could i request cralt in a full-on fantasy or elemental setting?
I was going to make a joke about fairies but i thought that would be offensive so here you go.
Trigger Warning: Fairy Racism and some foul language
Glittering Fairy Dust was still sprinkling to the ground as Crowley sat up, clutching his jaw in pain and hazel eyes glaring up at the brutish Pixie who’d dragged him down here just to decked him.
“Stay away from my sister, Sprite,” the pixie warned. “We don’t want none of your kind nesting in this village.”
“Sprites don’t nest,” Crowley snapped, and it earned him a swift kick to the gut which hit with enough violence that it knocked his acorn cap from his head and sent it rolling off the edge of the branch to the forest floor. Crowley groaned, more out of frustration than his bruised abdomen, and stayed curled where he was until the Pixie zipped off into the higher branches of Oak Tree, holding back bitter tears as he realised how much his face and abdomen hurt.
When he was sure the Pixie had gone, Crowley sat up and held his middle for a moment, sniffling. He refused to cry, not even when he was alone. “Fucking Pixies,” he growled, and brought his left wing around to his front to straighten out the the feathers that had been bent when he’d been knocked to the floor.
He hadn’t even spoken to that Pixie’s sister for more than a few moments, asking directions to the new berry shop that had opened recently. He hadn’t insulted her or been rude, not even by Fairy Standards, and Fairies had more manners and etiquette rules than any of the Fae Folk.
“It’s not fair,” he muttered. smoothing out the last of his feathers. He hugged his knees to his chest and curled his wings around his shoulders and head, finding solitude in the quiet thrumming of his pulse through his wings as he let himself cry, just for a little while.
Fingers combing through his hair pulled him from his solitude and he tensed, ready to snap at whoever was touching him.
“I kept waiting for you at the berry market but you never showed up,” it was Halt, and he sounded as deadpan as always. “Where’s your cap?”
“Lost it,” Crowley snapped. He didn’t need Halt to worry about him, he could take care of himself. “I’ll buy a new one tomorrow.”
He could sense Halt raising an eyebrow. “Does your lost cap and bent feathers have anything to do with each other?” Halt asked, and Crowley knew then that Halt knew something. Halt always knew when something was wrong, and he had an uncanny ability to guess what it was almost perfectly.
“I asked a pixie girl for directions to the berry market after I got lost,” Crowley admitted. “Her brother thought I was flirting with her, and he brought me down here to beat me up away from the guards. I lost my cap in the fight when he kicked me.”
“Were you flirting with her?” Crowley’s head snapped up at the question, and he knew almost immediately that it was Halt’s way of goading him out from behind his wings because as soon as his head came up, his Fairy boyfriend lunged forward and kissed him.
Like always, Halt tasted like honey and blueberries, and something that was so unique that Crowley has only been able to narrow down to the taste of Fairy Dust, metallic and soft all at the same time.
“You’re sweet,” Crowley said as they separated, and Halt smiled at him. For a moment, the younger Fae looked sad, and then kissed Crowley again, this time softer, and then tucked his head under Crowley’s chin and wrapped his arms, and silk soft wings, around Crowley’s chest and shoulders.
“I don’t care that you’re a Sprite,” Halt muttered. Crowley wasn’t shocked at the statement, Halt had said it to him countless times, when Crowley’s own doubts had bubbled to the surface during arguments and fights and even time spent too long apart.
Crowley hugged Halt back, arms and wings practically clinging to the smaller Fae as he felt tears stinging behind his eyes.
