down and scare you more. Mammon puts his hands up and grips at the car roof, taking a deep breath through his nostrils.
He hadn’t noticed he’d shifted- he wanted to give Belphegor a taste of Lucifer’s favorite punishments, bastard should have been nowhere near your room- until you made him practically jump out of his constructed skin by throwing yourself at him, arms wrapping around his shoulders.
Reflexively, he’s pulling you upward- trying to keep you from falling and managing to twist your ankle, or something- picking you up with a grunt of surprise. You’re shaking in his arms, wracked with unwanted sobs, but you hold on to Mammon firmly.
“Breathe.” He tries to sound firm, stern even, like Lucifer might, but it comes out so soft. “An’ unlock the car. I need ta talk to my little brother.”
You don’t do either of these things. Well, you’re still breathing, but you don’t take a moment to collect yourself. No, you cling to him a little harder, burying your face in his neck, saying “W-wait. Please, can we j-ust stay? …Like this?”
Even if your voice hadn’t broken, even if you weren’t shaking and gasping for breath through tears, that wasn’t a request Mammon had any hope of denying.
He slowly sinks down against the car door, one hand cradling the back of your head. Oh so carefully, he wraps his wings around you, tucking you even closer to his heart. Mammon’s almost thankful you’re too preoccupied to notice its hammering. Almost.
It isn’t until your breathing evens out and deepens that Mammon lets out a deep breath, content. He gives himself a bit of time to observe your sleeping face, relaxed, cute, sweet, before he joins you in sleep.
A/N: Crowley fluff, panic attacks. This was written for @mrs-squirrel-chester’s Album Challenge. I chose the Album, “Ash & Ice” by the Kills. This is inspired by the song, “Echo Home” which is the twelfth song on the album. This was also written for @letsgetoutalive’s Mental Health Awareness Challenge with the prompt, panic attack.The reader’s negative thoughts and Crowley’s telepathic conversations are in italics. The reader has a panic attack and Crowley is there to help.
You were wounded. You had barely made it out alive. But you were headed home.
You were driving on auto-pilot, only one thing at the forefront of your mind: your ineptitude. It didn’t matter that you’d saved the kidnapped couple, that you’d rid their tiny town of monsters. You just couldn’t shake it, the thought that Sam and Dean would be handling this so much better. And not just the hunt - these feelings, these doubts mangled your thoughts in the aftermath.
You should’ve remembered that you were just one person, and they were two. You should’ve remembered that they had years and countless experiences on you. You should’ve. But this was a dark day, and on these days, none of that mattered.
“Dean was right. You had no business going off on your own. You fucked up. Yeah, you all researched for this hunt. But you were the one thinking you were ready, that you could do a solo hunt. You’ll never be ready. You’ll always be the little annoying sidekick to the Winchesters. You shouldn’t delude yourself with ideas of grandeur. You should turn back now and go get a real job. Now that you’ve messed up, you’ll have to tell the boys, and how do you think they’ll react? They’ll kick you out. You’re a liability. You’re useless. Yes, you took out three monsters but only by the skin of your teeth. They need people they can trust. They’ll yell at you and be mean like everyone else. They’ll see you like the fragile little eighteen-year-old girl you are.”
Tears were streaming down your cheeks. The negative thoughts in your head were too loud today. You had to pull over and get out of the car. Your body was heating up. You couldn’t drive like this. Your hands were shaking as you opened the door. You gulped in cold air, hoping it would cool you, but still you remained too warm.
“No. No, this cannot be happening now. I just need to focus, get back to the bunker and go straight to bed.
Sweat dripped down your back and your pulse raced. You felt like you were having palpitations. There was a pressure mounting in your head. You tried to move but you were unsteady, dizzy even. The negative thoughts kept coming and coming. One thought stood out above all the rest.
“You are a horrible hunter and you don’t deserve to hunt with the Winchesters.”
Your breathing was labored and with each passing second, it got harder to breathe. It was as if something was blocking your airway. What was it? You couldn’t make yourself breathe. And if you couldn’t breathe, you’d be dead soon.
What a cruel twist of fate, to survive the hunt just to die now, here, on the side of a road. You weren’t getting enough air. You felt faint. Your legs were wobbly and you slumped down onto the pavement, gravel digging into your knees. You started to panic even more as you wracked your brain, trying to figure how to save yourself. Driving back to the bunker was out. The boys coming to you was also out. They were too far away and while they could assuage your fears, afterwards there would be a barrage of questions and guilt and emotional outbursts. You could call an ambulance but being a hunter, insurance was an issue. And it would take them a while to find you on the road. You could be dead by then. You needed help NOW. Your only real options were Crowley and Castiel. If you called Cas, he would just alert the boys and he’d be fussing and hovering over you. Then there was Crowley. He had given you his number after all. You did have a huge crush on him though and were a bit nervous calling him but he was your best option. Taking a deep breath you texted Crowley.
Crowley was listening to demons prattle on when the theme song for Rocky and Bullwinkle went off. He had programmed that as a text message alert for you, Sam and Dean. Curious, he fished out his phone, ignoring the looks from his demons.
When he noticed it was you, he happily clicked ‘read’ but was confused and slightly nervous when he saw the only word written was “help.” He didn’t waste any more time, and appearing in front of you in a second. He looked you up and down, noting a large gash on your side and lacerations to your back. You were clearly in distress, and gasping for air, but he had no idea what was going on. He entered your mind and picked up on two phrases you kept repeating over and over again, “I’m dying! Help!”
“Stay here, Pet. Getting help.”
Crowley had never experienced panic attacks when he was human, and his demons would be of no help. He wasn’t likely to ask the Winchesters for help, so he did the next best thing, possessing a doctor from a nearby hospital. He rifled through the doctor’s brain until he found information on panic attacks, then left promptly.
Crowley materialized in front of you. He slowly crouched down to your level. Then looked at you, keeping his gaze soft and his tone gentle and reassuring.
“Okay, love. The first thing you need to do is relax. I know that seems impossible right now, but I’m here. The King of Hell is here and there is no way I am letting you die. You just feel like you’re dying. You hear me? I assure you that you are, and you will be okay. Now you trust me, right?”
You nodded.
“Then let’s take a breath of that cool night air. You must be so hot. Let’s get some air in your lungs. Breathe in as slowly and deeply as you can. Concentrate on each breath, imagine the air going into your mouth, traveling down your throat and going into your lungs. Imagine your lungs expanding with the air. See the air going into your lungs. Now try that again. Keep imagining the air going inside your body.”
Crowley reached out and held your hand squeezing it to remind you that you weren’t alone in this.
“Close your eyes and think about nothing else but my voice. The voice of someone who cares about you deeply. I don’t give my number to just any girl. Now I want you to count back from 102 by threes. I know it seems a strange thing to ask, but you’ll just have to trust me. And we’ll do it together.”
By the time you got to three, your breathing was already starting to improve. You were beginning to understand the purpose of the counting. Your mind had no time to focus on what was freaking you out. Counting backwards took all your concentration. Your heart was still beating fast and your breathing was still a bit labored, but better.
“Good work dove. Now let’s talk about why you had a panic attack in the first place.”
“I went on a hunt. Shouldn’t have been anything out of the ordinary. And it turned out there was a couple that needed help. But instead of one monster, there were three. I didn’t notice it until I was already in the building. I snuck in, weapon in hand like the guys taught me, and I thought everything was fine - til I turned around, and saw I was surrounded. I made it out alive. I saved the couple. But I nearly got myself killed.”
“It was three to one, and you won?”
“Yeah.”
“I’d say that was a good hunt, no? Most hunters can’t take on three of anything by themselves. They’d call for backup and if they couldn’t, they’d be dead. But you, darling, you survived! That’s very impressive, love. You should be happy about that.”
Your cheeks started to flush at his praise. It was impressive, actually.
“Is there more?”
“Yes. It was my first hunt. Sam and Dean were hesitant about letting me go but said yes because they thought I could protect myself. And then I almost died! I make a horrible hunter. I’m just a liability to them. I don’t deserve to hunt. Next time I might actually die. I’m useless.”
“I’m going to stop you right there. You’re not useless, Pet. This was your first hunt, and you didn’t die - that’s the takeaway message. You saved the couple. You can’t compare yourself to Sam and Dean. They’ve been hunting since childhood! Look, you have only being hunting for one year and you are doing a great job. It’s their fault for not at least waiting in the car. This was your first solo hunt and you didn’t have backup. That’s on them.”
He gave you a few moments to think about what he’d said before speaking again.
“What would you tell a friend to do if she was feeling this way?”
You sat there and thought for a bit. You imagined your bestie in your old life coming to you with this.
“I’d tell her what you said. That she made it out alive and that it was only her first hunt. That she’ll get better as time goes on.”
“Who knows, maybe the first hunt Dean was on, he messed up and had to have daddy dearest clean it up for him. No one is perfect when to comes to hunting. Hunting is a skill you learn and acquire over years. No one is born being able to hunt other creatures. There is always a learning curve, dove. The Winchesters taught you well, though. You survived, after all. But if you’d like, I can try and find you a martial arts trainer or a combat trainer. I can even arrange a meeting so you can speak with my surveillance team. They are very best at tracking, better than human hunter. My demons won’t be happy but I’m the King so they’ll just have to accept it.”
The truth of his words struck you. It was like a cloud was lifted in your mind and the truth was coming out like sun after a rainstorm. It hunting was a skill, you simply needed more practice.
You were beyond touched and a bit shocked that Crowley was offering his assistance, his resources to you. You had to admit - it just might be a good idea. You could learn surveillance and combat skills from demons, directly from the enemy. You could learn how they think. That could be more beneficial than Crowley might even realize.
Crowley could see the wheels turning in your mind. Your breathing was close to normal now. He’d actually helped you. He was ecstatic that he could help you. That you trusted him enough to believe the words he was saying to you.
The demon was beginning to realize how deeply he cared for you, and it was killing him to see you broken like that on the ground. He desperately wanted to hold you. But he had one last question to ask.
“What do you want to do now?
“I don’t want to go back to the bunker just yet.”
Crowley tried to hide his smirk. You wanted to be with him. He would keep you safe from everything. This was his chance to take care of you and show you just what being with him could mean.
“I don’t think I’m ready to face the Winchesters and their questions. I think I want to take a little break from hunting. Be around people I care about. And maybe pick up a few skills from your demons, gain some confidence before I go back.”
“People you care about like whom?”
“Like the man who, I’m guessing, dropped an important meeting to attend to his human. Thank you, by the way.”
“You’re my human?”
“If you’ll have me.”
Crowley didn’t wait another second to grab your face and plant his lips on yours. His kiss was deep and insistent. With a flourish, he snapped his fingers, teleporting you both to Hell. He held you close in his arms as you drifted off to sleep, exhausted but relieved. This was going to be one hell of a break from hunting.
