Summary: Crowley comforts you in your last moments
Warnings: angst, heartbreaking angst
WC: 505
A/N: title used as a prompt from this Challenge of mine
thanks to my beta reader @mermaidxatxheart ilysm <3
Read on ao3!
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It always rained where you met him.
Maybe it was just coincidence. Or maybe the sky knew that something about Crowley—the King of Hell, the dealmaker, the devil in a sharp suit—softened when he was near you. And rain… rain was soft, in its own way. Rain felt like home.
You sat at the edge of an old motel bed, legs swinging off the side, eyes fixed on the streaked window. The storm outside matched the one in your chest.
You were dying. Not in the poetic way people say when they’re heartbroken. No—your body was failing. Slowly. Quietly. And no spell, no sigil, no deal had worked.
Not even his.
“I could rip apart Heaven and Hell for you,” he had said, voice barely above a growl. “But apparently… some things are still off the bloody table.”
And now he stood at the door, watching you like he always did when he thought you were asleep. Like looking too long might curse him. Or save him.
You turned, reaching out a hand.
“Don’t just stand there like a ghost,” you whispered. “Come here.”
He crossed the room in three strides. Always dramatic. Always fast when it was you. Everything mattered when it came to you.
Crowley knelt before you, hands cradling your knees like you were something breakable—like maybe you already had. He was always gentle with you.
“I thought I had time,” he murmured, voice tight, rough around the edges. “Should’ve known better. Time is a vicious thing. It's so cruel that humans are so vulnerable.”
“So are you,” you said, brushing your fingers through his hair. “But not with me.”
He smiled. It was crooked. Sad. “No. Never with you.”
You slid off the bed, curling into his lap. The floor was cold. His arms were colder. But somehow, it was the warmest place in the world.
You buried your face in his neck, breath shallow now, barely there. “Do you think… when it happens… I’ll see you again?”
Crowley exhaled like the words carved into him. “If there’s any justice in this world, you won’t.”
You looked up, eyes shining with something softer than fear.
“I want to.”
That broke him.
He held you tighter, like he could barter your life back just by keeping you close. Like death wouldn’t dare take you from his arms.
“Then I’ll find you,” he whispered. “Wherever you go, whatever form you take—I’ll find you, love. I swear by it.”
Silence fell between you, thick and tender. Outside, thunder rolled in the distance. But inside?
There was only the sound of rain.
And the soft, steady breath of a demon holding onto a heartbeat that was almost gone.
Death is quiet when you hold me, you wanted to say.
But by then, your eyes had already closed.
And Crowley, for the first time in centuries, prayed.
As Y/N and Crowley prepare to host the Winchesters for a family dinner, Crowley struggles to remember just why the Winchesters and he despise one another so much.
Crowley swirled his drink in its heavy crystal glass, the sound of ice clinking against glass almost meditative for him. He took a slow sip as he walked from his study heading down the hall towards the kitchen.
He tried to ignore the twist in his gut as he took another slow sip, a frown crossing his features at the sense of unease that had been hanging over him lately.
He had hoped that the lazy morning he’d had with Y/N might ease any discomfort he’d been experiencing lately but it seemed that a sensation of dread and uncertainty was ever present in the deep recesses of his mind constantly nagging him.
He took another sip from his drink enjoying the slow burn of the alcohol hoping that it would help ease his mind or at the very least dull his nerves.
He made his way to the kitchen leaning against the door frame, his eyes landing on Y/N; his wife staring down at a carefully constructed pie on the kitchen cabinet. She didn’t notice his presence, she hyper focused on putting the final touches on the cherry pie she was preparing.
The sight of her baking would usually bring him comfort, the sight of her doing something she was passionate about always giving him joy.
He usually always took pleasure in watching her bake. He’d even attempted to bake with her a few times but his results were disappointing and clumpy more often than not. He had very much enjoyed reaping the benefits of her baking though. She’d spoiled him throughout their relationship with fresh baked cinnamon scones and delicate little berry tarts.
At the moment, he found the sight of her baking to be less soothing than usual.
Crowley couldn’t help but to pout just the slightest mentally grumbling that she was putting far too much fuss into something meant for Dean Winchester.
The man was not worth all the effort she was putting into every facet of this meal. Neither of the Winchesters were worth the trouble she was going through in preparing this dinner.
Her eldest brother was a pain in Crowley’s ass…well the younger Winchester brother was also quite the pain, but still. Dean was a particularly bothersome and vocal pain in Crowley’s personal opinion.
Dean was far mouthier than Sam though Crowley knew both brothers were equally as impulsive and quick to hit first, ask questions later. The Winchester boys were quick to anger and not shy about acting on that rage.
Crowley, of course, knew that he was just as guilty of being quite quick to anger. He was not so unaware of his own imperfections that he would deny his own terrible temper.
Needless to say, both the Winchesters' tempers and Crowley’s own temper tended to meet and the results were explosive, much to Y/N’s distress.
Her distress over his interactions with her brothers had been the source of more than its fair share of guilt and regret for Crowley. As hard as he tried to quell his temper when it came to her brothers, he could not quite bite his tongue. It had created a cycle of arguments between the Winchesters and he, Y/N getting rightfully fed up with it, and Crowley groveling to apologize to her for his part in the disagreements.
Crowley had become a frequent flyer at the florists shop closest to their home having taken a habit of buying bouquets of lilies and peonies for his wife as part of an attempt at an apology anytime I let himself lose his temper and get into yet another verbal spat with the Winchesters.
He knew the Winchester brothers were less than fond of him and he wouldn’t lie and try to pretend that the feeling was not mutual.
He had tried to squash down his dislike for the brothers, but they made it so difficult. He could not fight against his nature it seemed.
Crowley could admit that at times he compared his wife to her brothers and was left feeling puzzled.
The boys were far less delightful than their lovely sister. Crowley could not quite understand how someone as charming and enticingly beautiful as Y/N could possibly share the same genetics with uncouth albeit handsome denim clad nightmares like the Winchester brothers.
He frowned, unable to clearly place when exactly the distaste for one another had started for the Winchesters and himself. It strangely felt almost as though there was a dense mental block in his brain when he attempted to really dig too deep into the source behind the animosity between the Winchester brothers and himself.
He was uncertain if he could fully explain or reason as to why they must have such a strong aversion to him.
He could not explain what about him might be so loathsome that the brothers would hate him so dearly. He knew that he could be arrogant and he was not the most patient man. He knew he could be intense, but that didn’t seem like enough of a reason to hate him. He knew he was not always known for having the cleanest most moral past though he could not quite place what about his past had been so wicked.
He couldn’t place what he might have done to earn the Winchester brothers’ disgust and contempt. Something told him that he’d done several truly awful things but his mind struggled to comprehend what exactly those things could be.
His memories of any past interactions he may have had with the brothers seemed fuzzy at best.
Crowley took another sip from his beverage mentally grappling with the possible source of the hostility between his brother-in-laws and himself.
He clinked the ice cubes in his glass again searching his memories, only one standing out that perhaps explained the core of the issue.
He was almost stunned by how clear the memory seemed. He allowed it to wash over him; the memory seeming so incredibly fresh as though it had happened so recently and not years before.
The studio apartment felt cozy despite the lack of space leading to a sense of the area being a little cluttered.
Most of the furniture had been thrift store finds but it somehow managed to be cohesive enough. Y/N had clearly done the work with her small budget to make the space seem like a home.
Y/N had seemed almost embarrassed the first time she’d invited Crowley back to her place. She was almost certain that her little studio apartment was less than impressive when compared to the penthouses and estates Crowley was accustomed to living in.
Crowley had found that he enjoyed the apartment despite the lack of space and the mismatched furniture, though he had a feeling his enjoyment had more to do with the woman who called the space home than the space itself.
He managed to navigate his way around the ornate wood divider Y/N had used to give some sense of separation between her living area and the space she devoted to her bedroom.
He felt his heart swell with an unfamiliar but welcome sense of adoration as he spotted Y/N sitting up in her bed, the soft lilac bed sheets pushed down just enough to reveal the fact that she’d changed into the black dress shirt Crowley had ditched earlier in the evening.
He had to sense that he could become easily accustomed to the sight of her wearing his clothing. It was a truly beautiful sight. It was a clear reflection of who she belonged to.
She looked up at him, a drowsy smile crossing her features as he slid into bed beside her. He handed over the bottle of water, he’d left bed to get in the first place, over to her. She thanked him as she opened it taking a slow sip.
He placed his own bottle of water on her bedside table as he settled down into bed beside her. He found he did not mind how the small bed forced him to press close against her.
The bed was a far cry from the large lavish king size bed he was accustomed to but he had zero complaints.
The sleepovers in Y/N’s studio apartment were a new development in their growing relationship. The relationship had grown serious much to Crowley’s delight. Crowley had been determined to make it clear to her that he did not view everything that had been happening between them as some sort of fling for him to enjoy while was in Lawrence on business.
Y/N had been surprised that she trusted him enough to pursue this with him. She had not had many experiences with romance that went well and didn’t end in disappointment.
Crowley had made a point of spending the night at her place as their relationship became intimate. He had to think that taking her back to the extended stay hotel, he’d been practically living in since he’d arrived in Lawrence, just felt cheap.
Taking her to a hotel at night and inevitably having sex at said hotel just felt a little too much like fling territory and less like the serious romantic relationship he had worked so hard to sink into with Y/N.
He had found that entering a relationship with her was an unfamiliar world for him. He’d had a few less than fully serious girlfriends over the years but mostly he kept to quick flings with no strings attached.
He’d been married to his work not really finding anyone who he clicked with enough to want more from a partner than just a non committed means to work out sexual frustration.
He’d rather begrudgingly accepted the belief that perhaps love was not meant for him. He’d maybe even accepted the notion that he might not be entirely deserving of the love he longed for. Love had seemed to elude him his entire life it seemed. After a while it had just felt easier to accept lust without any love attached to it. Relationships were never deep for him.
There was something about Y/N though that made him want to change his approach to relationships. She had clicked with him. He was almost certain it had been love at first sight though before meeting her he would claim that he was unsure if he fully believed in such a thing.
All he knew was that she had fascinated him in ways no other had ever managed. He’d wanted her from the moment he met her and Crowley was determined to get exactly what he wanted by any means necessary.
Y/N had somehow proved to him that everyone was deserving of love, including him.
He was determined to navigate his way through an emotional environment he was not entirely comfortable with if it meant having her.
He knew that they would have to decide how to approach all of this when his time in Kansas came to an end, but he was hopeful that she was willing to let things between them continue to build even when it was time for him to return home and distance became a barrier.
He was unable to stop himself from reaching out for her his hand sliding along her leg to caress her thigh as she settled down into bed beside him, ditching her bottle of water on her own bedside table.
Crowley pulled her leg up to hook around his thigh. He ran his hand along her hip, a soft pleased groan leaving his lips at the lack of clothing underneath the dress shirt she’d borrowed from him. He was tempted to see if he could sweet-talk her into ditching the article of clothing, but she looked so perfect in it that he could not force himself to talk her out of wearing it.
She was so soft, smooth, and lovely. She felt magnificent against him, and he found that he was almost certain he could remain here in her bed forever pressed to her side. Or better yet he could spend forever with her pinned underneath him he pressed between her parted thighs his cock buried so deep inside of her the both of them lost in blinding pleasure. No one felt quite like her and he only hoped he made her feel as incredible as he felt during their moments of intimacy. He always felt such a boost to his already inflated ego any time he pleased her in the bedroom. He could imagine burying himself in her taking pleasure within her and giving it back to her tenfold. She would run her hands along his body caressing him as he loved her occasionally digging her nails into his back earning a deep groan and hiss from him. He'd take her so slowly and gently until she begged for more and he'd give her everything and more. He would take her so roughly that her headboard would slam against the thin walls properly pissing off her neighbors. She would take it all loving the treatment. He knew when it was all over, he'd rest just enough to take her again slowly and sensually appreciating every second of their coupling.
He'd always prided his stamina but had never realized just how great it seemed to be until he'd used it with her.
He resisted the urge to fully fall back into the lust that had overtaken them earlier this evening. He knew that they had been in the middle of a particularly deep conversation prior to his leaving the bed to get them something to drink.
He managed to find the words as she snuggled up against him, her arm wrapping around his waist. “Your brothers are that overprotective, Darling?”
She let out a small huff rolling her eyes ever so slightly. “Let’s just say there was a reason I didn’t manage to get my first kiss until I was well into my final year of high school…and the poor guy seemed terrified once he realized just who my brothers were. Dean wasn’t exactly subtle when he picked me up from school and spotted the poor kid giving me moon-eyes. Pretty sure Sammy ratted on me and notified Dean I had a guy interested in me. One death glare from my dear eldest brother and my suiter started to avoid me like the plague. Don’t even get me started on how long it took me to actually lose my virginity…that’s an even more pathetic story.”
She sighed, shaking her head ever so slightly forcing herself to say the words out loud though she was so rarely willing to acknowledge the truth. “It’s my dad’s fault in some ways…me being so behind when it comes to relationships. He always made me Dean’s responsibility…in a way I guess I somehow became Sam’s responsibility by extension. I might be the middle child, but sometimes it feels like they treat me like the baby of the family. For some reason my father assumed I needed extra care. I guess he bought into that old fashioned idea that the men of the family needed to take care of the only girl. Now my godfather…Bobby he always tried to give me a little more credit. Bobby always treated me like I was capable, but my dad never gave me the same allowances. My dad tried to raise me the only way he knew how…He taught me some good things…self defense, resilience, and fighting back for what I thought was right. He wasn’t so great at the emotional stuff though. He tried but I think he wasn’t sure how to really connect. Our bonding consisted of him teaching me to fire a gun and throw a punch…once I entered my preteens I started to get interested in things he couldn’t relate to…my hormonal teenage years were less than awesome living surrounded by guys who didn’t quite understand… I think once I hit puberty and it became clear to my dad that I was not a third son, he didn’t know what to do with me.”
She paused again, her stomach turning at the frown that crossed Crowley’s features. How many times had she seen that exact expression when she tried to explain her family’s odd dynamics to outsiders?
She felt her stomach turn all the more as Crowley spoke, unable to stop himself from being honest. “That doesn’t seem fair, Love. You weren’t any less capable than your brothers.”
Y/N cleared her throat more than accustomed to shrugging off this observation. “Life isn’t fair”.
She paused, spotting his frown grow all the deeper he clearly was not approving of her response. She spoke again a soft sigh leaving her uncertain if she was digging her own grave by going too deep into her family history and trauma. “My dad was…complicated. I know he loved my brothers and me, but he was just…broken. My mother’s death really screwed him up and I guess…hurt people hurt other people. I think he just couldn’t handle it most of the time, life after Mary Winchester. She was his soulmate and losing her was like losing a chunk of himself. He didn’t know how to function without her. He just was mad at the world for taking my mom. He was angry and it almost felt like he was out for revenge…revenge against who or what I’m not certain. He sometimes failed to remember that he still had my brothers and me left… My brothers tried to pick up the slack and make up for it, but that means they went into overkill when it came to thinking they had to look out for me and coddle me. They showed love by being overbearing pains in the butt. In a lot of ways I’m sure my father fed the overkill. I was a pretty constant reminder of my mother, me being the only daughter. I guess…they all lost my mother so they feared losing the only other girl in their life too. I had to play mom more often than not growing up…sewing buttons and patches on to their clothes, baking birthday cakes, being the mediator when they got on each others’ nerves, and patching up injuries from whatever scraps they managed to get in. I tried to show my love for them through acts of care. I think it just made them all the more certain I was this soft little thing that needed to be protected from the world. After my dad died, my brothers just became all the more overbearing. We became orphans and I guess it just fed into the fear of losing each other.”
Crowley felt his heart twist, having already heard the stories about how both of her parents had passed; her mother in a house fire when she was a toddler and her father in a tragic hunting accident a few years ago.
He was tempted to point out to her that the cause of her brother’s overbearing tendencies did not seem to justify the behavior but he bit back the words knowing it would have to be a conversation for another time.
He was also tempted to point out that her father’s grief was no excuse for his failures as a parent but he knew that would be an even larger messier can of worms that he would be wise not to open.
She snuggled all the closer to him trying hard not to make it obvious that she felt herself clinging so desperately to him. She had to hope and pray to whoever might be listening that her explanation about her complicated family dynamics didn’t scare the one decent man, who had seemed interested in her, away.
Her brothers had managed to scare off far less worthy men. Men who showed her any ounce of attention never lasted once Dean and Sam came around. As much as she loved Dean and Sam, they were awful for her love life.
Her fears were quickly squashed as Crowley spoke a small humorless laugh escaping him. “So, I’m hearing I have a lot of work to do when it comes to winning over the family.”
He paused, clearing his throat before speaking again pointing out the words that Y/N did not seem to be saying. “I’m assuming I most likely won’t ever win the boys over. Those brothers of yours will most likely never accept me being in your life.”
She gave him a small weak smile, hating that she was having to admit it. “I don’t think they’ll like any guy I bring home. It’s not a you thing; it’s all them”.
She felt her fears over the reaction she was anticipating from her brothers regarding the changes in her romantic life fade as Crowley’s lips slid along hers. His kiss was brief as he spoke so certain of his words. “I won’t take it too personally then. I have zero intention of avoiding you like the plague just because your brothers don’t approve, Love. Don’t think there’s much that could keep me from you.”
He bit back the words he wanted to add on to that comment: I love you.
He bit his tongue telling himself now wasn’t the time for the words. He was quite sure his first declaration of love should come at a far more romantic time than him trying to reassure her that he could handle her brothers.
He couldn’t stop himself from pulling her all the closer to him though mentally telling himself that the words were true. He loved her and no one was going to push him away from her.
Crowley found his mind shift from the memory, a sigh leaving him knowing that he’d been right to predict that he was not going to win over the Winchesters.
Dean and Sam had seemed to take a firm stance of disapproval when it came to him. They hated him at first sight it seemed.
Crowley told himself that the fact they were overprotective nutcases when it came to their sister was the sole reason behind their dislike of him.
A voice in the back of his head told him that the reason behind their disdain of him went much deeper than that and that he was not seeing the full picture. He did not have time to dive deeper into the thought, the sound of Y/N’s voice pulling him from ruminating over the nagging voice in the back of his head.
“Can you please check the oven? I think we can probably pull the rolls out and get this pie in.”
He obediently entered the room placing his drink on the kitchen counter before he did exactly as she asked of him.
He spoke a heavy sigh leaving him as he found hot mats removing the fresh baked yeast rolls from the oven for her and smoothly placing them in the warming tray below the oven. “I still say you are putting too much fuss into this, Darling. I know you’re trying to have a nice family dinner, but I’m sure the boys would have survived with less fretting over this meal.”
Y/N shrugged her shoulders seemingly not minding the observation as she made her final touch on dessert. “I know, but I just want tonight to run as smoothly as possible. I’m hoping a good meal will soften the blow of any of the usual drama. Maybe if I stuff them with food they’ll be less of a pain. Maybe full bellies will keep everyone from losing their temper.”
Crowley twisted his lips, tempted to claim that Dean and Sam were the source of all the drama, but he knew he was just as guilty of antagonizing the pair.
He tried to avoid stirring the pot of course, only for Y/N’s sake, but he just couldn’t keep his lips sealed no matter how hard he tried. He found he couldn’t shut up especially when the boys started in on the overprotective nonsense they usually threw out when it came to their sister.
He found the brothers all too self righteous and all knowing when it came to their sister. They acted as though they knew so much more than her about the world. He found himself frustrated by the lack of respect they seemed to give her. They did not respect her as a grown married woman who owned her own business.
They treated her like a child and seemed to be under the impression that Crowley had the worst intentions with her despite the evidence that he adored her.
Crowley and Y/N had been together for well over five years. They’d survived navigating a long distance relationship and had persevered through the first year of marriage. They had survived a miscarriage and the awful feelings it had brought. They’d gone through the process of desperately trying to get pregnant again. They had built a home together. They took vacations and celebrated holidays together. They’d had a happy marriage all and all.
They had proved to be a united front in just about every aspect of their lives, but Dean and Sam still treated their marriage as an annoyance that they were forced to tolerate but never fully accept.
Crowley couldn’t help but to be offended on his wife’s behalf. She might try to shrug off her brother’s overprotective tendencies and disrespect. It seemed she was always trying to justify it as a dysfunctional way to show love, but Crowley had to feel that it was his place as her husband to defend her when her brothers started in on her and/or their marriage.
She deserved better and it seemed her meathead brothers had broken her down and convinced her to accept their behavior.
They might love her but Crowley didn’t think they respected her.
He cleared his throat, taking the pie from her and placing it in the oven trying to find the words to reassure her. “I’m sure our big news will soften the tediousness of any of the usual song and dance the boys are known for.”
She gave him a soft crooked smile, having to hope that he was right. Perhaps the promise of a new member of the family would make her brothers finally snap out of their usual bullshit when it came to her life choices.
Crowley spoke again, shaking his head unable to stop himself from saying it as he shut the oven door. “They’ll have to start treating you like an adult eventually. You have been self-sufficient for a long while now, Y/N. It’s time they start treating you as such. You’re my wife and they don’t respect my place as your husband which I’ve willingly tolerated. Now you’re going to be someone’s mother and I refuse to be forced to tolerate the possibility of your brothers disrespecting that. It’s now or never when it comes to finally acknowledging you are fully within your right to live your life the way you want to. I know your brothers will always want to protect you, but it’s time they take a step back and realize that you are capable of protecting yourself. They need to acknowledge that when you fail to protect yourself then I’ll be there to make sure you’re safe. I’m your husband and it’s my responsibility to look out for you. They need to understand that we’re a team, Love. I am not going anywhere and it’s time they accept it. I honestly don’t care if they ever accept me at this point. I do care that they at least give you the decency of respecting our choices, all of them, not just the choices you made involving loving me.”
Y/N let out a soft sigh knowing he was right. She knew though that it was one thing to know the truth but another thing entirely to explain the cold hard truth to her brothers.
Crowley turned to face her wrapping an arm around her waist as he spoke, she leaning into his embrace. “I can’t tolerate their treatment of you much longer, Darling. I love you, I’ve tried my best to follow your lead here, but we’re going to be parents. I can’t stand the disrespect any longer. This won’t impact just us anymore. There’s a third party here now that needs us to provide a peaceful home. The boys need to wake up and see that you’ve formed a family beyond them. Like it or not, I’m part of that family. I don’t expect them to love me, but I would like them to at least back off and accept that I am part of your life. They don’t have to like me but I need them to do more than just barely tolerate me, if not just for your sake but for our child’s sake as well. They need to respect you enough to put some effort into accepting us and the family we’re building, Love.”
She let out a soft sigh knowing he was right. It wasn’t fair to him; expecting him to smile and bear the disapproval. This environment wouldn’t be fair for their child.
Her child should not be forced to bear disapproval.
She had hoped that after celebrating more than one year of marriage to Crowley that perhaps her brothers would realize that this was not some phase for her, but it seemed that Dean and Sam treated Crowley as some inconvenience who they just had to barely tolerate.
She did not understand how Crowley had been so endlessly patient when it came to the baggage she brought along with her in this relationship.
He truly had far more patience than he claimed to possess.
“I know you're right. I know they aren’t being fair more often than not. I don’t want this kid to be raised with that crap hanging over him or her. I don’t want our baby to live with any sense that their uncles just create tension. I love my brothers and want them to have a relationship with our child. I just want more for this kid. I want our kid to have better than we had growing up. I don’t want them to ever know loneliness or dysfunction. I just want them to know their family loves them. I don’t want our kid to see my brothers treating you terribly and think it’s okay. I love you and I want that to be respected. You’re right, it's now or never. Sam and Dean have to learn to respect the choices I’ve made for my life because at the end of the day it’s my life not theirs.” She stated leaning into his touch, taking comfort in the warmth that seemed to radiate from him as he began to stroke her back.
He always felt so pleasant and warm to curl up against. Being held by him felt like being wrapped in a cozy blanket fresh from the dryer.
He ran his hands up and down her sides taking in the same comfort in her embrace. She fit against him perfectly as though she was made to fit to his form.
He let out a soft content sigh enjoying the way the light cotton fabric of the pale pink sundress she wore slid against his palms. The dress fit against her body in the loveliest way possible. The empire waist showed off her assets while managing to hide the slight fullness that had begun to develop along her belly.
He had to adore when she sported one of the sweet little sundresses in her vast collection. He knew she was quite fond of the dresses. He knew just why she loved them.
She’d grown up wearing Dean’s hand-me-downs for far longer than was probably socially appropriate. When she grew out of the clothes then they went to Sam. They were always a little worse for wear by the time they reached Sam.
Wearing Dean’s old clothing had lasted for Y/N until a well meaning female friend of her father’s had stepped in and pointed out to John Winchester that his preteen daughter was experiencing some changes in her body that would make wearing Dean’s old clothes not entirely appropriate for much longer.
Her father had allowed this female friend to take Y/N out to buy the necessary training bra and had allowed a trip to a thrift store to actually buy clothing Y/N could call her own. She had taken to the dresses falling in love with them knowing it was never an option for her before when she was stuck in Dean’s old jeans and t-shirts.
When Y/N had turned fifteen she l had taken a job at an ice cream parlor which allowed Dean and Sam the occasional free scoop of ice cream and more importantly the budget to buy her own clothing. It may have been clothes off the clearance rack at Walmart but to her it had been luxurious.
Crowley could admit that knowing this about her had maybe encouraged him to slip her his debit card and attempt to coax her into buying herself whatever pretty little dress, perfumes, jewelry, and lacy undergarments she wanted…though she still loved a good clearance rack.
Crowley continued to slide his hands along her body appreciating every inch of her he could reach.
He was unable to stop himself from sliding his lips along her jawline, the scratch of his beard against her delicate skin making a soft sigh escape her.
She wrapped her arms around him, tracing his back and soaking up his affection, easily melting against his touch.
He ran his lips along her neck nipping and sucking at the soft skin fully aware and pleased he was more than likely leaving love bites in his wake.
He managed to maneuver her over to a clear clean spot on the kitchen island, his hands sliding down to her thighs giving them a gentle tap. She took the hint allowing him to lift her up to sit on the counter he spread her legs easily finding a place between her parted thighs.
She wrapped her arms and legs around him scooting to the edge of the counter he supporting her against him.
He continued to suck at the delicate skin along her neck, his voice muffled but filled with reverence for her. “Gorgeous love, my Darling, so fucking perfect.”
She whimpered against his praise and the sensation of his lips, tongue, and the scratch of his beard.
She closed her eyes, sinking into the hot lovely sense of lust washing over her. Crowley always seemed to know her body and exactly what she desired. She was not the most sexually experienced prior to him but she was certain he was by far the most skilled and passionate lover she’d ever known.
She was always so astonished that he seemed so in awe of her. He looked at her with such absolute devotion at times and it took her breath away. She almost felt as though she should be the one in awe of him, the sophisticated, intelligent and successful man who had somehow taken interest in a simple girl from Kansas with overprotective brothers and a struggling little bakery.
He pressed his lips along her collar bone, his hands caressing her thighs, her arms still wrapped tight around him trusting him to keep her from crashing to the floor.
His lips pressed to the swell of her cleavage pulling the front of the dress down enough to allow him more access. The bra she was wearing and the slight changes pregnancy already seemed to be bringing to this particular feature of her body made it far too tempting to resist worshiping her breasts. Although he’d always been extremely fond of this feature as well as just about every inch of her body.
He was quite certain that he could happily spend hours pressing his lips to every square inch of her body. He had found that he could not get enough of her. He was addicted to her it seemed and it was utter bliss just being in her presence. Being able to touch her and kiss her was euphoric.
He resisted the temptation to lower one of the cups of her bra and treat himself to being able to worship her breasts without any barriers in his path.
She gasped his hips grinding against her lace covered center, his slacks not hiding the interest the lower region of his body was beginning to show in their current activity. He enjoyed the friction, a groan leaving him the deep noise muffling against her skin.
She parted her lips prepared to gasp his name and cry out praises of her own, but another voice interrupted the lustful moment they’d sunken into.
“Oh, God, I think I’m gonna be sick.”
Crowley parted from her, reluctantly lowering her down to stand back on the floor. She felt her cheeks flush more from embarrassment than arousal as she attempted to pull her dress back up Crowley remaining in front of her to give her privacy from her thoroughly disturbed and intrusive brothers.
Dean stared at the couple, disgust written across his features and Sam avoided gazing at the pair looking as though he wanted to sink into the floor and disappear.
Crowley spoke, unable to keep the snark from his voice. “We have a doorbell. Maybe if you didn’t barge in without ringing it you’d be spared from things you don’t want to witness,”
Dean spoke just as quick to respond with his own snarky tone. “Well excuse me your majesty. I didn’t know I had to ask permission to enter my sister’s home.”
Crowley glared wanting to bark out that it was his home as well but he felt his mind hang on to the phrase “your majesty” why did that title spark something deep in the recesses of his mind even as it was said with sarcasm?
He didn’t have time to focus on the thought as Y/N spoke distracting him, she said the words he had meant to say in a much more diplomatic tone. “Dean, it’s not just my house. We gave you both a spare key just for emergencies. You really can’t just barge in like this without at least knocking first.”
“Yeah, well the door wasn’t locked.” Dean replied Crowley rolling his eyes wanting to state that that wasn’t the point.
He found himself wishing he’d let Juliet in from the backyard. The dog would have been less welcoming to intruders who didn’t bother knocking before entering.
Sam stepped forward apparently snapping out of his trauma long enough to sense he better step in before the conversation grew more heated. “We brought wine.”
Y/N gave Crowley’s chest a reassuring pat as she stepped around him attempting to hide any embarrassment she still felt being interrupted by her brothers during an intimate moment. “Thanks, Sammy.”
She took the wine making brief eye contact with her husband, hoping neither brother would notice that she didn’t have a glass of wine with dinner. She would much rather sink into her pregnancy news a little slower than blurting it out as a means to explain her abstaining from a beverage she might usually enjoy.
Crowley watched her place the wine on the cabinet before returning back to his side, he wrapping an arm around her the move subtly possessive. She pressed a kiss to his cheek Crowley not missing the rolled eyes the act of affection earned from Dean.
Crowley took a deep breath attempting to quell his annoyance. He had the sense that this was going to be a long miserable evening.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
I haven't written fic in soooooo long and gee it feels good. Thinking about taking requests... would anyone be interested?
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Good Omens (TV)
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Relationships: Crowley (Good Omens)/Reader, Crowley (Good Omens) & Reader
Characters: Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale (Good Omens)
Additional Tags: Angst, Hurt, Comfort, Smut, Emotional Damage, all aboard the pain train, Crowley Likes To Fuck, Crowley Is A Sadboi, Reader Comforts Crowley, One Shot
Summary:
‘Crowley, I don’t think this is such a good idea, you’re… you’ve just… you’re not thinking straight.’
He cupped your cheek with his hand, and you did everything to stop yourself from leaning into it.
‘I know, I just… please darling, I just need to feel something other than… than this.’
You let out a shaky breath, your heart breaking for the Demon. He needs you, you know.
You closed your eyes and touched your forehead to his, ‘Okay.’
Imagine being Sam and Dean's little sister and in love with Crowley. So, when the king of hell asks you for help you oblige. Despite your brothers telling you how stupid that is.
Dean: there is not enough salt in the world to protect us from the hell you're trying to unleash. Sam, please talk some sense into her.
Y/N: oh don't be such a worrywart big bro. The demon and I go way back! *winks*
*Sam & Dean stare at each other confused, while you laugh and continue your plan*
The room was filled with demonkind, art, and fire. It was beautiful. When Crowley invited you, he said it was the “Met Gala of Hell” and that everyone would be wearing clothes that could compare to art.
“I had no idea that demons enjoyed art this much.” You whispered to Crowley as you observed the large painting in front of you.
“Why not, Love? I have extremely particular tastes. And high standards. Have you not seen the art that’s been by my side all night.” He grinned
Imagine Crowley getting a needy vibe from the reader and finding it cute how shy they are about it.
They always said to keep the person that knows your wordless thoughts, but the way Crowley knew everything inside the gates of your mind was crazy scary. He knew your exact thoughts word for word and could pinpoint the cause of a bad mood like a hawk can target a mouse multiple feet about the ground. Sometimes it was a blessing but others it was a curse.
"Hm, darling..." Crowley smirked. "What are you doing over there all alone?"
Your small eyes peaked over the small pillow you were hugging. "Nothing. Sitting."
"Get over here."
"What? Why?" Somewhere inside your head you knew it wasn't a request but rather a demand. The question was out of your mouth before you could stop yourself, though.
"Because you want affection but won't ask for it."
Heat rushed to your face. "Do not!"
"Come on, darling. Don't play coy.."
Pointless, that's what it was. It was like fighting a losing battle trying to convince him other wise. Quickly, your head shot down, the computer packed into your skull making the floor seem entertaining. A finger hooked under your chin and directed your gaze to him.
"Don't be shy...even though that blush brings out the color of your eyes." Crowley smiled as he tucked a piece of hair behind your now blood red ear. Jerking you into his lap, he held you flush against him. "Daddy knows what his babygirl needs."
Warnings: my inability to write anything other than fluff I’M SORRY
Word Count: 322
“Where are the goddamn instructions? Isn’t there some kind of chip you can just insert in my brain or something? Crowley, stop laughing, you’re not helping here.”
A small eye roll, a chuckle and a smirk from Crowley was all it took for you to slam the brakes. Not that it mattered, you were practically standing still already.
“Hey, it’s not often I get to drive with a learner. Cut me some slack,” he said with a smirk. “I didn’t even know witches could take away one’s ability to drive”
“What is it that you do know exactly?”
Your comeback made him chuckle again and even you giggled at how automatic your response had been. The fact still stood though; a witch had cast a spell on you which led to you not being able to drive cars anymore. It was like you never learned to begin with, hence you drive like a real beginner. Sometimes you try to start the car with the third gear in and sometimes you apply gas when you don’t even have a one in. These were rookie mistakes which you made, yet you had been driving for several years before this.
Crowley would always laugh at this, but only for so long. He saw the frustration in your eyes and on your face and he knew you wanted nothing more than to regain your certainty on the road.
“Hey, Y/N, you took your license once and you’ll do it again.” The demon in the passenger seat looked your way and caught your eyes once again. “Just be patient.”
A small sigh escaped your lips as you turned to look ahead of you from where you sat in the car at the side of the road, then you turned your eyes back to him. “I love you, thanks for bearing with me.”
So my brother’s cat in lying in the middle of my bed right now (while I’m still in bed may I add) and I had this idea. I know I’ve not been posting but I’ll see how things go after this.
Crowley x reader
No specified gender
Warning for swearing
Cutesy hellhounds
-----
You moaned quietly to yourself as you woke. Last night had been great, but you were so fucking tired. You stretched your arms and went to sit up, but quickly found that that wouldn’t be happening anytime soon. You looked down to see a massive Hellhound lying right across the middle of your bed, over the top of both Crowley and yourself - pinning you both at your thighs. Well damn.
A slightly closer inspection led you to realise that the Hellhound was Juliet - fair enough, she was very protective of you both, and tended to stick closer to you than any of the others, but this was new, and slightly strange.
You rubbed your eyes then nudged Crowley, “Are you awake?” you whispered, knowing that Juliet certainly wasn’t. “Crowley” you hissed, gently giving him a shove.
“Hmm, what is it, Love?” His voice was rough from sleep. He blinked sleepily, then tried to roll over to you - and found that he couldn’t. He blinked again, frowning, “What’s...?”
You smiled at the tired look of confusion on his face, “Juliet”
“Juliet?” You pointed down at the Hellhound on your laps. He looked, “Ah”
“Could you please move the guard dog, my King?” you said, teasingly.
Crowley half sat up, as much as he was capable of anyway, “Juliet?” he called sweetly, “Juliet?” But he got no reaction. “Juliet, here girl” he called again, a little louder.
Ooft.
She rolled over onto her other side to face the two of you, her tail thumping off the duvet as she saw you were both awake. If it had been any normal dog, there would be no issue - push the damn thing down and your problem would have been solved. Now, you did love Juliet, and Growley too - they were loyal dogs - but they just so happened to be at least twice the size of a fucking great dane!
“Juliet” you groaned. She let out a loud ‘arrf’, sat up and started panting, her tongue lolling out of her mouth. You shook your head.
“Juliet, come here - come to daddy” you laughed for a moment a Crowley’s attempt, before you saw Juliet get to her feet. Yes! Then she plonked herself down right between Crowley and you. NO!
Juliet gave Crowley an affectionate lick up his face before turning and flopping her head down on your chest. You groaned, your ribs being crushed under the sudden weight. Crowley wiped his face with his hands, his expression ever so slight disgusted. You looked down at Juliet - sharp teeth, flaming red eyes with sleek black fur - the easiest way to differentiate her from Growley, who’s fur was thick and shaggy - you had the sudden urge to want anyone else on earth to have to wake up to the giant monster on their bed. Not that you though of the surprisingly sweet hound as a real monster.
“This is your fault” you groaned at Crowley.
He looked scandalised, “My fault? How is this my fault?”
“Don’t think I don’t know that you let them up on the bed while I’m away - I always find their hairs on my pillow, you idiot” you huffed. Truth be told you weren’t that bothered about them getting up on the bed, but you were bothered about them napping on top of you!
He didn’t have much in the way of a come back to that one - “...Growley started it”
You turned your head dramatically to look at him, “What?”
“You were away one night and he came up to the side of the bed and kept nudging me so I let him up, then Juliet just jumped up next to him - now they just go up anytime your not there.”
“I think you’re missing a key fact there hun - I am here!”
“Sorry?” he offered, knowing he was in at least a little trouble.
You sighed, patting Juliet’s head. You spoke to her, “Where’s your partner in crime then? Go on, where is he?” Then a large shaggy head popped up at the bottom of your bed, “There you are, Growley - right, come up here boy”
“Oh no-” was all Crowley managed to get out before the other huge Hellhound leapt up onto the bed and flopped down on top of him, slobbering all over his face. “Ah! Help, please, Y/N! Help! Damn bloody dogs!”
You laughed, still patting Juliet, “That’s what you fucking get”
