#Crowley can’t talk about his feelings

[winterrain-11]

Drinking on a Sunday Afternoon

Inspired by a comic by @hollisartsblog

Crowley was — as he was most Sunday nights — piss drunk. He thought it a harmless way to spite the Almighty in a way that wouldn’t earn him accolades in hell. Plus, he got to be inebriated, which was always a fun time along with letting him feel a bit more human.

Aziraphale occasionally joined him — not in the blasphemy aspect, but in the inconsequential indulgence. Plus, Sundays were their date nights (they had finally started calling them dates recently, after around 80 years of having weekly fine-dining excursions, it was impossible NOT to see them as dates) and they usually started lightly drinking at dinner either way. Sooner or later, a bottle of shared Pinot Noir turned into two, then an added whiskey back at the bookshop, then a few weeks later two whiskeys and so it continued.

This particular night, the pair had drank several glasses of sherry at a local Italian restaurant a few blocks from A.Z. Fell & Co on their recent spout of acquainting themselves with the local businesses. (this was all the Angel’s idea of course, but it brought a smile to Aziraphale’s face and that was all it needed to do to drag Crowley along). After a few hours of banter and a few spilled glasses, they were properly tipsy. The two stumbled along the dimly lit Soho sidewalk, leaning on one another and laughing at long forgotten jokes, hands intertwined with one another.

Back at the bookshop, Crowley immediately sauntered towards the liquor cabinet, pulling out a still-sealed bottle of a dark bourbon like one would pull a rabbit out from a hat. Aziraphale let out a noise that could only be described as a groan of hesitant enthusiasm, slouching back further onto the old leather couch he had made his way onto.

“Eh?” Crowley did a drunken little jig, the contents of the bottle sloshing around as he attempted to gain the Angel’s approval, “Wha’d'ya say, Angel?”

“Oh,” Aziraphale sighed, a slight smile forming on his lips, “I don’t see why not. Give ‘er here, dear boy.”

The Angel conjured two whiskey glasses with the wave of a hand, taking the bottle from the Demon, who had thrown himself onto the couch next to Aziraphale, legs swinging up and over the arm of it and his own arm draped around his Angel. He poured them both a glass, Crowley prompting a silent toast as he raised his glass with a smirk before downing the liquor along with Aziraphale.

One glass turned to two, then three, and halfway through this third glass is where Aziraphale stopped. Crowley continued on, the Angel – though satisfied himself – not wanting to snuff his Demon’s fun.

~~

A few hours later, Aziraphale was slouched further down the couch, still sweating from the alcohol, feeling heavy and slow within his inebriation. Crowley, however, was currently trying not to spill his fifth glass and failing at being coherent.

“C’mon, y’know, the… the thing!” Crowley slurred, elbowing Aziraphale, “”s the bugger’s name? The fucking – the thing!”

Aziraphale, having not a single clue what ‘the thing’ could be, moved the Demon’s hand from his shoulder, “Dear, I think you should sober up a bit.”

“Nah,” Crowley pulled Aziraphale close into a side hug, the Angel’s shoulders scrunching up to his ears as he was shaken like a sickly, extremely intoxicated maraca, “Nah, ‘aving fun here with you.”

Aziraphale cracked an uncomfortable smile, “That’s very kind, dear. But no more to drink for you. Shall we possibly call it a night?”

“Agh, Angel, the fun was just beginning!” the Demon hissed, moving his hand to graze Aziraphale’s jaw with this thumb.

Aziraphale raised his brow, confused but intrigued by the gesture. Before he could respond, Crowley began again, “You’re dashing, you know that? Always loved that bow tie of yours. Compliments your eyes.”

Aziraphale scoffed, lazily shooing the Demon with his hand and he turned to hide his blush, “Oh hush, you old serpent. When did you become a sentimental drunk?”

“Dunno, but ‘s true! You’re a strapping young laddie if I’ve ever seen one,” the Demon drunkenly lifted himself off of the couch, “A fine man worthy of a courtship I reckon,” he lazily bowed, leaning to grab Aziraphale’s hand, “I have a modest dowry of ten chickens and a three-legged goat if you’ll have me.”

Aziraphale chuckled, pulling himself up from the couch, grabbing Crowley’s other hand and pulling them both face to face, “Oh, what a deal. I’ll have to consider it.”

“Oh, whatever shall I do to win your affections?” Crowley dipped, hand to his forehead in a sarcastic sigh.

“Well, certainly not prance around a drunken fool,” the Angel teased, steadying his Demon, “Perhaps sober up a bit and I’ll be more inclined.”

Crowley pulled Aziraphale closer by his hips, his expression suddenly softened and he kissed Aziraphale on the nose softly. The Demon smiled brightly as he pulled away, looking deep into the eyes of the blushing Angel.

“Always loved that smile.”

Aziraphale pulled them both back down on the couch, mumbling some embarrassed slurry in an attempt to dodge compliments, “Crowley, you’re drunk. Now hush.”

“Don’t matter if I’m sloshed or not, still love your smile, aye?” Crowley leaned further onto the Angel, wrapping his arms around the man’s shoulders, their noses touching together, “Love ‘lot ‘bout you, Angel.”

The Demon ran his hands down Aziraphale’s back slowly, rubbing his nose on Aziraphale’s, “Quite the beauty, my Angel.”

“Dear boy–”

Crowley pulled himself closer to the Angel, burying his face in Aziraphale’s neck and kissing it slightly, speaking some other drunken complement into his skin, muffed beyond comprehension.

“Crowley, this is hardly—“

“Cmon Angel, it’ll be great fun,” the Demon purred, not with bad intentions, but in a drunken conviction. Crowley pushed himself on top of Aziraphale, pinning the Angel softly to the couch. Crowley moved his hands down the Angel’s torso, running his fingers down the seam of his waistcoat and lingering at his hips. Aziraphale sucked in hard, trying to apply his better judgment and not enjoy this too much. Crowley slowly made his fingers underneath Aziraphale’s shirt, running his fingers up his torso. Aziraphale shuttered, moving the Demon’s hands away, no matter how much he enjoyed the touch.

“Crowley, plea—“

Before the angle could finish, Crowley cupped his hands around the Angel’s face, pulling himself into a kiss. The kiss was sloppy – but not a bad kiss by any means. Their lips didn’t fit together quite right, and Crowley hadn’t planned on opening his mouth this wide or leaning as far into Aziraphale as he did, but in terms of a first kiss, it was far from the worst one that they could have had. Unfortunately in terms of length, it was short-lived, as Aziraphale pushed Crowley off of him quickly.

“That’s quite enough,” the Angel snapped, “Sober up.” He was demanding, and also redder than he imagined he had ever been, “Now.”

“Oh, Oh no,” Crowley sent a shake down his body, the alcohol absolving from his bloodstream, “Angel, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize that you didn’t — Gah, I’m an idiot.”

Aziraphale furrowed his brow, “It’s fine — it’s just—“ he exhaled sharply, “I don’t want either of us to get the wrong idea.”

“How do you mean?” Crowley asked, his voice dropping to a more serious tone.

“I mean that, oh, I don’t want to … let myself get too comfortable, I suppose. Letting myself believe that you desire me when it’s just the alcohol making you want me.”

Aziraphale had gained a lot from humanity, little quirks, stresses, loves — but unfortunately he had also gained insecurities, especially as someone in a body that was fatter than many others around him. He saw the way that humans looked at him versus how they looked at Crowley — with disdain rather than lust. Even the other Angels pointed it out once in a millennia. His size used to be part of the aristocracy, but even throughout the eighteenth century he was never desired as such.

“What?” Crowley exclaimed, nearly stifling a laugh, “Angel, what on Earth are you going on about?”

The Angel tilted his head in confusion, Crowley taking his hands into his own.

“Where did you ever get the idea that I wasn’t attracted to you? Angel, you’re a catch if I’ve ever seen one, I’ll tell you that.”

“I hardly believe that,” Aziraphale twiddled his thumbs in embarrassment, “I mean, come on my dear boy, just look at me.”

The Angel gestured towards his own body, shirt still untucked, hair still unkempt, but face in a depressing grimace unlike Crowley has ever seen.

“Angel, I’m lookin’ at you right now. Have been for the past six thousand years, in fact — and you’re fucking gorgeous.”

Aziraphale paused for a moment, unsure of what to say, then exhaled, “Why now? Why only when we’re drunk?” he pleaded, stepping back closer to the Demon.

Crowley bit his lip, trying to figure out exactly how to put this without sounding like the imbecile he assumed himself to be.

“I just — I hadn’t got the nerve,” the Demon admitted, “I mean, you wonder how a Demon could love an Angel, but how could an Angel, especially one as bloody fantastic and heavenly as you, love a Demon? I supposed over the last few decades it became more, well, apparent that we were more than just friends but …” he began to trail off, regretting miracaling all of the alcohol out of his bloodstream. He cursed himself for even having the thought right after. That was exactly that problem, wasn’t it? He needed the alcohol to open up. He always had.

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow as if to say ‘go on’.

“I guess it just goes to say that I was scared. Scared of what you’d say, what you’d do, what you’d hate me for. The booze just lets it come out a bit easier, I suppose. Liquid courage.”

“So… it’s not that you don’t want to,” Aziraphale started, “It’s that you did want to. And you were worried about my well-being?”

Crowley shrugged, not wanting to admit his lack of courage out loud, but wanting to affirm the Angel.

Aziraphale chuckled, “We really are quite dense, aren’t we?”

“I’d rather say so,” the Demon pulled Aziraphale in closer, placing his hands on the already loosened buttons of his waistcoat, “I’ll say it again Angel, you really are beautiful, inside and out. Especially on the outside at the moment. Messy hair kind of does it for me.”

“Oh shut it, you old serpent ,” Aziraphale chuckled, pulling himself in closer to the Demon, “You’d think after six thousand years we’d learn to better communicate.”

Crowley exhaled, raising his brows as if to say ‘if only’. The Demon rested his chin upon the Angel’s shoulder, giving him a doe-eyed (or rather snake-eyed) muted smile.

Aziraphale placed his forehead against Crowley’s, softly reaching for his jawline, “Assume you’d like another glass before we continue?”

“Nah,” Crowley purred, planting a quick kiss on the Angel’s forehead, “I think I can muster up some of my own courage tonight.”

[reds-lil-things]

Someone please talk to me about Azi’s reaction to the kiss. PLEASE!! I need to dissect it- he almost sounds angry when he says ‘I forgive you’ but there’s just so much emotion I can’t TELL

[doric-column]

Let’s talk about the moment Aziraphale *almost* denies the Metatron.

“Anything you need to take with you?”

“No. Nothing I can think of.”

His voice is uncertain. He gazes longingly through the window, where Crowley waits by the Bentley. Aziraphale hasn’t lost him yet. It isn’t too late to change his mind. We can see it play out across his face, and he wheels on the Metatron.

“I—I think I…”

What? Changed my mind? Made a mistake? Can’t do this? Can’t do it without Crowley? The micro expressions going on in this second look out the window are absolutely crushing. The hint of a smile is gone. His face is cast in shadow. He is resigned.

He’s decided. The possibility he could fix things in Heaven is too strong a draw to back out now. Crowley is still waiting out there. He’ll always be waiting. Maybe Aziraphale can make a better world for him.

“Nothing at all.”

This smile is *forced.* Aziraphale truly believes he can change the system. He needs Crowley. But the only thing he wants more than being with Crowley *right now* is the chance to be with him indefinitely in a world where they are free to love one another without fear.

The entire scene is shot in such a way that when Aziraphale is alone on screen, he occupies only half of the frame. He is only one part of a whole, and the loss of Crowley (for the time being) is palpable. Out in the street, the shot of Crowley is framed in a similar way, though reversed.

I still feel ways(TM) about Aziraphale’s decisions at the end of E6, but this little moment of “I—I think I…” is proof he considered backing out, and almost, *almost* went through with it. He could have rushed to Crowley, could have run away with him to the South Downs or to Alpha Centauri, but the system would stay broken, and any peace they would’ve had would only be borrowed. He wants to give Crowley the real thing—all of his love, all of the future, unfettered by the constant threat of a corrupt Heaven.

[fellshish]

my favourite gomens fics that i read in 2024

sorry, i am definitely forgetting some but this list got so long already

no second eden (M, 30k): aziraphale keeps getting kidnapped, crowley keeps having to rescue him. the writing is absolutely top tier

angel and ash (E, 5k): crowley returns to london after the nanny ashtoreth gig and gets introduced to an ‘Angel’ at a queer venue. trans and beautiful and affirming

where a canvas blooms (T, 3k): aziraphale and crowley have a cuddle arrangement. the Emotions… the tenderness!!!

your love, carved in stone (E, 2k): crowley finds a statue reminding him of a certain someone. seared into my brain

manual handling (E, 8k): i love a massage fic, and this one is so good, so Them

as if you were praying for god to strike you (T, 3.7k): crowley fights the angel michael, gorgeously written

you’re the bad guys (E, 69k): cold war spies au so good and amazingly titled too

big name feelings (E, 103k): one of the best aus out there; fandom au

sit tight, take hold (E, 150k): formula 1 au so good it lowkey got me into formula 1

az fell & co the yelp chronicles (T, 44k): told through yelp reviews very funny and creative

you’ll never get to heaven (if you’re scared of getting high) (M, 77k): fake dating fic that had me screaminggg

stockholm’s other syndrome (T, 5k): crowley ‘kidnaps’ aziraphale… to take him on a date. so very cute

taking the piss (M, 3.5k): aziraphale has never in his life peed…. until now. hear me out: you won’t regret reading this it’s so good

for a good time, call (E, 3k): accidental phone sex, oh it happens

prelude to an epic (T, 13k): crowley is duke of hell, i shouldn’t spoil the rest but the writing is exquisite

technicalities (E, 3k): if they don’t touch it’s not a sin right? hot

the gift (T, 3k): they talk about the elephant in the room. soft, sweet

phersu (M, 104k): historical fic where aziraphale and crowley both are involved in the life of nero. absolutely beautiful fic

playing games (E, 5k): crowley trying to get aziraphale’s attention at a gentlemen’s club. can’t get this one out of my head omg. read the tags!

crying’s not for me (E, 14k): not everyone’s taste so read the tags! a gut punch of a fic with crowley trying to get over aziraphale with gabriel

[the-travelling-witch]

𝐓𝐖𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒

summary: having your period is already stressful enough and being in a magical all-boys school doesn't make it any better; luckily, your boyfriend is here to help

pairings: leona :: jade :: jamil x gn!reader

warnings: period comfort; mentions of periods and different symptoms (but gn pronouns), mentions of reader having hair in jade's part

twisted wonderland masterlist || similar writing: bloody hell [obey me]

𝐋𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐀 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐑

It was decidedly too early for this.

You rubbed the sleep from your eyes as you walked through the hallways, head down to keep from making eye contact with the beastmen staring at you as you passed them. After tossing and turning all night, kept from finding sleep by painful cramps, being ogled at by students at an all boys school that could smell the blood on you was the last thing you needed.

And it wasn’t like you hadn’t tried to avoid this. When you had realised the predicament you would inevitably find yourself in, you had downright begged Crowley to let you stay at Ramshackle. After all, a certain Ignihyde dorm leader also never attended class in person. But, really, you should have known better. As if the headmage would let his number one therapist stay home for a few days each month or as he put it, he 'couldn’t rob a precious student like yourself of the opportunity to learn'.

At least Sam was an actual help and had magically procured just the stuff you needed.

So, with heavy eyes and burning cheeks you speed walked towards your first class of the day, dodging students at the last second on more than one occasion until you eventually ran straight into a sturdy chest. Looking up briefly to apologise, you blinked at the familiar emerald eyes sizing you up.

“Leona! What are you doing here?” Most people’s first reaction to seeing their boyfriend would probably not be bewilderment, but running into your boyfriend inside the school during class hours was as likely as Ace making it through a week without being collared by his housewarden.

“That’s funny, ‘cause I was about to ask you the same thing,” the lion drawled, ears flicking to help convey the incredulousness painted on his face. “So, what do you think you’re doing?”

As imposing as he was with his athletic build and the unimpressed expression, causing the students around you to serve around the two of you, you weren’t affected at all, used to his grumpy exterior.

“Uhm, going to class?” You deadpanned, putting your hand on your hip to mirror his stance. “Unlike someone else I know.”

“Yeah, you’re not doing that,” Leona stated matter of factly.

“Excuse you?” When he tried pulling you along by your arm, away from the direction of your classroom, you dug your heels into the ground. “I hate to sound like a broken record but what are you doing, Leona?”

“Making you get some rest, obviously.” You couldn’t see it from where you stood but you could practically hear the way he rolled his eyes. 

“Listen I can’t just skip class, I talked to the headmage–”

“Crowley can solve his own problems for a day,” his voice rumbled low in his throat, almost sounding like a growl, “you know, like an actual adult. And don’t try to play dumb with me herbivore, it’s not a good look on you. I know you sleep like shit when you get your period and I also know that the people around you don’t take your health into account when they get up to some stupid idea.”

“Yeah but-”

You saw the annoyed flick of his tail before he turned around and braced his hands on your shoulders without ever applying any pressure. By now the last bell had rang and the corridor was deserted, leaving you to be the only people standing in the early morning light.

“Don’t give me this self-sacrificial nonsense,” Leona said, words harsh but you knew him well enough to read the protective feeling behind them. “We both know you need to rest. What good would it really do you to go to class in this state?”

As if to agree with him, a nasty cramp pulled at your lower stomach and the ill suppressed grimace on your face must have been all too apparent to your boyfriend. Giving your arm another light tug, Leona coaxed you towards the Hall of Mirrors again with a tempting ‘C’mon’ and this time you let him pull you along willingly, even handing him your backpack when he reached out for it.

Sometimes, it was hard to forget the kind of culture Leona grew up in, one where women held a high position of power in general, so really you shouldn’t be surprised by how… normal he was about all of this. Part of that was probably also because it was a very gentlemanly excuse to skip class in favour of a nap, if you were honest.

“If you’re that worried about missing class, Jack can give you his notes.” His offhand comment made you snort. Of course, he would offer someone else’s service to you before anything else.

“Or my third-year boyfriend could tutor me,” you teased, a playful lilt swinging in your voice.

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” the lion shrugged. “Weren’t you just on my case about my attendance record?”

“Because the first-year curriculum is just too hard for someone who can turn an entire stadium into dust,” you jabbed.

“You’re yapping a lot for someone who’s this tired,” Leona grumbled, a large palm pushing your head down, careful not to hurt you. With a giggle you decided to drop the topic. 

Crossing the Hall of Mirrors and stepping through the Savanclaw portal, you were greeted by the  warm breeze of dry air typical for the dorm’s daytime. After the trek through the savanna past the spring in the common room and across the wooden bridges, you reached Leona’s room and you could already feel the tension seep from your body as you stepped into its comfortable familiarity. 

When you unbuttoned your uniform’s blazer, you caught a glimpse of your stomach through your shirt, slightly extended further than usual due to the bloating. And rationally you knew it was a normal bodily reaction to your period but paired with the new bumps on your face and general exhaustion, logic wasn’t quite enough to calm your mind.

The clothes being plopped down on your head, however, certainly did rip you from your thoughts. Lifting the ends of the black material covering your eyes you threw your boyfriend a questioning glare.

“I can tell you’re thinking something stupid,” Leona offered as an explanation. “Just get changed and come to bed.”

Huffing under your breath, you stepped into his ensuite bathroom to do as he said, pulling on your boyfriend’s shirt and sweatpants. While you didn’t feel like agreeing with him quite yet, you had to admit, royal loungewear was a league of its own in comfort. And probably in price.

When you emerged, Leona had just tossed his phone on the nightstand before devoting all his attention to you. The ears on his head flicked as his gaze wandered from your head to toe and back up, a grin tugging at his lips and an appreciative glint in his green eyes. 

Then, the second you came within reach, he’d already wrapped you in his strong arms and pulled you into bed with him, not without a surprised squeal from you. You could feel his deep chuckle as much as you heard it with your head resting on his chest and resigned yourself to merely sighing fondly. 

With two firm hands stroking up and down the length of your back purposefully, their warmth spreading through your body, and his chest rising rhythmically underneath you, you finally allowed yourself to relax as you traced random patterns onto his biceps and pectorals and followed the movement with heavy-lidded eyes.

“You weren’t seriously looking down on yourself earlier, were you?” Leona mumbled, a serious care in his words he didn’t offer many people. 

“Well, you can’t really help it when your body goes through this many changes, can you?” you drowsily replied, your eyes already falling closed with no conscious work of your own. “Besides, periods are not the time you feel generally great about yourself.”

“No matter how you might see yourself, I don’t want you to doubt for even a second that I like you the way you are.” At his heartfelt confession, you peeked one eye open to study his expression.

“You can be quite the romantic if you want to huh?” You meekly chuckled, not able to help yourself.

“Go to sleep, herbivore, you’re talking crazy.” Even as he put one of his hands on the back of your head to keep you cradled against him, you didn’t miss how his ears flicked or the fondness with which he looked down on you.

“Alright, alright. I appreciate it though, really.” With a big yawn you shifted to get comfortable, your cramps far from your mind as you sunk into your boyfriend’s natural warmth. “Love you.”

By the time you’d wake up, Ruggie would have dropped off lunch along with some other essential items. But for now, Leona was content to watch as your breath evened out and your chest rose and fell in the rhythm of his own, careful not to disturb you when he draped a soft blanket over you. With the rising sun peeking through the arches of his room, he truthfully answered you in a whisper. 

“Love you, too.”

𝐉𝐀𝐃𝐄 𝐋𝐄𝐄𝐂𝐇

Once Jade had taken an interest in you, he would seemingly appear out of thin air in your general vicinity a lot more often than it was usual to run into a fellow student. On your way to the school store, in line at the cafeteria or when you were carrying supplies for Professor Crewel, the moray would coincidentally round a corner to lend a hand.

So it really shouldn’t have come as a surprise that, as his courting became more serious and you had become aware of what was going on, even reciprocating the sentiment, you found the sophomore waiting for you before your classes started. Your time table was well-memorised so he could greet you with a serene smile each day and walk you to your first class of the morning.

Now, as a moray eel with naturally sharp senses, it was somewhat inevitable he’d pick up on the scent of blood once your period rolled around. In contrast to beastmen who were mostly mammals in their anatomy, however, the Octatrio did not grow up on land and periods weren’t exactly a thing for merfolk. Moreover, seeing as they had only been on land for roughly two years and were attending an all-boys school, it was not a phenomenon they were likely to run into.

So, having his dear pearl approach one morning, the smell of iron heavy in the air, paired with their already soured mood and his lack of knowledge on the societal stigma around the topic, misunderstandings were bound to happen.

“I really don’t think it wise to attend class in your state,” the moray had stated after greeting you, an eyebrow raised at your stubbornness to continue with your day even at what, in his mind, must have been a grave injury. 

“I’m fine, Jade, I just want to get this day over with,” you had groaned, trying to push past the tall student and drop the topic, embarrassed enough that a sizable chunk of the student body would be aware of your predicament in the first place.

But who would he be to let a person he actually cared about go on their way with a bleeding wound? 

“Prefect, I must insist you seek medical aid immediately.” You remembered the uncharacteristically genuine furrow of his brows as he had blocked your path. “Please, go to the school nurse or at least let me tend to your needs. I’m certain I could be of help if you share your problem with me.”

“If you want to hear me say it so desperately,” you had huffed, “I’m on my period. Happy now?”

“Your period?” Jade had echoed with wide eyes, unknowingly speeding up the burning of your shortened fuse with his lack of knowledge. “Yes, I’m aware we are to attend class but I fail to see–”

“Very funny,” you had deadpanned, pushing past him with a cold shoulder and leaving the moray to his own confusion. “Now if you excuse me, I have better things to do than stand here and humour your feigned ignorance today.”

Yes it wasn’t your proudest moment, you’d admit that. And when Jade approached you later that day with a genuine apology, explaining how he had researched the topic and was deeply ashamed of his uninformed remarks, you felt like the worst person on the planet and apologised more than he had. So in the end, you came to an apology truce, where you noted he shouldn’t have prodded further when you didn’t want to talk about it and you shouldn’t have exploded on him like you did.

Since the incident, however, Jade had been a dream to have around. Not to fall short again, he had done a fair amount of research, both on the biological aspect of what was happening to your body but also on the lived experience and its numerous complications. Then, doing what he did best, he observed your reactions, moods and symptoms to better cater to you specifically.

Every month he put both his cooking and alchemy skills to good use, whipping up whatever meal you desired and brewing a painkilling potion with just the right dosage for your current situation. Being Jade Leech, he could also assert his presence in any given situation with as little as a simple glare if you did not want to be bothered.

Your favourite part of the comfortable rhythm you two had fallen in, however, were the evenings where Grim was otherwise engaged and you had Ramshackle to yourselves. On those nights, soft music and fond laughter would mix with hushed whispers spilling from under your bathroom door.

A few months prior, Azul and Jade had sat down for a ‘pleasant chat’ with the Headmaster concerning the state of Ramshackle dorm and soon thereafter, funding had been provided to remodel vital parts of the dorm. No more caved-in roofs or stairs giving away under people’s shoes. Together with the money from the VDC, the old house had finally started feeling like an actual home; one you felt welcome and comfortable in.

It also meant you finally trusted your new bathtub enough to sit in it and actually also relax without any anxieties of whatever you could possibly contract from the exposure. 

With his natural fondness of water, it hadn’t taken long for Jade to propose the idea of shared baths and you hadn’t regretted your decision to agree since. It wasn’t like he gave you any reason to either; it was the opposite, really. It didn’t take the moray long at all to figure out the perfect temperature or what fragrance you preferred, if any. 

He also never made you feel inadequate or like you had to be ashamed of yourself, even when your body went through change throughout your cycle. Your skin tingled from his featherlight touches where his fingers traced your curves, never hiding the fact that he appreciated what he saw but always pairing it with a reverence that made you feel loved and desired, rather than ogled at. So when you sank into the water after him, cosying into his space to lean back against his chest, it was like sinking into a warm, secure embrace.

The water helped soothe your aches and washed away the tension which had built over the day and the easily flowing conversation with Jade let you focus on anything other than the thoughts in your mind, listening to his rich voice rather than the doubts trying to crawl to the surface.

When his hands massaged the shampoo into your hair, you always teetered on the edge of falling asleep right then and there. The atmosphere paired with his skilled fingers applying just the right amount of pressure as his nails gently scraped over your scalp banished any headaches you could have had and had you practically melting against him, a sight that tugged on his heartstrings more than it should have. But to see you put so much trust in him, someone who wasn’t exactly known for his benevolence, it stirred something fond in his heart and it made him want to work harder so you would keep showing him this blissful expression.

After scrubbing your bodies down, paying special attention to any sore spots, he helped you out of the tub, never failing to comment on how wrinkly your hands had gotten in comparison to his, which didn’t seem to be affected by the water exposure at all. Wrapping you up in a fluffy black towel he claimed was from Octavinelle -though you were fairly certain you’d only ever seen pale lilac ones there- he padded you dry and helped you into your clothes, mindful of the routines and products you had shown him previously. 

Needless to say, you felt like a new person each time without fail as you lay snuggled up with your boyfriend in bed later on, listening to his breathing and the steady beating of his heart. 

“Thank you so much for always doing this much for me, Jade,” you said, earnest gratitude and unspoken adoration lining your voice. “I’m really lucky to be with you, huh?”

“On the contrary, I am the one luck seems to favour seeing how you chose to be with me,” he chuckled and you didn’t miss how his strong arms pulled you closer against him even if it wasn’t physically possible. He’d be damned if he didn’t try. “And you needn’t feel conflicted about receiving my affection. Just know I enjoy doing these things for you and with you, pearl.” 

“I stand by my earlier statement,” you smiled, making him laugh along with you. Looking into his heterochromic eyes, you traced the contours of his face with the same delicacy he showed you earlier. “Is it selfish to say that I feel happy about having this side of you all to myself?”

“Not at all. It is reserved for you only, dearest.” His gaze was heavy on yours as he loosely curled his fingers around your wrist and pressed a searing kiss against your palm. “After all, I do not intend to share this side of you with anyone else either.”

𝐉𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋 𝐕𝐈𝐏𝐄𝐑

There have certainly been times where Jamil lamented having to basically babysit his dorm leader. Well, pretty much all the time. But being unable to stay by your side while you were hurting was generally one of the most annoying parts of his duties to him, especially with the daily workload of being a student on top of it all. 

Jamil being Jamil, however, he soon worked out a schedule consistent enough to let him visit you somewhat frequently. 

You were lying on one of Ramshackle’s rickety couches, nursing your lower stomach with a -at this point already lukewarm- water bottle, when a familiar knocking pattern brought a smile to your face.

“Come in! It’s open,” you shouted across the hall, adding your sarcastic comment under your breath in order not to worry your boyfriend more than he already was. “Not like the lock’s ever doing its job in this place.”

“Hm? Did you say something?” Jamil made his way straight over to where you were sitting, his footsteps quieting down as he reached the carpeted floor.

“No,” you shook your head, smiling up at him as he leant over the back of the couch. Ignoring his raised eyebrow, you reached up, so you could cradle his cheek as you sat up to meet him for a sweet kiss. “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too.” Seemingly appeased, your boyfriend mirrored your fond expression, tracing your face with his grey gaze while his hands moved to your shoulders, deft fingers working out any tension you might be having. “How are you feeling?”

“A lot better now that you’re here,” you laughed, though it wasn’t merely a sappy joke, as indicated by Jamil’s scoff behind you. “I mean it though. I’ve been feeling a lot better since I’ve been receiving your royal treatment.”

“It’s nothing that fancy,” Jamil assured, his eyes softening at the way you melted into his touch. “I’m just trying to take care of you.”

“I know you don’t think much of it but I really appreciate you taking time out of your busy schedule to look after me when I’m not even facing anything out of the ordinary,” you sighed, rehashing points you had raised in vain before.

“Oh hush,” your boyfriend playfully shushed you the way he had also done many times already when the topic came up. “Compared to what I usually deal with, this is like taking a vacation, especially since I get to spend time with you. Now speaking of my normal chores, I brought some leftover food.”

“Have I told you that I love you?” You swooned, causing both of you to laugh as Jamil headed over to your kitchen, one he was already familiar with. Not only because he often came over for some much needed peace and quiet but because Kalim was literally the reason you had it in the first place. A relationship-warming-gift of sorts for a relationship that wasn’t even his.

Besides, ever since courting and dating you, Jamil’s measuring skills when it came to meal prep seemed to have worsened because -coincidentally- he’d ended up with too much food and subsequent leftovers so often, you wondered why you even stocked your own fridge anymore.

What you had also noticed though was that, whenever you were on your period -something he seemed to track himself-, the food he brought over was a lot less spicy than usual and rather light. Something someone prone to a sensitive stomach, nausea, reduced appetite or a disturbed metabolism could still comfortably eat. 

The phenomenon of suddenly appearing sticky notes had also made itself known, labelling new containers in your fridge, medication on the counter or your coffee machine with reminders like ‘Remember caffeine makes your cramps worse’ written on it in neat handwriting. 

One or the other bar of dark chocolate and some of your favourite snacks had mysteriously found their way into your bags or onto a bowl in your kitchen as well though, making you smile at Jamil’s thoughtfulness when you caught a peek of them. 

During the day, whenever his schedule allowed it, he’d also drop by to check in on you between classes or during lunch, something Kalim wholeheartedly supported. Normally, Jamil refused all of Kalim’s offers to take a break from his duty but when you were feeling under the weather, he took the white-haired student up on it when no imminent disaster was on the horizon waiting to happen.

When your plate was empty and made its trip to the sink, Jamil refilled your hot water bottle but unlike you earlier, he waved his magic pen over it, which you had realised significantly expanded the time in which the water actually stayed hot.

“Thank you,” you said for possibly the millionth time as you took the bottle from him, then gave him a mischievous grin. “You know what would make me feel soo much better though?”

At the tilt of his head, you scooted over to make space between you and the back of the couch. Getting the hint, Jamil settled in behind you and you got comfy again with your back to his chest. This too had become somewhat of a ritual of yours, one that wasn’t limited to while you were suffering from cramps. 

After all the chore-y part of the late afternoon was taken care of, you liked to spend the evening snuggled up on your couch with the TV playing some show you liked to watch together, read: a show which you started and dragged Jamil into. Well, every now and then your boyfriend also made sure you didn’t fall behind on your studies, though he was more lenient when you were on your period.

“This is nice,” you mumbled, your eyelids heavy now that you had eaten and were surrounded by warmth and your loving boyfriend, whose hands stroked along your sides in a soothing, continuous motion, his chest vibrating underneath you with his affirming hum. 

“I could stay like that forever,” he agreed.

“Well I certainly wouldn’t mind.”

“I’m sure you wouldn’t.” The smile in his voice was auditory even if you couldn’t see his gorgeous face. You could, however, feel his soft lips on the crown of your head and his breath fanning over it and you reached to intertwine one of your hands with his before a yawn you couldn’t suppress any longer filled the air. “You should get some rest, I’m sure you’re tired.”

“But I wanna stay with you longer,” you protested, sleep clouding your tone. 

“Don’t worry, I will be here when you wake up,” Jamil promised. And with that you drifted off, the warmth from around you settling cosily around your heart. A heart that wasn’t really yours alone anymore.

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twisted wonderland: @savanaclaw1996 @honehbee42

[arent-i-the-fairest]

Hi! I'm not sure if your request is open but I will still try to do a request and I'm really sorry if I requested something that doesn't go with your rules! So my request is how would the nrc boys react to there s/o going back home? Like Crowley finally found a way to open the portal that will bring them back home, how would they react to it?

(Sorry if my english is bad it's not my first language)

𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝

author’s note : thank you for the request! off home we go…

i really do wonder what it’ll be like in game when mc finally gets to go back home.

in just the blink of an eye, you were gone, and the portal closed—never to be opened again.

heartslabyul

you leaving was a massive hit to riddle’s heart. he tries to remain the same stern, strong housewarden he’s always been, but there’s no hiding the pain. all much to his distress, he’s noticeably more deflated, there’s less energy in his tone when he speaks, and he zones out when he shouldn’t. he can’t help but wish he spent more time with you and was more affectionate. he should’ve made more time, especially since you were of such high priority to him.

trey struggles to hide his constant sadness. he still has to be a reliable vice housewarden, but it’s hard when everything is weighing so heavily on his mind. he’s always helping others relax, but he can’t seem to get himself in a lighter mood now. how ironic. when he thinks of your relationship, he has some regrets about always being kind of reserved about his feelings. he was a good boyfriend, for sure, but his heart aches thinking about how he never did show the full extent of how much he loves you while he had the chance.

cater finally made a deep, meaningful connection with someone, and it’s over. just like that. and for the first time, a good relationship didn’t end because of him being forced to move. he’d laugh if he wasn’t so heartbroken. he just can’t win. he’ll spend hours every day, nearly every bit of free time he has, scrolling through the hundreds of pictures and posts he made with you. they comfort him, but they’ll never be enough.

ace knew this day would come for a long time. he’s been dreading it, but he’s always just pushed thinking of it away, deep in the back of his mind. can’t avoid it now, though. when you said your goodbyes and left, he confidently told himself he’d take your departure like a champ… that didn’t last long at all. very quickly, he was in shambles. ace stops caring about nearly everything outside of the situation for a while, only doing the bare minimum of what he needs to. he can only think of you. he really, really misses you. he wants you back here. he wants to go on adventures with you again. they were chaotic, but he’d do it all again.

deuce struggles very heavily with his feelings after you’ve left. he tries desperately to pick himself back up, because you wouldn’t want him moping around all the time. that’s right… he has to do good for you. he’ll get back on his feet at some point. and he’ll become the honor student he always said he’d be. he swears on it. and he’ll pursue all the stuff after graduation he wants to do! even though you’re not beside him anymore, he knows you’ll be cheering him on from your world. he’s cheering you on, too.

savanaclaw

leona remembers the way you’d always talk to him about something or do something in the background whenever he tried to nap. he’d always tell you to pipe down so he could enjoy the silence. that silence isn’t so relaxing now that you’re gone. everything in general feels shittier. there’s a lot less of him sleeping and more of him lying down while reflecting. in the times he can fall asleep, he tends to dream of you. his herbivore still gets to bug him in his dreams. he never complains in them. the only way he can be with you now is in that head of his.

naturally, ruggie is crushed. every day alone feels like another stab in the chest, yet he’s gotta keep going on. he has to work hard, get money, and make sure he can eat as always. memories of you always creep into his mind when he’s trying to be at peace. and especially when he’s working. you used to help him around a lot, so of course not having your presence around anymore is very hard to ignore. you better not be slacking off over in your world! but more than that, you better be happy. make all this hurt in his heart at least somewhat worth it.

underneath jack’s uncaring demeanor is a whole lot of longing. he knows the portal can’t be opened again, but he thinks about if it could be a lot. it sure would be nice if it could. wolf beastmen typically only date and have one special someone for their whole lives, and he’s happy you were his. if somehow, some way, you manage to come back, he’s loyally waiting here for you.

octavinelle

azul is completely devastated. he needs to get it together as soon as possible, he knows. but it’s just too difficult. that emotional side of him can’t take this. he finds it difficult to even look at the items you left behind for him, because all he feels when he sees them is misery. the only thing that comes to mind is how he wants you back with him. bringing you into a contract or preventing you from leaving through other means would’ve gone against your trust for him, but he selfishly finds himself wishing he had. he had so many plans for the future with you.

jade, when asked how he’s doing now that you’re gone, always says he’s ‘a bit upset, but managing’… that doesn’t even begin to explain his feelings. he regrets not destroying that portal when he had the chance. he does a remarkable job at continuing to fulfill his duties despite the pain, but he’s constantly burning with longing and frustration on the inside.

floyd will never forgive you for leaving. you didn’t like him enough to stay, huh?! sure, it’s a huge ask to leave your whole world behind, but he kind of convinced himself that you still would’ve done it for him and your other friends. he should’ve grabbed you by the heels and pulled you out of the portal before it was too late. day-to-day life becomes dull. bleak. the things you two used to do together are no longer fun. he comes to realize that the activities themselves weren’t fun. it was you that made every day enjoyable, and he’ll never get to experience that kind of life again.

scarabia

kalim has been feeling kinda guilty. he should be nothing but happy you got to return home, he believes. and he is glad! … but he’s so miserable, too. he wants to remain positive through everything, but all his attempts just keep falling flat. this party is so much fun…! but he’d feel livelier if you were attending. he’s learning so much in this class! … but he wishes he was able to study with you later. his mind just always circles back to you. he surrounds himself with people all the time and has the most fun he can to try coping, but it still all feels wrong. he misses you so much.

jamil got a taste of a happy life, and it’s over. he feels defeated. the day you’d return to your world was something that plagued his mind often. he knew it was coming for a while, but it didn’t make it hurt any less. there’s nothing to be done now—he can’t bring you back here—so he just sort of buries his feelings as he desperately tries to move on. ‘if i just focus on working and my duties, sooner or later, i’ll feel at least somewhat normal again,’ he tells himself. ‘there’s no time to be sad anyways.’ he’ll never move on, though. he couldn’t when you meant so much to him.

pomefiore

you’re gone. vil hates to mope, but he can’t escape it. his head and heart both ache constantly as he gets through days as best as he can manage. routinely, he lets all the sadness out at the end of the day, when he’s alone. all this crying is unbefitting of him, but it’d be worse for him if he kept it all bottled up. and he did always lecture you about the importance of both a healthy mind and body, so he can’t be a hypocrite now. he wonders how you’re doing all on your own…

rook mourns like you’ve died rather than gone home. the circumstances feel somewhat similar to him, though. wouldn’t you agree? think of it: he can’t speak with you, spend all day by your side, or so much as see your beautiful face again. all he has left is the many photos he took of you, as well as the journals about you he had spent time working on and collecting. and he’ll continue to write and think about you. truly, you’re the most beautiful person in every sense to him. you’ll be his muse forever.

epel is so bitter. he didn’t give you an easy time when he heard of your decision to leave, as well as the time leading up to your actual departure. he kept to himself more, sulking. when the time came for you two to say your goodbyes, all his tears of frustration and sadness came out. he really was wishing you’d stay forever. he understands that you can’t abandon your world, but he’s still so frustrated that there’s not a solution where both of you can be happy.

ignihyde

idia doesn’t know how he could even begin to get through this. he wants to just shut down, but he can’t even do that. every second of every day, he’s thinking of you. there’s hardly any coping with video games or media he likes, because he can’t take his mind off everything. he wanted to be considerate of your feelings, so he let you leave, despite the thought of being without you ever again making him nauseous. if he could go back in time and beg for you to stay instead, he would.

diasomnia

malleus is in a constant state of pain and longing. forgive him for his selfishness, but if things went how he truly wished, that portal would’ve never been opened. he spends a lot of time in ramshackle, reminiscing. he’s tempted to take the items left behind by you—incomplete letters addressed to him, pillows, even objects as mundane as your pencils—but he doesn’t. he leaves them just as they are, lying in your dorm. it makes it look as though you still live here. as if you’d come in at any time, and the two of you could spend another evening together.

lilia tries to think and act maturely about your departure. he had been emotionally preparing himself for it ages beforehand… but unfortunately, it still hadn’t cushioned the blow very much at all. he’s glad you get to reunite with your world, and he doesn’t want to sulk, but it hurts. with hundreds of years of being alive, lilia has made lots of memories, both joyful and sad. you certainly go down as both. how painful it is to think of how you’re gone now... but. he’s glad he met you.

sebek, for a while, holds almost a kind of resentment towards you. you’ve left him. logically, he knows he shouldn’t have expected you to leave your world behind for your life here in twisted wonderland, but he’s still just so bitter. it takes a lot of effort from the people around him to talk him out of that bitterness. but eventually, he starts to crack. he gave you quite a hard time about your decision to leave, and the guilt is getting to him. he thinks about your relationship often. he loves you a lot, and he’s sorry he was never quite good at expressing it properly while he had the chance.

silver is as heartbroken as you’d imagine. the good in his heart always tells him to be happy that you’ve returned to your world. your home, that you’ve been waiting for so long to go back to. it helps. as much of a nuisance his constant dozing off is to him, he’s now able to find a sort of comfort in it. that’s because he dreams of you a lot. and even if it’s not the real, physical you that he’s talking to, touching, and spending time with in those dreams, he can only take what he can get now. it hurts a little more each time he wakes up.

[lottachaos]

GOOD OMENS SEASON TWO SPOILERS

Ok I’m gonna be deeply ranting and analyzing the kiss scene (mostly just the kiss itself) because OH MY GOSH THERES SO MUCH TOO IT

First of all here’s a gif of it:

And also I don't have a gif of it but when Crowley releases Aziraphale, what struck me was that he didn’t make them burst apart he gently and almost sadly just stepped back. And then watched. Now. One of the biggest things I’ve been thinking about in this (because I’ve been obsessively watching it over and over) is how Crowley is kissing him. It’s a long kiss. It’s not sensual. It’s not eating each others faces. It’s intimate and very romantic. Crowley missed Aziraphales lips by a hair and is slightly kissing his chin. Crowley holds him there as they sway back and forth slightly. I can’t see if his eyes are open or not. But the thing that strikes me about this is how much all of Crowley’s body language and everything just scream about how much he doesn’t want to move. He finally kissed his angel and he wants to stay pressed up against him, finally locked in the embrace he didn’t realize he needed for so long. He just stays there. He doesn’t kiss deeper. He just stays pressed against him, not wanting to deal with how Aziraphale will look at him afterwards.

then he has to break apart. He does it gently, but suddenly. Like he had to force himself but doesn’t want to . He wanted to stay, but he knows he can’t. So he steps back with his heart breaking more than he thought possible.

now onto Aziraphale.

Aziraphale is shocked. His eyes go from open to closed to open to closed. He leans back so slightly you almost can’t see it. He doesn’t seem to know how to feel.

And then his hands go around Crowley. It almost seems like it’s an unconscious motion, given how he looks after they break apart. It looks like for a split second, he lets himself melt into Crowley, as his hand wraps around his back and slides across it. But then he hesitates again abd takes his hands away. He thinks he can’t melt into Crowley. But there was the one moment where he broke.

after they break apart, Aziraphale looks shocked, upset, desperate, and to me, even a little disgusted. Probably because he doesn’t know how to deal with it. He licks his lips and moves his mouth around abd seems uncomfortable. But then after Crowley leaves he presses a hand to his mouth. He holds it for a second and starts crying. He realized he liked how it felt. He realizes everything he’s been missing. He loved the feeling of Crowley’s lips on his. Most importantly, he loves crowley.

on the topic of people hating on Aziraphale and saying the metatron did something to him, I disagree. This seems completely in character fir Aziraphale. He’s not an arsehole, he’s in conflict. He thinks he’s not allowed to love Crowley. I get him.

ok Thanks for coming to my Ted talk hehe bye

[lustlovehart]

Angst Idea with the formerly human Monster!Twst cast where they realize if they didn’t end up the way they are right now, maybe they could’ve pursued a romance with you. It would’ve been acceptable, and… they could shower you with affection the way you deserve.

But they can’t. Not anymore. If only they were still human… Perhaps they could lean into you without feeling unworthy.

Pairing: Riddle, Ace, Deuce, Trey, Leona, Kalim, Epel x Reader

Warnings: Small Rollo x Reader, Slight hint of possession, A little angsty, talks of marriage, Attempted biting, Blood, mentions of Death, Little cheesy, Limb stitching, Indirect kissing

Riddle who lets his cold hands ghost over you while you sleep. He knows you said he could always sleep next to you, you wouldn’t mind… you never do. Yet, there’s an intense feeling of shame. He thinks it’s his head acting as if his mom is reprimanding him for such scandalous behavior. But then you shoot up from your sleep and look at him, goosebumps coating your skin.

No, it’s not due to his mom's hold on him. It’s simply because you’re human and he’s not.

“Riddle? I told you if you want to lay here you—”

“It’s okay. I don’t need to.” he retracts his apparitional hand, floating away in a daze. If only you saved him with your light when he was human… too bad, it’s too late for that.

A blanket is thrown at him as if it were an arrow, the cover phasing through his body. He turns around in confusion at the sudden abrupt assault, should he… reprimand you for the mess?

“You’re cold, aren’t you?” A very… self answering question with an obvious answer. Yet, he can’t seem to correct you on the mistake. He’s quiet for a moment, looking at you from the shadows. From your perspective, all you see is a glowing Riddle illuminating the shadows.

“Well… yes.” He watches you shift off the bed, the mattress compressing under your weight. He wonders if your question is genuine, and if you’re really asking if he’s cold. Shouldn’t someone in your profession know these things?

But then, he remembers your true goal. Is this when you send him off? If it is, he thinks he’s ready.

He shuts his eyes, ready for the familiar pain, but he’s greeted with something soft. Your hand phases through his face, acting like his skin is solid at the moment (he wishes it was), your thumb rubbing his cheek.

“Then, you should be in bed.” If only, he was still human.

Ace who watches you play with a kids toy, your head lazily rested on his shoulder. The scene is so… Mundane, domestic. Entirely unlike the life, he’s been living in the… well not living. He isn’t talking, he isn’t silently joking with you like typical. He only stares. You look up and you swear this is the most alive he’s looked, and it’s ironic because it’s the deadest his face has ever been. Yet, this vacant expression is so mortal, so full.

“What? Did you die a second time—? Ace, what are you…?” The way his partly exposed face rests on your forehead is… an interesting feeling to say the least. You’ve never touched human bone, so it’s a bit unnerving… The contrast of his cool skin on yours is a further reminder of just how far the both of you are in life.

He’s cold, and you’re very much the opposite. Warm.

You won’t ever notice the silent words in his decaying brain. In truth, he wished some higher power would let his thoughts reach your mind, but then again, there’s no brain in his head anymore.

I wish you met me when I was alive. He moves his head back, the confusion on you making it obvious it didn’t work, obviously.

“Why are you looking at me like that? Oh, wait… is it cuz you’re a human without a brain?” You pinch his cheek in response, his protests and hisses of pain filling the silent atmosphere.

Deuce who feels the most need to be human when you’re vulnerable. He hides behind the trunk of a tree as he listens to you mumble about NRF. He listens when you complain about Crowley, yet can’t help but wonder how he’s doing. He listens when you talk about missing Rollo's specialized flower bouquets he would give you. He listens when you talk about wishing to laugh again while you sit on Jack's back as he does push-ups. It isn’t long before you’re silent.

He’ll finally moves away from his hidden spot, sitting down next to you. The soft breathing tells him you must’ve fallen asleep. His hand reaches out to your tear-stained face, leaning the part of his head still covered in skin. His cheek touches yours, akin to the way animals nuzzle each other.

“Deuce…” he wonders if you’re still awake, or if you’re dreaming about him. He hopes it’s the later, but if it’s not, he won’t blame you.

“I’m… Here.” His arms wrap around you, furthering the embrace even more. He avoids letting his bones touch you, it’s gross, it must be. He doesn’t want to disgust you. But he can’t help from deepening the skin-ship you share while your faces touch.

In a way, he’s attempting to transfer your pain to himself, but no matter how hard he tries, those tears will always bleed from your eyes.

If he was still human, perhaps he could’ve been your beacon of life. But the pale decaying skin of his, will always be a cruel reminder he will never be the same as you.

Trey is the least obvious with this bother, somehow. At least, it’s how he looks. He essentially doesn’t seem very observant of the difference, only attending to what you need as a person. Very reliable.

His observation comes in when you don’t need him, or rather, you’re caring for him.

Trey’s eyes watch you curiously inspect his stitched arm, his fingers opening and closing with each turn of the limb. Though the joint might not be connected to him, he can still feel you exhale on his skin, each puff sending chills down his spine. He doesn’t let the feeling show though, still smiling at you when you take out a needle.

It’s nice to be cared for, rather than be the primary caregiver.

“… Why are you look at me like that…?” He didn’t notice

“Oh, sorry.” The awkward laugh leaves his throat. Before he can think of an excuse for staring, he feels the weight of his arm fall into his lap, your stature rising to your full height. “… You know, I think I kinda need that.”

“No, you’re eating.” … Right, he hasn’t eaten yet, that’s silly.

“Well then you should probably stitch me back up—“

“I’m gonna feed you, Trey.” He takes a moment to fully calibrate before he’s smiling. Though, it’s not very clear what kind of smile it is, whether happy or sympathetic. Sparks of electricity trickle from the bolts in his neck while he waits. When you place the bowl in your lap, his tall form bends towards the utensil, mismatched eyes staring into yours.

He watches you bring the fork back down to your lap, his hand quickly grasping your wrist before you can grab it You quirk an eyebrow at his actions.

“I don’t think I’m hungry,” he whispers. You shrug your shoulders, muttering a hushed ‘ok…’ You attempt to reach his limb only to be stopped again. “… I can do that too. Don’t worry.” The hand around your wrist releases, placing itself on your head instead, a single pat telling you to sit down.

There’s a silence that isn’t usual between you too. You don’t dare to question what’s on his mind though.

But, even he’s not too sure about this silence, the only thing he understands, is the arm detached from his shoulder, is just proof of the difference between you both. Maybe, such a tender scene would’ve been better in a shared home, rather than the dingy room of an abandoned hospital.

Leona who leans towards the doesn’t mind side. Yeah? So what if he’s a monster? It doesn’t change the fact you at least used to have something in common. But then he watches the way you fondly talk about humans from your home. Suddenly he feels like your affections are putting him in second place. You place your hand on your chest, an imaginary vow taking place right in front of him. A vow, not for marriage, but a promise, to return to this…

“Rollo. If he hasn't gone crazy and burnt the capital yet, I’m sure he’s taking care of my stuff for me.” you pause, a pause that only leads to Leona's hidden attention, shifting down your face. “I’ll come back to him.”

“…” he’s quiet, leaning back into the wall. You assume he’s on the verge of a nap, but you’re proven wrong when cloth snakes around your entirety. It’s not aggressive nor malicious. If anything, the way they move somehow seems… discontent. The wraps gently lean you on his shoulder, your body stiff at the sudden proximity. You freeze further when his head lays a top of your own. “They don’t need you there.”

“Oh yeah? So i’m needed here than?” you laugh, it was meant to come off as a joke.

“…”

But his silence might’ve told you everything you need to know, and possibly even more.

“Leona…” he doesn’t reply to the call of his name, his bandaged head falling from yours into your lap. Your hand reaches for his hair, but stops just shortly, returning to their rightful place, your sides.

He continues to stay in your embrace, golden cloth nudging your hand into his hair, for it’s the only thing that can tell him you won’t leave.

Even if it’s a lie.

Kalim, who sometimes, in moments like these, forgets he’s not a conceivable human anymore. He’ll look down at the slight fumed state his body is in, but he can’t process the harsh fact, he’s to live like this forever. He has no fortune, no home, no family, only Jamil.

And you.

Kalims body mystifies in the air, smiling at the way you cling onto him with a vigorous grip. The carpet that flies beneath you is one of the wilder select in his room. It’s a sight he’s always wished to have with his future spouse, and he’s sharing it with you; the only thing in his wishful life closest to any form of a lover, is you.

The carpet comes to an abrupt stop, your arm still wrapped around Kalim’s while your free hand remains hugging his lamp to your chest. So close to your heart, and in theory, his own, if you could count that piece of gold as his.

“Kalim, are we… done…?” His eyes look into yours, a hint of fear engrained into your irises, yet the way you smile tells him you’re accelerated. His lack of an answer throws you off, it’s a first for the genie to never burst into words of jovial, and the first he doesn’t look you in the eye as soon as he can. A moment passes before Kalim slowly turns his head towards you, his typical smile painted on his face. “You have something to say don’t you…” The moon shines on his glittering, feint skin, like a golden lamp. “… What is it?”

“If I could grant my own wish, what do you think it’d be?” He laughs, grabbing you by your shoulders and pulling your bodies together. His eyes linger at the cage in your arms.

“Huh… I’m not sure… What would it be—?” The bangles on his wrist jingle when he moves his hand to the lamp, lifting the object between your faces, softly kissing the metal as his eyes stare deeply into you.

“To marry you.” He lifts from the object, the brightest smile lighting onto his face as he laughs. His eyes trail down to the lamp both your hands overlap. “But your wish always comes first…! Because… you’re the human!”

Epel is similar to Leona, in the regards that he doesn’t care about your humanity and his inhumanity. The difference though, is Epel willingly chose this life for himself. So, he can’t blame anyone but himself for the distance between you and him.

Your palm rests on Epel’s face, pushing him with weak strength. It works somehow, as the lunging position he was in falters, his arms falling to the side while crimson pupils dilate at your face. You can feel the stab of tiny rocks pushing your skin where you sit.

You move your hand away, Epel falling onto your legs.

“I thought you said—“ his speed has him moving his face inches from your own, blood dripping from those fangs of his.

“Yeah yeah, whenever… I did say that.” Your hand pushes his face to the side, the vampire rolling onto the ground next to you. If Vil saw such a sight, he would scoff at the filth.

“So then what is it—“ he stops when he finally notices the pant in your words, and the way you sway from dizziness. He sits up even faster than he lunges, steadying your body. You laugh at the worry in his expression. How could you laugh at this…?

“Be careful, you could kill me earlier than I’m meant to be dead… Those reapers surely… Wouldn’t like that…”

Right. He forgot. You, can die.

…

He wordlessly hoists you up, carrying your body to wherever he can find people. Surely, you need that blood more than they do.

Yet again… he’s at fault for forgetting something so precious about you.

[kay-jaye]

bit on the side?

bit on the side?

crowley doesn’t know what the fuck that even means. ok, yes, he’s familiar with the deluge of terms humans have concocted to define the complexity of their relations to each other.

side piece. sneaky link. friends with benefits. fuck buddies. situationship.

crowley knows what it means. he does. but when nina speaks the phrase to him, crowley can’t seem to recognize a single language, alive or otherwise dead, in which the words she says make sense. he briefly wonders if this is his version of aziraphale’s french.

because she’s talking about aziraphale.

aziraphale, the angel. the angel who likes his tea without sugar, but his wine with company. the angel who claims to have a distaste for “bebop,” yet crowley has caught him mouthing the words to queen’s “good old-fashioned lover boy” more than once in the bentley. the angel (bastard) who enjoys subjecting crowley to his magic act antics that under no circumstances would crowley ever admit to finding amusing or, satan forbid, endearing. the angel who popped into paris during the reign of terror because he got peckish for crepes, and even the threat of guillotine in that damp bastille cell could not deter him from baked goods in the end. the angel who still insists on dragging crowley to see productions of shakespeare, despite both being present for the original opening nights of almost every play the man wrote. the angel who is what heaven is supposed to be incarnate—pure and kind and too good for his own good, really.

and crowley is a demon.

he doesn’t think any of the typical labels apply. they’re not human, after all; it couldn’t be that simple. crowley can’t pinpoint exactly when it started or when it changed. 6,000 years is a long history to comb through. it was more than the acquiescence of two immortal beings to the familiarity of each other in a world full of temporary creations. it was more than a bloody arrangement at this point. crowley doesn’t know how it can be more than whatever it means to inhabit the other’s body and walk right into fatal danger, but they are. he’s inclined to cut his losses and say he knew—because deep down, he did know—he’s been fucked since eden and the damn wall and the damn rain he can’t help but associate with revelation.

other people’s love lives, nina had said. love lives. she’s projecting, crowley knows that. whatever’s going on with her and…lydia? linda? they say love makes you blind, but crowley would argue you see plenty of things. every passing glance between sips of champagne; every smile at the crisp sarcasm rolling off a forked tongue; every brush of fingers over the exchange of a briefcase full of books, the shaky grip on a tartan thermos, the drunken grab for another glass of wine across the table. silly things. things that aren’t there. for all the times aziraphale has implored him to read more, crowley swallows the urge to say he already reads into things more than he should.

he’s imagined it before; what it would be like to have more. a fair share of people have made assumptions about them in the past, though he’s not sure whether aziraphale has picked up on it, but that’s not why crowley suddenly feels as though armageddon is upon them once again. never has someone alluded to anything as…intimate as “hooking up.” crowley can brush away the implication that they’re together, but something screeches to a burning halt the moment nina insinuates what crowley’s only ever allowed himself to think about when he’s laudanum-level drunk and lonely because he has a greater chance of not remembering in the morning.

he remembers though. that’s usually when the guilt kicks in, when he’s hungover because he forgot to miracle the alcohol out of his system before passing out, and the headache pulses with the constant reminder that aziraphale is pure, pure, PURE. nothing he imagines on those nights is pure.

what gave him away? and if nina can see it, can aziraphale?

[patronsaintofelsewhere]

Thoughts on Angel Crowley & Healing from Trauma

(Minor Good Omens S2 Spoilers)

As someone who’s endured my own Trauma and dealt with the resulting PTSD, watching Crowley’s journey from a joyful, silly, and entirely innocent angel to a withdrawn, lonely, hyper-vigilant demon as a result of the Fall both shattered my heart and confronted me with the fact of myself, and I’d like to talk about it. 

When you* experience Trauma, you experience an existential disorientation and a profound sense of grief over the world you thought you knew–one where you were safe and nothing bad had ever happened to you. “Innocence died screaming,” and all that.

You're also therefore mourning the loss of who you were, and struggling to make sense of who you are now. Which is why this conversation is so gut-wrenching:

“I know you.” “You do not know me.” “I knew the angel you were.” “The angel you knew is not me.” 

This dialogue admittedly still makes my eyes swim. It’s reminiscent of the many conversations I’ve had with people close to me who knew me Before and After. Not only are you grieving the loss of your own innocence, so are those around you, and it feels like you’re wearing their loved one’s face like a mask.

And then underneath the grief, there’s a river of–what you’ll later discover is misplaced–guilt. They want you to be who you were. Fuck, you also want to be who you were -- to not have experienced what you did -- but you can’t.

And when they catch a glimpse of something that reminds them of Before-You -- because it's not like that you has just up and vanished, you've just changed -- they say things like, “I feel like I have you back!” Like the After-You is a consolation prize, something to be tolerated while they wait for the Before-You to return.

It’s not malicious. They love you. They want you to be happy. But it just serves as a reminder of your loss and suddenly you’re acutely aware of how alone you are with the Thing that hurt you.

After trauma, you’re lonely and you're afraid. But those emotions make you feel quite naked, because both of those things would require you to depend on other people to feel better and, at this point, the thought of doing that is far too scary, so to the world, you’re angry. Thus begins the cyclical self-fulfilling prophecy.

And that cycle goes a bit like this: People see the mistrust and the bitterness and the volatility (the shield that keeps people at an arm's length and helps you feel safe). They don't see the profound sustained fear underneath, the desperate need to feel seen and accepted. And so people pull away.

And that real or perceived abandonment feeds the monster that’s taken up permanent residence in your ribcage and screams at all hours that you’re not worthy of love, that you’re irreparably broken, and you’ll always be alone. And you pull away from the people that love you. And the cycle repeats. And you start to believe all of the bad things about yourself that the monster tells you.

Being confronted with a character who you adore and who you also relate to closely is bittersweet in that it’s both immensely painful, but also offers you an opportunity to interrupt that cycle, to explore a different -- perhaps more forgiving -- lens through which to view yourself. To practice self-compassion by proxy, if you will. After all, we tend to extend far greater empathy and forgiveness to others than we do to ourselves.

Angel Crowley, "who squeaked and squealed when he was happy; who flailed his arms around and made explosion noises with his mouth to explain nebulas; who preened when told his stars were pretty,” (joycrispy) reminded me a lot of “Angel T,” or rather myself before Trauma.

And Crowley's story is tragic. I was heartbroken and angry for him; I felt the depth of the betrayal he experienced at the hands of someone he loved who he'd believed loved him; I found myself wanting to protect him, to comfort him. Crowley did not deserve what happened to him.

And, over a decade later, I realized that I’d finally accepted that I’d been an innocent, just like Crowley had, and I didn't deserve what happened to me, either.

And -- if you find yourself relating to this post -- neither did you.

Once we can tell ourselves that and actually believe it, we can start to lower the shield. We can allow people closer, including ourselves. We can bring the parts of ourselves we may have hidden away back to the surface. We can soften again. We can truly start to heal.

Crowley, at his core, remains the same. He is still kind, deeply loving, playful, silly, and – against all odds – hopeful. But his trauma has changed him; his innocence is gone.

He struggles to trust others; fears abandonment; engages in unhealthy coping mechanisms; finds it easier to prioritize and tend to Aziraphale's needs and desires than his own; and has difficulty expressing his emotions.

But he also gained an abundance of empathy, a deep love for humanity, and a strong sense of justice.

We adore Crowley exactly as he is now; we don't wish for him to be who he was before the Fall. And neither does Aziraphale.

In kind, we won’t be who we were — nor should we try to be — but we can be something new, a different version of ourselves that is equally good, equally worthy, and equally deserving of love. 

After over a decade, I think my Trauma wound has mostly healed, as much as Trauma wounds can, anyway; it’s a dull ache rather than an acute pain. Yet Crowley's story assuaged that remaining hurt like a salve I hadn’t realized I needed.

So thank you to @neil-gaiman for giving us such a beautiful story, and to David Tennant, Michael Sheen, and the rest of the cast and crew who bring the characters we love to life on screen.

Good Omens truly is a gift. May it continue to inspire us to offer kindness and love to ourselves and one another. 🖤

* I am aware that I say “you” when I should use the singular first-person “I,” but I still struggle with this when talking about my own trauma. So I’m using “you” and you, reader, will deal with it x

[redisthenewblue]

TINKER-Twisted Wonderland x Tinkerbell!Yuu/Fem!Reader Part 2

Part 1 Part 3

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･[Name] was jolted awake by a gentle poke to her side.

“Mrggg…” The girl mumbled, rolling over.

“[Name], you need to talk to Headmage Crowley,” Lilia said, and at those words, the girl shot up, her head darting from side to side.

“Headmage Crowley?! Where is he?!” she exclaimed, confusion written all over her face.

“In his office. You need to see him right now while he’s not busy,” Lilia replied.

With that, [Name] rolled out of her makeshift bed and landed on the dresser. She stretched her wings out, feeling the need to wake up a bit more, and ran her fingers through her hair. To avoid drawing too much attention, she decided to stay in her smaller form. She turned to Lilia, who was busy gathering his supplies in his bag.

“Thanks again, Lilia.”

“Not a problem at all… Good luck!” he said.

With a quick nod, [Name] set off to find Crowley. She zipped through the halls, feeling like the school was a giant maze. Finally, she stopped in front of a door that looked significant enough. Peeking at the gap under the door, a grin spread across her face. She took a few steps back to gain momentum and—oh, she got stuck. Maybe she had overestimated the size of the gap. She could see Crowley right there too! Pushing against the door, she tried to wiggle free. With one last strong shove, she tumbled across the floor, fairy dust sparkling around her with every movement. Comically, birds circled her head as she transformed back to her normal size.

“Mr. Crowley, sir,” she paused to catch her breath, “I wanted to talk to you about staying at this school. Before you say anything, just hear me out. I can’t go back home right now. If I do, I’ll be stuck in a horrible house with older siblings who absolutely despise me in Fairy Hollow, a town that feels completely unfamiliar with a future that seems just as uncertain. Please, please, please let me stay!”

Crowley’s eyes widened at her outburst, and he let out an exhausted sigh. “You can stay under certain conditions. You’ll have an earlier curfew, must keep your grades above a B-, no tardies, and if you ever feel threatened, you’re allowed to use your magic.” [Name] lit up, her glow brighter than ever. “Got it! But what about my dorm and uniform situation?” she asked eagerly.

“That will be sorted out later. For now, get to know the school and your classmates,” Crowley said, pushing a magic pen towards her. With a smile,[Name] enthusiastically took the pen and bolted out the door.

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“Pfft. All it takes is a little gust to—Hah! Oh no! The Queen of Hearts's statue looks like it’s been flame-broiled!” Ace exclaimed, his cool demeanor crumbling as he took in the damage from the fight.

“Flame-broiled indeed,” [Name] replied with a mischievous grin, enjoying Ace’s misfortune.

“Where did you come from?! Why is there a girl on campus?!” Ace shouted.

“[Name]?” Grim and Yuuken chimed in unison.

“I go to school here, duh,” she said, sticking her tongue out playfully. “So, what’s going on?”

“It’s Ace’s fault for trying to divert my fire! He should’ve just let it burn you to a crisp!” Grim shot back.

“Who in their right mind would ever do that?!” Ace retorted.

“What’s happening here? Cease this at once!” Crowley called out, making his way over.

At the sound of Crowley’s voice, [Name] froze. She really didn’t want to get blamed for anything, so she did what she does best—she shrunk down. But of course, she wasn’t going anywhere; she wanted to see how this played out. It felt like one of those cheesy Tubi movies she used to watch for inspiration on her inventions.

“Oh no! The headmage!” Ace cried, panic creeping into his voice. It was only the first day, and he was already in deep trouble.

“Not more lashings of love! We gotta get outta here!” Grim, Yuuken, and Ace tried to make a run for it, but [Name] had other plans. Whipping out her magic pen, she tripped the boys with a vine, falling over in silent laughter. This school was going to be full of opportunities for mischief! As they stumbled, Crowley approached with a fierce expression.

“OW!” Ace yelped, clutching a bruised spot on his side.

“Myaaaaah! I’m still sore from yesterday too!” Grim complained.

“As if the likes of you could ever escape my wrath! Did I not just warn you about ‘no more incidents’? And now you’ve charred one of my statues?! It’s almost like you WANT to be expelled!” Crowley threatened.

Yikes… So glad I managed to dodge that bullet!

“No! Please forgive me!” Ace pleaded.

“Hahhh… I wish I had my phone on me. This would totally blow up on magicam,” [Name] said, rolling over onto her side and getting comfortable as she watched the chaos unfold.

Crowley shifted his glare to Yuuken. “And you! You were specifically told to keep Grim under control!”

“I tried to stop him, but…” Yuuken began, only to be interrupted by the furious headmaster.

“This is unacceptable. And you! State your name and grade.”

“Ace Trappola… Freshman,” Ace said solemnly, sulking so much that [Name] thought he might just sink into the floor.

“Then listen carefully, Trappola. You, Grim, and Yuuken will be punished for today’s antics. You’re all assigned to wash a hundred windows!”

“Myah?! This is what you get for making fun of me! It’s all your fault! And where’s [Name]?!”

[Name] felt the urge to storm over and help Grim clean those dirty windows, but she had to keep her wings down and play it cool. 

“What? I have to do it too?!” Ace whined.

“Of course you do,” Crowley scoffed. “You’ll meet in the cafeteria after class. Are we clear?”

“Yes, sir,” Ace finally relented.

“Ugh, I can’t catch a break!” Grim groaned. “I’m already worn out from a full day of cleaning. I can’t believe we still have to wash a hundred windows.”

Yuuken, clearly annoyed, cut in to silence Grim’s complaints. “We just have to suck it up and do it. You didn’t help at all earlier anyway…”

That’s when it hit [Name]. Yuuken didn’t snitch on her when Crowley asked where she was. In a way, she owed him something, but she just didn’t know what. Then it clicked, and she snapped her fingers.

“I know!”

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With a sense of urgency, [Namel hurried toward the ramshackle dorm, logs of wood trailing behind her. All she needed now were some metal scraps, screws, and a bit of wood polish to get things rolling. As she turned the corner, her wings twitched—a telltale sign that something was about to happen. Maybe it would be wise to take a different route to the ramshackle. "Hey, hold up there! No fair getting a head start! Wait!" The unmistakable voice made [Name] shake her head in frustration. Of course, it had to be them. 

Just as she was about to turn around, something knocked her to the ground along with the logs. "Outta my way!" a boyish voice shouted, fading into the distance. As she tried to get back on her feet, Namel stumbled over the logs in a rather embarrassing fashion. Her previously calm expression morphed into one of pure fury. She whipped around to see who was responsible for this mess—it was none other than Ace Trappola. Taking a moment to gather herself, she stood up, piled the logs together, and tied them securely. With a sprinkle of fairy dust, she made them float again. Taking a deep breath, she reminded herself that she couldn't deal with this chaos right now; she had to get to the mirror hall.

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"This is not good..." Ace winced, clearly feeling the weight of the situation.

"What am I going to do?! How am I supposed to break this news to my mom...?" One boy was in full panic mode, realizing he couldn't afford to lose his place at NRC.

"Well... there might just be a glimmer of hope," the headmaster chimed in, offering the students a ray of optimism. "There’s a slim chance we can fix this chandelier."

"Wait, really?!" The boys shouted in unison, their hopes lifted.

"The magestone that powered this chandelier was sourced from the Dwarfs' Mine. If you can find a magestone with the same properties, we might be able to make the repairs."

"Then I’ll go look for a magestone! With your permission, sir!" one of them declared, determination shining in his eyes.

"Just a heads up—I can’t guarantee that any magestones are still out there. The mines have been closed for quite a while now, so it’s possible that all the magestones have been mined already."

"I'll do whatever it takes to avoid getting expelled, sir!" the boy insisted, desperation in his voice.

"Hmmm... Alright then. I’ll postpone your expulsion for just one night. But if you don’t bring back a magestone by morning, then all of you are out." Crowley negotiated, setting the stakes high.

"I understand, sir! Thank you so much for this chance!"

 "Okay, let’s get moving. We need to find a magestone and wrap this up," Ace said, his shoulders drooping as he let out a heavy breath.

"You can reach the Dwarfs' Mine instantly by using one of the gates in the Mirror Chamber," Crowley informed them.

"Yes, sir!"

"Why do I keep running into you guys...?" [Name] grumbled as she stood at the entrance of the mirror hall, eyeing the chandelier on the floor with a frown. "How do you always manage to get into trouble?!"

Yuuken simply shook his head, muttering, "Grim and Ace..."

"Hmph." [Name] replied, "Who's that, and why is he staring at me like I’m the elephant in the room?" She pointed at the boy who was looking at her with wide eyes.

"Maybe it’s because you’re the only girl in an all-boys school?!" Ace shot back, much to [Name]'s irritation.

"Shut it," she hissed, switching her focus back to the boy who looked completely taken aback. "What’s your name?"

"Deuce... Spade…" he managed to say, still looking a bit overwhelmed.

"Deuce?" she repeated, raising an eyebrow. "Please stop looking at me like that."

"Sorry!" he said quickly, before turning back to the boys.

"We can’t waste any more time. Let’s go! Dark Mirror! Take us to the Dwarfs' Mine!" Deuce urged enthusiastically.

"Huh?! Wait!" [Name] exclaimed, feeling herself being pulled into the portal. She desperately tried to grab onto the smooth floor, but her efforts were in vain.

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"So, this is the Dwarfs' Mine... A long time ago, it was overflowing with magestones," Deuce remarked, taking in the surroundings. 

The girl rubbed the spot on her head where she had landed. "Are you serious right now?!" She quickly dusted off her pants, her wings twitching as they prepared her to take off back to campus. 

"Where do you think you're going, insect?!" the cat called out, a hint of annoyance in its voice.

"Back to NRC," she replied flatly, not bothering to look back.

Just as she was about to launch herself into the air, she was suddenly tackled by a ball of fur. 

"Get off me! How are you so heavy?!" [Name] struggled to push the cat off her.

"Nyah! You left us behind near those statues!" the cat exclaimed, indignation in its tone.

"That wasn't my fault, was it?!" [Name] crossed her arms defiantly. "But... I guess I can help you find the magestone. I could use a little adventure anyway."

"Look, everyone! I see a house over there. Let's check it out and see what the folks there have to say," Ace suggested, his shoulders slumping in a casual manner.

"Hello? Is anyone home...? It must be empty. This place looks like it’s been abandoned," Deuce said, glancing around.

"Bwah! I just got a spider web on my face! Ptchoo! Ptchoo!" 

"Wow, these desks and chairs are tiny! Did kids live here? One, two... seven! It’s like a clown car in here," Ace joked, managing to elicit a giggle from [Name].

"When the mine was thriving, this house must have been a really lively spot," Deuce mused.

"Well, standing around here isn’t going to get us anywhere. If we want to find a magestone, we've got to go inside the mine. Let's head in," Ace declared, stepping out of the house.

"You want to go in THERE? It’s pitch black! Insect! You go first! You’ve got that weird glowing thing around you," the cat retorted, a hint of fear in its voice.

An irked expression crossed her face. "Wuss," she muttered as she stepped into the cave, her glow lighting the way.

"What, scared of the dark? Pathetic," Ace teased Grim.

"Myah?! I’m not scared of anything! I’ll take the lead! You all follow me!" Grim puffed out his chest and moved in front of [Name].

"Whoa, hold on!" Deuce warned the others.

"What now?" Ace asked, clearly annoyed.

"There's something up ahead!"

At that moment, [Name] felt a bone-chilling sensation crawl up her spine. Turning around, she gasped at the sight of a ghost, her wings instinctively spreading out as a defensive measure.

"Do make yourselves at home... You can stay forever!" the ghost rasped, a cold aura enveloping the cave as it spoke. More ghosts emerged from behind the first one.

"More ghosts?! They're floating around here too!" Ace stepped back, ready to defend himself with his magic pen.

"If we stop to fight, we’re never going to get anywhere. Let’s just keep moving," Deuce reasoned, trying to keep the group focused.

"Sure, but don’t act like we voted you as team leader. We’re here because of that ridiculous stunt you pulled," Ace shot back.

"Oh? I’m pretty sure this all started because you tried to dodge your window-cleaning punishment!"

[Name] listened to the boys argue, feeling her blood pressure rise. She just wanted to rip her hair out in frustration.

Yuuken watched [Name]’s face twist in exasperation. From what he had seen during orientation, he didn’t even want to imagine how she would react now. He cautiously covered his ears, bracing for her outburst.

"So, we’re digging up ancient history now? If we're getting into it, this all started when furball here torched that statue!" Ace pointed an accusing finger at Grim.

"Myah?! Maybe you shouldn’t have made fun of me, then!" Grim defended himself.

"SHUT UP!" [Name] snapped, startling the boys into silence. The cave echoed with her voice, and they could have sworn they heard birds fleeing from the nearby trees.

"Everyone, just calm down," Yuuken attempted to diffuse the tension.

[Name] scratched her neck sheepishly. "Sorry..."

"...iiivvv... ...oooouuu..."

"Huh?!" the group gasped in unison, fear creeping into their voices.

"Wh-where's that coming from? [Name], was that you?" Ace asked, his eyes wide.

"No! Why would that be me?” [Name] whispered, hugging herself tightly.

"...neeevvvaaa... ...iiivvv... ...ooouuu..."

Why did [Name] let herself get tangled up in this mess? Would she even make it out alive in time for her first day tomorrow?!

"Sounds like... it's getting closer..."

"Stooonesss... Stooonesss aaare miiiiine!"

"There it is!" Yuuken pointed out the looming monster.

"What is that?!" Deuce’s eyes widened in horror.

"Myaaah! No one said there'd be monsters! Let’s get outta here!" Grim tugged on Yuuken’s pants, panic in his voice.

"That thing is super creepy! But didn’t it just mention something about 'stones'?!" Ace exclaimed.

"Stooonesss... ...nevvva give stooonesss...!" The monster swung at the group, its movements threatening.

"So there ARE still magestones here!" Deuce concluded, his eyes gleaming with determination.

"Myaaah... Even as a master sorcerer, I... I don't think I can take that thing down!" Grim admitted, his bravado fading.

"Are you really a master then?" [Name] couldn’t help but tease the cat, even in such dire circumstances.

"But we need a magestone or we’ll get expelled! I’m going in!" Deuce charged toward the monster, ignoring the warnings.

"Are you out of your mind?!"

"You can't do this alone!"

But Deuce brushed aside their concerns. "I won't be expelled! No matter what!" 

"Get lost! Get lost! Get loooost!"

Deuce cried out as the creature lunged at him.

"Oh no! Loosey-Deucey is in trouble! Not on my watch! Heeyah!"

"Oof!" Ace hit the ground hard, wincing in pain as his muscles tensed.

From the sidelines, [Name] struggled to contain a laugh, watching the boys get tossed around like rag dolls.

"Myaaah! Keep away from me!" Grim raised his paws in sheer panic.

"GRRRAAAWWRR!" The monster let out a fearsome roar.

"It's like nothing even phases it!" Grim shouted in disbelief.

"Did you just see that sparkle?!" Yuuken exclaimed, staring past the monster at a glimmering rock.

"Look behind the monster! There's something shining in the mineshaft!" Ace said, pushing himself up from the floor.

"Could that be a magestone?!"

"GWAAAAAAAH! Nooo, I won't let you take the stooooone!" The monster attempted another strike. [Name] flinched, that attack almost hit her.

"Yuuken, we need to get out of here, and fast! That thing's going to turn us into tuna paste!" Grim pulled Yuuken by the sleeve.

"Retreat!Retreat! Retreat" Yuuken called out to the others.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

"This should be far enough, right?" Grim panted as he rolled onto his back.

"Owww... What was that thing? No one warned us about something like that!"

"That was definitely not your average ghost."

"Let’s just give up and go home. I'd gladly take the expulsion if it means I never have to face that thing again." Ace sighed, resigning himself to the idea of leaving NRC.

"What?! No way, that's not happening! I'd rather face death than get kicked out of Night Raven! How can you give up when the stone is right there?" Deuce shook his head vigorously, refusing to back down.

"Pfft. Easy for you to say, considering you’re not even half the mage I am. If you want that stone so badly, go get it yourself. I'm out." Ace turned to walk away, but Deuce shouted after him.

"Oh YEAH?! Fine, just run back to your little coop, you big chicken!" Deuce taunted, momentarily breaking character.

"Whaaaaat?! Who are you calling a chicken, huh?!" Ace shot back, crossing his arms and stepping closer to Deuce.

"Whoa, Deuce... Did you just, like, totally change personality there for a second?"

"Huh?! Sorry... I lost my temper for a moment." He cleared his throat, clearly embarrassed.

"So, what do we do now?" Yuuken squatted down, looking to the others for guidance.

"Can't you guys just blow that thing up with magic?" Grim directed his question at Ace and Deuce.

"Can't you do something magical yourself?" Yuuken asked Grim, raising an eyebrow.

"The headmage said it himself... magic has its limits. If you can't visualize your magic clearly, it's not going to work." Deuce explained to Yuuken and Grim. "Using magic on a larger scale or trying different kinds of magic requires training."

"Exactly, that's why magic academies exist. It takes a ton of practice before you can just snap your fingers and make your thoughts manifest as magic. And the more flustered you are, the more likely you are to mess things up." Ace added in.

"So that's why Grim can only summon fire," Yuuken said, taking a jab at Grim's ego.

"Hey! Just you wait! I'm gonna learn to use way cooler magic than that! I'm just getting started!" Grim shot back at Yuuken.

"Anyway, we need to come up with a plan to defeat that creature and grab the magestone," Deuce reminded everyone.

"Yeah, just like last time with the chandelier, right? You 'found a way,' and now look where we are. We just fought that thing and it wiped the floor with us. So what's your grand plan, genius? Because I definitely don't trust you to wing it!" 

"What?! You're the one who—"

"And here we go again," Grim sighed, realizing this was going nowhere.

"So, I guess we should all just get expelled then," Yuuken shrugged, sounding indifferent.

"What?" Ace and Deuce exchanged bewildered glances, taken aback by Yuuken's sudden defeatist attitude.

"Whoa, that was a bit harsh. Where did that come from?" Grim's eyes widened at Yuuken's unexpected demeanor.

"Why not try working together for a change?" Yuuken suggested earnestly.

"With Loosey-Deucey? No way! He'd get me killed!" Ace shot back at Deuce, dismissing the idea.

"Like I'd enjoy teaming up with you?!" Deuce retorted.

"What if we actually came up with a solid plan first?" Yuuken proposed.

Ace clicked his tongue in annoyance. "A solid plan? Like some buddy system? Are you kidding? You always say the most ridiculous things with a straight face, [MC]."

"Agreed. There's no way I can work with him." The blue-haired boy shook his head defiantly.

"Yeah, but... getting expelled on the first day? That's pretty lame too. Maybe even lamer." Grim pointed out.

Ace stuttered, caught off guard by Grim's comment, "W-well..."

"Yeah, there's nothing cool about that!" the black-haired boy added.

"Ugh... Fine. Let's just get this over with. All right, Yuuken. What's the plan?" The orange-haired boy asked, sounding resigned.

"Yuuken… Is this plan of yours really going to work? I'm scared—I mean, I'm a little... uh, hungry," the cat confessed.

"Then let's brace ourselves for the worst," Yuuken said with a hint of pessimism.

"Heh heh. That's not exactly encouraging! Keep it loose and lively! Let's do this!" Ace declared, pumping his fist in determination and flashing his trademark smile.

"Wait! I feel like we’re forgetting something..." Deuce said, deep in thought.

"That monster really must have done a number on you," Ace chuckled.

"Whatever!" Deuce shot ahead of Ace, ready to take action.

What do you guys think they forgot in the mines???

[yanderecrazysie]

Twisted Zoo - Ending 5: "One of Us"

I am no longer doing tags. Tumblr hates me and I’d rather not waste my time when there are so many! You can keep up to date on Twisted Zoo on Tumblr, Quotev, Wattpad, or AO3.

WARNINGS: yandere themes

Note: This is similar to ending 2, but I like how it turned out

The moon was high in the sky by the time you were ready to enter the black panther and white tiger exhibit. You walked along the path to the enclosure, whistling cheerfully to yourself. As you pushed open the exhibit door, your whistle trailed off into silence.

All four halflings stood in front of you, looking grim. Even Malleus, who it usually took a small hike to visit, was present. Silver and Sebek avoided eye contact, but Lilia and Malleus stared at you in silence.

“Are you guys alright?” you asked, heart sinking at their expressions.

Lilia exchanged a look with Malleus before the smaller of the two stepped forward. He looked up at you with sad eyes and you were briefly reminded of a puppy wanting to have some of your food.

“Lilia, what’s going on?” you stepped forward, closing the enclosure door behind you.

Lilia shook his head, “It’s… bad news.”

You felt yourself trembling. You cared about the halflings so much, to see them so upset made you feel nearly heartbroken.

“The zoo,” Lilia said, so softly you had to lean in to hear him, “is planning to send us away.”

His words hit you like a train. You opened your mouth but no sound came out. “Send you away?” you finally managed to ask, “Why?”

“They think we’re too boring,” Lilia whispered, “We overheard the top humans talking. They say our exhibit is expensive to maintain when no one visits us. They plan to separate us and send us to different zoos across the world.”

“No! They can’t do that!” you gasped, “You’re like a family! They can’t just tear you apart!”

“They can,” Malleus finally spoke up, his furry ears pressed flat to his head, “And they will. Unless…”

“Unless what?” you asked, practically begging for an answer.

“You can help us,” Lilia said quickly, hope shining in his eyes.

You shook your head, “I don’t see how. I’m just a researcher. Mr. Crowley wouldn’t listen to me.”

“You’ve cared for us, made this place feel better than home. That has to mean something,” Silver spoke up.

Malleus stepped closer, casting a shadow over you. His emerald eyes seemed to glow in the darkness, “We don’t want to be sent away. We don’t want to lose you.”

Sebek nodded, “We’ll do whatever it takes to stay together, but we need you on our side.”

“I’ll… I’ll talk to Mr. Crowley,” you replied, “I’ll try to convince him to-”

Lilia interrupted you, shaking his head, “Talking won’t work. He’s made up his mind.”

“Then what do you expect me to do?” you asked in slight frustration.

Lilia’s eyes met yours, “You’re one of us… you understand us more than any keeper ever has. Surely you could sacrifice your humanity to tie together our family? That’s what the visitors really want to see.”

“One of you?” you echoed, “I’m human, I can’t-”

“Then let me make you one of us,” Malleus interrupted calmly, “My horns have magic, I can turn you into one of us easily.”

Lilia’s hand rested on your cheek, “We can’t survive without you, little one. Stay here, with us and let us keep you safe.”

“You’re sure this would save you all?” your voice came out as a whisper, but they all heard it clearly. One by one, they nodded.

Malleus’s horns began to glow as green as his eyes.

—----------------------------

“Look, Mom, look!” a little girl pointed down at you, “They’re so cute!”

Self-consciously, you drew your tail in, catching the two little white tiger cubs and bringing them closer to you. The twin toddlers giggled and hugged you, gently cuddling against the black panther baby cradled in your arms. 

Your belly was large- you’d be giving birth in a month from now. Whether they would be white tiger halflings or panthers would be a surprise for all of you. The zoo visitors put in votes for their guesses.

Like they’d hoped, the white tiger and black panther exhibit was popular- in fact, it was probably the most popular now that you had little cubs tottering around and looking cute. 

But at what cost?

Silver gently picked up a cub in each arm, “Give Mommy some rest.”

You blinked gratefully at him but didn’t say much. You were tired.

Everyone was happy this way! The visitors, the panthers, and the white tigers. 

Yeah, everyone was happy.

Everyone.

[biceratops7]

I’m gonna SCREAM-

We’ve already established as a fandom that Metatron could teach a masterclass on gas lighting, but I wanna talk about how he specifically validates the things Aziraphale cares for while simultaneously devaluing them under the surface.

First off, this moment?

Tells us everything we need to know. It sets the scene for exactly the games Metatron is playing. He makes Muriel feel important while openly insulting them (flat out calling them stupid), aka seamlessly reinforcing the idea that they’re less than to both them and anyone else in the room. He knows he can get away with this easily, he knows that Muriel, lonely, overlooked little Muriel, will be completely distracted by the fact that someone so important is taking an interest in them.

This is already horribly clever, but then later on you realize it’s doing even MORE heavy lifting when he appoints Muriel to run the bookshop. “See? What’s important to you is what’s important to me! I’ve graciously taken the time to ensure your beloved shop is looked after by Muriel. You know, the dim one!” …let’s suffice it to say he’s ensnared too birds with one net for this one, and that a pattern is already starting to arise.

So when Metatron says Gabriel came to Aziraphale because he’s a “natural leader” and “doesn’t just tell people what they wanna hear”? Yah he’s full of shit. Aziraphale struggles with his sense of purpose when he doesn’t have someone or something guiding him, and for thousands of years he’s been terrified of sharing his true feelings and opinions to 90% of people he’s known. Completely just trying to butter him up. Wanna know the real reason Gabriel seeks asylum with Aziraphale?

Exactly this. Gabriel just says so point blank. It’s not because Aziraphale is this person for him, it’s because despite knowing nothing, he has this instinct that Aziraphale is the only one who can possibly understand why Gabriel did what he did. He is, I mean as far as we know, the only other angel who has fallen in love. (In general, let alone with a demon.)

But nope, can’t have that. We can throw the promise of restoring Crowley in the mix to sweeten the pot, but we can’t acknowledge why he’d want that so badly in the first place. So now it’s cause they work so well together. We can praise the angel for the fallen archangel Gabriel himself coming to him protection and guidance, give him a gold star. But we couldn’t DARE imply that it was by virtue of Aziraphale’s courage to choose earthly love over heavenly. How Gabriel didn’t need a leader, but a friend who’s truly known the joys of adoring that “particular person” and the pain of needing to hide it.

Cause then Aziraphale would start getting crazy ideas, like that his silly little human feelings have a great deal of worth. That they have the power to inspire, form cracks in the institution, fundamentally weaken what has controlled and harmed him. We wouldn’t want him to know the true value of the cards he holds when he has the ace in a match against you, now would we? After all…

Metatron uses this ingeniously sinister tactic of taking away Aziraphale’s choice while giving the illusion that he’s actually opening up doors. Notice how he tells Aziraphale he would have the authority to do something as extraordinary as turn a demon into an angel, yet he never once puts the much simpler alternative of just working with a demon on the table? The sleight of hand here is that he’s being offered the opportunity to freely be with Crowley… but he’s already freely with him as is, no bargain to be made. In fact he fought to be. Metatron disappears this accomplishment right before our eyes, while seamlessly maintaining the illusion to Aziraphale that he (Zira) is in control.

He sets Aziraphale up for failure by only providing the option he knows Crowley will not only decline but be deeply hurt by. It’s all so cleverly planned. Once this plays out exactly how he wants, he delivers the finishing blow by diminishing Crowley and his “damned fool questions”. Suddenly doing a complete 180 and emphasizing how foolish and troublesome he is. Metatron was offering Crowley by Aziraphale’s side as The Carrot. Now he’s telling Aziraphale it was stupid of him to want The Carrot, un-heavenly.

Aziraphale’s life, love, happiness, it’s all not only a massive inconvenience for Metatron but a liability. He has successfully taken a weapon from Aziraphale’s hands he didn’t even know he had. Metatron sees the writing on the wall, and he wants it contained.

[jenchan-writingmultis]

What do the dorm leaders + a few more students do when you leave them without saying goodbye / you go missing? (Series: Part 2)

──────⊱⁜⊰──────

Genre: Fluff/ Angst

Pairing: Leona x Gn Reader

A/n: Ooh It took me a while to create an update of this, I’m still in my second semester hell but I got a bit of time! So, I decided to write something for our dearest Lion, also I wanted to note that I’ll be doing this based on the book chapters, for example, Riddle First, Leona Second, Azul Third, and so on… I hope you like this part! I loved writing every part of it.

Credits: The design was made by me in Canva and the art that was used is all from the Official Twisted Wonderland Cards.

Warning: Cussing, OOC Crowley (lmao), smitten Leona, slight blood mention Masterlist Part one (Riddle x Gn Reader)

──────⊱⁜⊰────── Sypnosis: You went off already, actually, they didn’t even know where you were right now, Grimm was worried about you, where have you gone? You just vanished into the mirror that you were talking to every midnight, he knew that he should have listened to his gut feeling when he realized that you were warning him about your sudden disappearance. The moment he went dashing out of Ramshackle, paws cold from the snow that he stepped on and it was really bad that when he needed Hornton he wasn’t there.  Savanaclaw:

Leona: He was annoyed when Grim started screaming outside of his dorm in the middle of the night causing all beastmen to wake up due to his ruckus, but his annoyance vanished when he realized what the furball was saying. You were gone, while he looked indifferent outside, telling Grim to calm the fuck down because he can easily hear him without him screaming in his ears, he was a bit worried. (Just a bit)

“Oi, can you tone down your screaming?” he grabbed Grim by the collar as the kitty sobbed, “Calm down, we’ll help” He sighed, causing Ruggie to stare at him surprised, “What do you mean we?” Leona scoffed before he threw Grim at him. 

“This furball will just keep on screaming if we leave him” He sighed, scratching the back of his neck. Ruggie huffed “Well, it’s surprising for you to immediately agree to help though” he whispered to himself, Leona could clearly hear him, but he ignored what the other said. It was rare for you to leave Grim all alone, you two were practically attached to the hip, so you vanishing out of nowhere was odd, did you finally get back to your homeland? You didn’t talk about it, but he can see how you look at others when they’re with their families and he knows that look. It was a look he had when he was younger, when Farena was the golden child, and he was the black sheep. 

He wanted that kind of familial love from his parents before, but they never gave it to him. You probably missed your family in your original world, he understands the feeling, but he can’t help but feel a bitter ache in his heart. Did he and the others not make you feel at home here? Sure, they overblotted and probably could have killed an herbivore like you, but he’s a changed man, surely you didn’t leave because you got sick of him or the others, right?

Of course, he went to interrogate Grim, asking him various questions, and after a few hours of barking orders to his fellow beastmen, he went to Crowley personally to ask, he was running out of options, and he was starting to feel that his theory that you went home was right. The last time Grim saw you was you got sucked in the mirror that was inside your bedroom. He tried to check on that mirror too, he didn’t feel any type of magic in it, it was just an ordinary mirror. You’d know he’s already at the edge of his seat trying to find you when he asked Crowley out of all people for help, denying the feeling in his gut that you were truly wiped out of this world.

“You’re saying that the prefect vanished?” Crowley put his hand on his chin, he was a bit annoyed about how calm Crowley was, and he crossed his arms glaring at the guy. “Did you send them home?” He questioned, getting straight to the point, which made Crowley shake his head “No, I didn’t, I have yet to find the portal back to their homeland, but this is certainly worrisome, I’ll try to help you find them, and can you summon the other head wardens for a meeting?” Crowley walked past him, Leona’s eyes following him. “I’ll be getting the teachers involved, this is a missing student case after all” He murmured, now that’s the sight he likes to see, somehow his opinion of Crowley increased. He guessed Mc became important to him as well. 

However, despite the ton of effort to find you, none of them got any leads, the ache he was feeling from before got worse, he found himself awake than asleep most of the time, his head was aching, it was affecting his health too. When the housewarden meeting along with the teachers happened, of course, the majority of them volunteered to have their housemates search for you outside and inside, Crowley couldn’t get any officers involved since you weren’t officially in Twisted Wonderland, you were a walking unregistered herbivore; it was dangerous, it could get the school closed so he had to ask his staffs and students to help around, which no one complained. Everyone cared for you, you helped them one way or another; helped them grow as a person and as a mage, it made him fascinated that you get to change almost everyone in this school in just a few months of your presence, and you’re magicless even. 

The improvement of the school happened because of you, and you just vanished out of thin air just like that, like some God who graced everyone with their presence only to leave once everything was sorted out. What about him? 

Leona couldn’t help but feel numb, eyebags evident on his face, it was so unlike him to be overworking trying to find you, you were just a herbivore to him, someone who had the audacity to annoy him before just to gain his help. Ruggie was worried about him too, the guy tried to ease him into that he would try to use his “connections” to gain more manpower to search the whole twisted wonderland, it made him laugh, he was a second prince, he had more connections that can help with the search than Ruggie, plus he knew that you weren’t here anymore. He couldn’t accept it at first, it was just slapped on his face multiple times.

Your scent continued to fade as the days continued, he didn’t have any motivation to do anything else but try to find you, find you, and find you for the first few weeks health be damned, but when you manifested in his mind, festering him to do something else, to try to finish third year, then maybe during internship he can find leads to you. He decided that if he plans to continue to persevere, then he will. After all, he was known for his tenacity before. 

Ruggie was surprised when one day, Leona started to become focus on his studies, Leona was sometimes going to class, just enough to the point he could be promoted to 4th year, where he could do internships.  He thought that Leona might have forgotten about you, which kind of annoyed him, was Leona only good at doing stuff in the first place and abandoning it once he realized it was futile? Of course not! Ruggie slapped his cheeks and shook his head, Leona could never, he’s mischaracterizing his Housewarden. 

While the search died down, plenty of students gave up because they kept reaching dead end after dead end in their search. Grim was often with Ace and Deuce, he noticed that the furball lost a lot of weight and he often seemed out of it. Most of the students who knew Grim understood the devastation of losing someone whom he treated as family. They try to get Grim to eat more, but he always ends up either overeating or not eating at all, the only housewardens who get him to eat normally are Vil and Riddle who have strict diets for him. Riddle is more lenient due to knowing Grim longer than Vil. 

The housewardens get split custody of the Cat, and the main custody being with Riddle, Ace, and Deuce. Leona barely gets any time with Grim, and when he does, he usually just gives him to Ruggie. One time, Grim got really upset at him though.

Leona flinched in pain, blood seeping out of his arm, a scratch mark forming on it. Jack jolted and grabbed Grim’s arms, subduing him immediately. “Grim! What are you doing!?” Jack yelled out, gripping on the squirming cat. 

 “You! Out of everyone here, you’re the one who’s always so calm and relaxed!” Grim cried out, glaring at the Lion. Leona glared at him as he used his magic to heal his arm. “Do you even care! You just gave up after a few months!” He continued, biting Jack making Jack let go out of pain, and when Grim jumped on Leona. He got grabbed by the scuffle. 

 “What makes you think I stopped trying to find them?!” Leona snapped, gripping on the cat, as if he’s a cub misbehaving, this was annoying, people thinking that he doesn’t do a lot when in fact he’s been giving more than just effort  “You think I’m not trying my best here!?” He lets Grim go who is surprised at his outburst. “Shit” He pinched the bridge of his nose, Jack carrying Grim again. “I’m really sorry Leona” He apologized on Grim’s behalf, but Leona just waved him off. “It’s fine,” he said, looking down at the cat. “But I want you to understand that some people just prefer doing work behind the scenes, just because you don’t see it doesn’t mean they’re not trying.” 

He really was trying. The you that was cuddling him in his dreams, playing with his hair and kissing him, telling him to do his best. That had kept him sane while trying to find you. It was stupid and pathetic, but at least he knew that somehow, he never forgot your face, your scent, and your voice even if it took years. Even once he graduated, even if Falena tried to set him up with other Beastwomen or some high-ranking princess. He rejected them all, in favor of waiting for you, despite not knowing if you’ll ever come back. 

He never even got to tell you his feelings before you vanished, if he did would that make you not go back to your own world? Even after a few years, your friends had already graduated, he was working in Sunset Savanna, temporarily because his brother asked him for help, he was busy jumping from place to place to maintain connections and build new ones so while his brother is gone, he was the one in charge, Cheka was already in Junior High school dreaming of getting inside Royal Sword Academy where his friends would be around as well as his father encouraging him to enroll there due to being an alumni, and his sister in law kept festering Leona about mates and stuff. 

Right, did he tell you that he kept the mirror that you vanished from to his room? When he finally graduated, he felt that he needed the mirror, so he decided to buy it from Crowley, who graciously gave him the mirror without any complaints. Sometimes, he looks at himself in the mirror, hoping to see you behind it. He really wishes you would come back. 

He went to sit down on the edge of his bed, sliding himself into the covers, his bed feeling cold and needing another, he stared at the ceiling, wishing in his mind that when he woke up, you’d be there, touching his cheek. 

Drifting into sleep, he dreamt of you again, a dream that he saw multiple times after you vanished, his head laying on the soft plush of your thighs, he stared up at you, who was looking down at him with a soft smile, he nuzzled the hand that you placed on his cheek, placing his hand on it as he guides your hand to his lips, kissing it. 

 “I miss you” he murmured in his dream, your hand felt incredibly warm and soft right now, it felt… real. Maybe whatever Deity from above decided to pity him today and give him your touch that he was constantly seeking.

He didn’t want to wake up, the warmth of the sun hitting his body except for his face which you were shielding it from. The moment he lifted himself up, to go nearer your face, he wanted to kiss you now or else he might never feel this surreal experience ever again, a blinding light suddenly flashed in his vision, causing him to flinch. 

 “Oh, sorry Leona” a familiar voice apologized, making him groan and blink a few times, was he still dreaming? He felt his head resting on something else and not his pillow, it felt softer. When he finally was fully awake, he realized that he was in fact, not dreaming anymore. He looked up only to see you, in the same position as you did in his dream. 

“Herbivore…” he froze as you rubbed his cheek gently. “Yes, I’m here” You hummed as you pushed away a bit of his hair just to see his face better. “Oh wow, Leona you became prettier!” you giggled, causing him to sit up, grabbing your cheeks, he examined you. He can’t believe it, it really is you, he’s not dreaming anymore. 

“How? What?” he questioned, glaring at you maybe this was a trap, if this was some doppelganger or some shapeshifter, he’d turn you to dust, but the way you weren’t scared of his glare made his will falter, you were warm, you were there, your scent was there too, nobody can replicate that.  “Herbivore you’re back” he finally caved in, pulling you into a crushing hug, which you gave back happily. “I’m back Leona, I’m sorry I vanished,” you said, burying your face into his shoulder. “You idiot, I definitely deserve an explanation for this” He growled out, not letting you go at all. 

Word Count: 2,359

[via-l0ve]

can u pls do supernatural boys reactions to u really liking cuddles, hugs, kisses and shit like that? like physical touch being ur love language

ty, luv ur work ♥︎♥︎♥︎

Physical Touch (SPN pref!)

a/n: IM BACK I SWEAR TO GOD GUYS IM BSCK IM BACK IM BACK

Warnings: fluff fluff fluff

dean:

Dean LOVES physical touch

that’s my dean headcannon

i love him and he loves cuddles and kisses and all that lovey shit

while sam is researching please just get on his lap and wrap your legs around him and just cuddle

he always has a hand on your back or holding your hand or a hand in your back pocket

always touching you

people think dean is all about making out with people but i feel like he would just kiss all over your face like muah muah muah until he’s covered every part of your face but your lips and then he kisses ur lips.

you’re a passenger princess in the impala

he has a glove box with all of your stuff in it

he just loves it.

—

Sam:

sam likes physical touch but not as much as dean

like please cuddle him all the time but also he has anger issues and needs minutes sometimes

but he just loves it most of the time

he’s always kissing your nose and forehead

he finds you asleep on the couch? he’s picking you up and taking you to cuddle.

he always wants to see you in his shirts and just kiss you all over the place

—

Castiel:

MY BABY!!!

cas would adore any kind of affection

he’s kind of a “head empty no thoughts” boy and so you can just kiss all over his face and he’ll keep talking

he’s talking to dean and you kiss his cheek twenty times and he never breaks

it’s honestly very cute and i love him so much

he always wants cuddles

always secretly has a wing around you

i just love him dude :(

he deserves the best.

—

Crowley:

PLEASE

please

please sit on his lap on his throne and just straddle him

he will BUST

(not a nut but ykwim)

he’s literally so happy to hold you

but he’s also a devil so he can’t hold you all the time

he’s got business to take care of

but when he can

he will

all the time

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Useless

Sam and Dean Winchester & little sister!reader, Demon Dean & little sister!reader

Requested by @abiball027

Synopsis: Dean does some things as a demon that everyone regrets.

Warnings: demon blood addiction, demon Dean gets the reader addicted to demon blood, kidnapping, this one’s kinda dark guys, angst with a happy ending.

Your body was on autopilot as it led you through the bunker. You didn’t even realize you were headed to Dean’s room until you stopped in front of his door, unable to go further. Your hand twitched towards the knob, but you stopped yourself from reaching out to grab it.

There was nothing in there you wanted to see. You didn’t want to look at Dean’s body again; you couldn’t.

You staggered in surprise when the door flung open. Dean’s frame filled the doorway, and it was all you could do to stay upright.

“De…what…” you caught sight of Crowley in the room behind him, and you directed your next words at the king of hell. “You—did you bring him back?”

You didn’t want to wait for an answer; in fact, you were a split second away from throwing yourself at your big brother when Crowley stepped between you.

“I wouldn’t do that; he’s still adjusting.”

“Adjusting? Crowley, what did you do?” You demanded, before shaking your head. “You know what, it doesn’t matter. I’ve gotta tell Sam.” You turned to go, but Dean’s hand shot out at an inhuman speed, and he held your arm in a vice grip.

“What—Dean?” You looked up in surprise at your big brother.

“No Sam,” he demanded, but his eyes seemed unfocused. That is, until he blinked and they flashed black. You wrestled your arm from him and stepped back, your hand going to the demon knife at your belt. You pulled it out, directing it at Crowley.

“You…” your voice shook with anger, and you nearly choked on it. “You let one of your filthy demons possess my brother?”

“Not exactly.” Crowley shrugged.

“What—“

Dean interrupted you.

“It’s all me, sweetheart.”

“That’s not possible.” You shook your head. “It can’t be.”

“Oh it’s Dean alright,” Crowley said. “Because of the Mark of Cain, he can’t be killed. I merely brought his soul out of its little…hibernation. Or, chrysalis, I suppose is a better analogy. And now he’s evolved into…well, this.”

Dean and Crowley’s matching grins turned your stomach.

“W-we…” you swallowed, trying to let your mind catch up with your racing heart. “We can fix this. We know how-how to cure demons. I can get Sam and we—“

“No!” Dean’s sudden tone change made you flinch. “I don’t want to be cured, and you’re not going to get Sam.”

“I-I don’t understand.” you shivered.

“No. You wouldn’t.” Dean chuckled darkly. “You wouldn’t understand power.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Don’t play dumb, sweetheart. You’ve always been the weak one, so you wouldn’t understand what having power feels like.” Dean’s eyes flashed black again, and you flinched. “Well I’ve got power now, and I like how it feels.”

“Stop it.” You shook your head, turning to Crowley. “Dean wouldn’t say this stuff. What did you do to him?” You yelped in surprise when Dean’s hands once again grabbed your arms.

“It’s all me, N/N. The new me. The better me.”

You tried to break free from Dean’s grip, but he wouldn’t let go. Crowley stepped forwards, putting a hand on Dean’s shoulder.

“We should get out of here while Moose is still gone.”

“You’re right.” Dean didn’t release his grip on your arm. “But I’m bringing her with.”

“What?” You and Crowley asked in horrified unison.

“Dean, you agreed to leave it all behind. You said you didn’t want—“

“I said I didn’t want Sam stopping me,” Dean interrupted Crowley. “She’s not strong enough to do anything to me.” Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment as Dean continued. “But, with a little help, she could be useful.”

“Help?” Crowley frowned. “How could she do anything for us?”

“She can…” Dean’s eyes flashed black—it seemed to be his new favorite trick. “If I give her a taste of power.” Dean shoved you towards Crowley. “Hold her still.”

Crowley took hold of your arms without question, although he was clearly hesitant.

Dean took the demon knife out of your hands easily, and he sliced a small cut on the heel of his hand.

“What are you—“

Dean took advantage of your mouth being open by pressing the heel of his hand to your lips. You froze up as Dean’s other hand came up to plug your nose.

He’d completely cut off your air, and you struggled as the metallic taste of Dean’s blood invaded your mouth. He and Crowley easily held you still, and Dean kept his hand there for several seconds before moving it so that his palm was covering your mouth. No more blood was going in, but you still couldn’t breathe.

“Swallow and I’ll let you go,” Dean said. You continued to struggle, but it was useless. “C’mon little sister, just swallow.”

You struggled until you felt dizzy and your lungs were screaming. You swallowed almost without meaning to, the bitter taste of Dean’s blood invading your senses. Dean and Crowley released you simultaneously.

You backed away from both men, stumbling against the wall as you gasped for breath. You didn’t even know what to say; you were too confused, too hurt, too scared.

“What was that?” Crowley asked, sounding as confused as you felt.

“Like I told you,” Dean growled. “With a little power, this little rugrat might be useful. And since I’m the one controlling the power…” Dean waved a hand over his cut wrist, and it healed itself. “I’m the one who she has to listen to. The perfect little sidekick.”

You didn’t need to hear anything more. You turned on your heel and tried to run, but Dean grabbed onto your arms and flung you against the wall. The back of your head hit the wall, and suddenly you couldn’t see or feel anything.

…

You awoke to the gentle purr of the Impala, and for a long moment you couldn’t tell what was going on. Were you on a hunt? You couldn’t remember. Then you tried to move your hands to rub your face, and they stopped, impeded by something metal. Your eyes fluttered open, and the first thing you saw was your hands cuffed to the back of Dean’s seat. Crowley was in the passenger seat, and the memories came back almost instantly.

“She’s awake,” Crowley said.

“Ahh, good morning sweetheart,” Dean grinned, a sickeningly sinister smirk that looked nothing like your big brother.

“Where are we? Where are we going?” You looked out the windows, but the road sides were no help to your poor sense of direction.

Dean just chuckled.

“Wherever we want.”

…

The three of you drove all day, and once the sun lowered behind the horizon line, Dean pulled into a seedy motel. He opened his door and came around to your door. He didn’t unlock your cuffs; instead, he pulled a flask from his back pocket and unscrewed it, bringing it up to your mouth. You knew it was his blood before the liquid touched your lips, but again your struggles were futile as Dean held his hands over your mouth and nose until you swallowed.

“See, that’s not so bad,” Dean cooed even as you shuddered. “A few more of these and you’ll be so hooked, you’ll be begging me for another hit.”

Crowley watched with an unreadable expression as Dean freed your wrists from the handcuffs and led you inside the motel. Within minutes, Dean had you cuffed to the air conditioner in his room, and he and Crowley were off to party at the nearest bar. You tried to wiggle around to reach into your pocket, only to discover that Dean must’ve taken your phone and lock picking kit while you were knocked out. With nothing to focus on, you became acutely aware of the hunger pangs that were becoming more frequent: you hadn’t eaten since you’d been in the bunker. But soon, a different hunger took hold of you. It was unfamiliar, and it hurt worse than normal hunger. Fear began to nag at you, but you shook it off. You couldn’t be hooked on demon blood already, could you?

You couldn’t be sure, and that only flamed your panic. This whole situation was crazy, and you didn’t know how to adjust; Dean, a demon; you, kidnapped; and demon blood being fed to you no matter how much you tried to resist. Your mind played around with the idea that it wasn’t really Dean—that Crowley had lied and it really was some random demon inside your brother’s corpse—but you knew that Crowley, as devious as he was, had no reason to lie.

And that meant that it really was your big brother, trying to turn you into a demon blood addict just so that he could use you.

“We’re back!” Dean crowed triumphantly, snapping you out of your thoughts as he entered the motel with Crowley at his heels. A fast food bag was tossed into your lap, and Dean reached over your head and released you from the handcuffs. You chowed down on the burger without hesitation—you were too hungry to be ornery—noting in the back of your mind that Dean had remembered exactly how you liked your food; maybe he was still in there somewhere.

To your dismay, the food could only satisfy so much, and that unfamiliar pain lingered. You felt your eyes unintentionally slipping towards Dean’s flask, and unfortunately Dean noticed too. A wide grin split his face as he looked from you to his flask.

“Knew it wouldn’t take much to have you hooked,” he said, and when you started to shake your head in a panic his gaze softened—if only slightly. “Hey now,” he soothed, coming to sit by you and pulling out his flask. “It hurts, right?” At your hesitant nod, he continued. “I know it does. Now let your big brother take the pain away, ok?”

His tone was so familiar, and yet so unfamiliar at the same time. Soothing words that Dean might say to you before stitching up a wound—but that was not what was happening now. Dean’s voice was gentle, but his eyes held a dead indifference that had never been directed at you, not from Dean. Everything felt so wrong, and you were so overwhelmed and hurting that you could do nothing but cry softly as Dean lifted the flask to your lips and forced the liquid down your throat. He didn’t even bother to plug your nose, as you were too tired to fight him—you swallowed with no protest other than the tears tracking down your cheeks.

White hot shame filled you along with the demon blood. You had more fight in you than this, you knew you did. But this was different.

You’d never expected to be fighting against your brother, and that thought alone drained all of the fight in you.

“There it is.” Dean’s smirk turned your stomach, and you were already starting to regret eating that burger. “See? Feels good, doesn’t it?”

You tried to turn away from him, but he grabbed onto your shoulder.

“C’mon, I’m gonna cuff you near the couch so you can get some sleep.”

Dean cuffed your hands to the nightstand next to the couch. You could lay on the couch with your arms stretched over your head; it was uncomfortable, but better than the floor you supposed.

To your surprise, you fell asleep quickly, drained from the long day on edge. But it was a fitful sleep, and some time in the middle of the night you awoke panting. It took you a moment to realize what was different; you weren’t handcuffed anymore. You looked down in your lap to see the cuffs in three pieces. You stared down at your hands; had you done that?

A groan from one of the beds had you flinching as Dean sat up. His eyes found you in the dark, and your heart skipped a beat when you saw the black abyss that used to be your brothers bright green eyes. Then he blinked, and the green was there, but it wasn’t the same.

“Go back to sleep,” he demanded, and you were laying back down when he suddenly got up. You felt your body shaking as Dean approached you; you’d never been more scared of anyone than you were of Dean right now.

“Seems the demon blood is working,” Dean chuckled as he held up the broken cuffs. His eyes flickered to you. “How does power feel, little sister?”

You didn’t know how to answer that question. You didn’t feel powerful. Sure, you could break steel without even meaning to, but you had no power over your situation; if anything you felt more helpless than you ever had.

Unless…

Remembering Sam’s powers when he’d been drinking demon blood, you pushed your hand out in front of you. Before you even made contact with Dean, he staggered back and fell—you had telekinesis!

You jumped up from the couch and ran for the door. It had the door-block on it, but it tore loose when you yanked the door open. You took one stride out into the night air before strong arms wrapped around your midsection and flung you backwards, back into the motel room.

“Your powerful, little sister,” Dean chuckled darkly. “But not more powerful than me.”

You backed away, not even looking where you were going as you tried to escape your approaching brother. Your foot caught on the desk, and you went down hard, but you kept backing away, using your hands to scoot back. It didn’t do much, and when Dean reached you he gripped your shoulder and dragged you to your feet. He shoved you back down onto the couch, and turned and walked out the door without another word. You sat there in confusion until Dean returned—presumably from the Impala—with thick chains in his hands.

“This should hold you for a bit longer.” He smirked. “At least until I can get you so addicted to blood that you won’t leave.”

“That’s not going to happen,” you insisted.

Dean just laughed.

…

The pain was all consuming; you could think of nothing else. You were hungry, too, and thirsty, and your back ached from sleeping on the couch; but none of that mattered. All you could think about was blood.

You found yourself suddenly much more sympathetic towards Sam; sure, you’d felt bad for him—you knew his addiction had hurt like crazy—but you’d never felt it before. It was a new kind of pain in a world where you thought you’d experienced every kind.

What made it hurt worse was knowing that it was your big brother inflicting this pain, and not to get you un-hooked on demon blood; he was doing it to teach you some kind of sick lesson. Or maybe he thought it would get you even more addicted; if so, it was working.

After your little stunt trying to run away, Dean had chained you up to the wall, gagged you, and left with Crowley. That was yesterday; he hadn’t returned, even when night came and went. He knew the withdrawal pains would hit you like a truck; you figured that was the point.

What if it wasn’t a lesson? What if he was just sick of dragging you around, and he left you there? His words wouldn’t stop echoing in your head…

“You’ve always been the weak one…”

You’d always felt that way, but to hear Dean—even a black-eyed Dean—say it out loud hurt more than you wanted to admit.

And the fact that, even with demon blood in you, you couldn’t break out of the chains Dean put on you seemed to aid his description of you.

Were you really so pathetic that you were only useful when pumped full of demon blood?

“Hiya sweetheart, did you miss me?”

You’d been so lost that you didn’t even notice Dean enter the hotel room until he was right in front of you, unlocking your cuffs and pulling the gag down. When he was done, you felt your hands grip onto his arm of their own accord, and your eyes found his pleadingly. You wanted to pretend you didn’t know what you were pleading for—food, maybe? Water? But you and Dean knew all too well.

“You did miss me,” Dean said with a grin. “Is this what you want?” Dean held up a fast food bag. You hadn’t eaten in a day, you should have wanted it.

But you didn’t even look at it.

“No?” Dean put the bag down and picked up a water bottle. “How about this? Not this either?”

“Dean…” you mumbled, your eyes slipping down to your hands. “It…it hurts, Dean.”

“Aww.” Dean chuckled. You knew he was patronizing you, but you didn’t care. You just wanted him to make the pain go away.

“What about this?” Your eyes lifted to see Dean pulling out his flask. You saw a hand reach out for it, surprised when you realized it was your own. Dean wouldn’t let you touch it, though. He pulled it out of reach, shaking his head. “Don’t touch, sweetheart. That’s my job.”

You didn’t move as Dean opened the flask and lifted it to your face. You wished you could pretend that he was forcing you to drink the blood, but it wasn’t true anymore. He really had gotten you hooked.

The only question now was what would Sammy do when he found you?

…

The next few weeks fell into a regime. You tagged along while Dean and Crowley dragged you to town after town, bar after bar, motel after motel. After the first week, Dean stopped using the chains; he didn’t need them anymore. The resourceful, smart Winchester in the back of your mind knew that he was training you like a dog—when you listened, he let you drink from his flask; when you disobeyed, he let you suffer—but there was nothing you could do. You couldn’t resist the demon blood anymore, it hurt too much. And a part of you—the part desperate to please your big brother—didn’t want to. Dean thought you were useless without powers, and you didn’t have it in you to disagree anymore. The only reason Dean even wanted you around was that you had powers. Without that…

You were snapped out of your thoughts when Crowley approached you and Dean.

“We need to talk,” he said to Dean.

“So talk,” Dean said with a shrug. “She won’t bother us.” Dean waved offhandedly at you.

That’s all you were now; the sidekick, the tool, meant to stand aside and keep quiet.

“I don’t think you want her to hear this.” When Dean didn’t respond, Crowley sighed and continued. “Moose called.”

You stiffened, and Dean noticed.

“Go take a walk, N/N,” Dean said. You didn’t argue—you’d given up on that—but you did hesitate. Dean blinked, his eyes flashing black, and you flinched. “I said take a walk.”

You left without another word, but your brain was going a million miles a minute.

Sam called? Was he coming? Would he fix Dean…and you?

…

You returned to Dean when he waved you over.

Like an obedient little puppy, you thought disgustedly. You thought you’d given up on your pride and your dignity weeks ago, but the thought of Sam returning to see you like this brought it all rushing back.

“Here.” Dean pulled out his flask when you approached him. You stiffened and you had to force your head to turn away from your big brother. Dean scoffed, “One mention of Sammy and now you’re all high and mighty?” Dean’s fingers clenched around your jaw, and he turned your chin to face him. “Let me make this clear; drink now, or I won’t let you for the next two days.”

Your breath caught in your throat; the most he’d ever cut you off was for about a day, and that had been one of the most painful days of your life. You couldn’t do it, you knew you couldn’t.

Dean let go of your face, and you tilted your head up slightly, your lips parting just a little. It was all the assent that Dean needed.

“That’s what I thought,” he huffed, uncapping his flask.

What had you gotten yourself into?

…

You’d been getting better and better with your powers. Dean had had you practicing, mostly on random demons that Crowley let get too close to him.

The better you got, the more you began to think that Dean was right; you had been useless before, never able to help your brothers. Now you could help—now you had power.

Every time you got better with your powers, Dean would flash you a wide grin—it was cocky, not at all like his old proud smile—but it was good to see nonetheless. It felt good to do something for your big brother. It felt like you were finally repaying him for everything he had done for you.

“Pick a side!”

You were snapped out of your thoughts by Crowley’s outburst. You had followed Dean into Crowley’s demon meeting after Dean murdered one of Crowley’s clients. After weeks around Crowley, you tended to tune him out, but now he seemed heated, and Dean was tense beside you.

“Or what?” Dean asked before shoving a Crowley across the floor. Crowley got up in a huff, glancing around as if to see if his demons had noticed—of course they had.

“This—“ Crowley gestured between himself and Dean “—is over. You’re too unpredictable.”

“Ok,” Dean said, a nonchalant smile gracing his lips. “How’s this for unpredictable?” And suddenly he was looking at you, eyes boring into you as if you could read his mind. To your surprise, you could; or at least, you knew what he wanted. He wanted to piss Crowley off—he wanted you to exorcise all of Crowley’s goons. You’d only ever exorcised one at a time, which was a far cry from the five that surrounded you now.

Still, your big brother wanted something from you, and you were going to do your best.

You closed your eyes in concentration, holding your hand out as almost an anchor. You could feel the power pulsing through your blood, as if the demon blood was intertwining with your own. You heard screams of pain from the demons, but you blocked them out, hyper-focused. When the screaming stopped, you opened your eyes to see five empty vessels strewn across the floor. Your attention turned to Crowley, your hand still outstretched.

He staggered back a half step, but Dean reached out and pushed your hand down.

“Hey, easy—not him sweetheart.”

Your attention turned to Dean at his words, and there it was; that proud grin. Your lips twitched up even as you thought that you missed the way the old Dean would let you know he was proud of you. The way that he’d smile a real smile, and ruffle your hair, and say, “Good job, kid.”

Instead, this Dean smirked and pulled his flask out of his back pocket, holding it for you to drink from even as he turned his attention back to Crowley.

“You want unpredictable? You want this to be over? Good; I don’t need you, I never did.” Dean capped his flask and turned to go.

He didn’t even look back to see if you would follow; he knew you would.

…

You sat on a stool beside a piano in an empty bar, watching Dean play around with the keys. It had been hours since he’d let you have a drink, but every time you tapped his arm he just snapped at you to leave him be. You were doing just that—sitting quietly and watching your big brother—when the door to the bar opened.

“Sam!” You jumped up before you’d even fully registered that it was Sam who’d walked in the door. When you started towards him, Dean’s voice stopped you.

“No.”

It was just the one word, but it was enough. Your body acted almost if its own accord, stopping the instant the word was out of Dean’s mouth. You’d gotten used to obeying him without question lately, and it was a habit you weren’t so sure you could break.

“Commere,” Dean said, and again you listened, going to stand beside him as he stood from the piano bench.

Your eyes drifted to Sam, who was looking from Dean to you in utter confusion.

“Good.” Dean’s voice brought your attention back to him, and you saw him reaching into his back pocket for his flask. Your stomach dropped to your toes; that was why he wouldn’t let you drink earlier. He suspected that Sam was coming, and he wanted you to be desperate enough to drink in front of him. Your heart caught in your throat as you stared up at Dean, as if he could somehow undo what he’d already done. He just smirked at you as he uncapped the flask and held it up.

Your body was screaming for it—you’d been achy, pain stiffening your muscles for at least an hour—you needed it. Keeping your eyes downcast so that you didn’t have to see Sam’s face, you took a half step closer to Dean and let him tilt the contents of the flask into your mouth.

“What are you doing?” Sam lurched forward, recognizing the substance immediately. “Dean, you can’t! Y/N, stop!”

“Aww, it’s not her fault, Sammy,” Dean chuckled as he pulled the flask away and capped it. “She was never gonna be strong enough to stop me.”

You ducked your head in shame even as your nerves were screaming for more blood. You couldn’t bear to even look in Sam’s direction.

“Dean, what did you do?” Sam demanded, panic lacing his tone.

“Made her useful!” Dean insisted, still grinning like this was all a great joke. “You should see her now, Sammy. She exorcised five demons all at once today, I bet she’s pretty tired out.”

Despite yourself, your lips twitched up in a small smile at Dean’s words. He was bragging on you to Sam—it was nice to hear.

“Useful?” Sam’s scoff brought the shame back. “Dean, she’s not an object! She’s not some kind of tool for you to use! She’s our sister!”

“So what? She was useless before, a weak and pathetic tag-along. I finally brought some purpose to her life.”

You bit down hard on your lip to keep it from quivering. You kept your gaze down so you didn’t have to see either of your brothers.

“Dean, stop it!” Sam yelled.

“Fine.” Dean shrugged. “You want me to stop? Try and bring her back. She won’t go, I’ve got her hooked more than you ever were.”

Dean stepped back, watching from the other side of the piano while Sam approached you. You kept your eyes on your shoes even as you heard Sam approaching.

“Honey, hey, look at me.” Sam came to a stop mere inches from you. Your breaths picked up as tears blurred your vision, but you forced yourself to blink them back and look up at your brother. The hate that you were expecting wasn’t there, neither was the disgust or the anger. Instead, Sam’s eyes were gentle; understanding. “I can help you. You don’t have to keep doing this.”

“But…” Dean’s words swam around in your head, and they were all you could think of. “But without this I’m useless. I wanna be useful. I’m useful, Sammy, I’m powerful!”

Sam’s gaze never wavered.

“But are you happy?”

You stopped. You’d been so worried about being useful to Dean, that you hadn’t even thought about…

Your head shook slowly from side to side, the tears returning. Sam’s gaze softened even more.

“Oh, sweetheart…”

“I’m…I’m sorry, Sam,” you whimpered, finally letting the tears fall. “I-I didn’t mean to—but I can’t st-stop.” You covered your face with your hands as you sobbed, and you flinched when you felt Sam’s hand on your shoulder.

“Shh, hey…” Sam pulled you into his embrace, and you felt him press a kiss to the top of your head as he rubbed your back. “Honey it’s ok. We can fix this, I just gotta take you home.”

“She’s not gonna leave me, Sammy,” Dean mocked. “I’ve got her hooked.”

“You’re coming too,” Sam directed at him. “I didn’t just come for her. We can cure demons, Dean.”

“Did you even stop to think that if I wanted to be cured, I wouldn’t have left? And I certainly wouldn’t have gotten our little sister addicted to demon blood just to cut off her supply.” Dean jeered, laughing. “I mean, what kind of brother would do that?”

“Enough, Dean! I’m bringing you back whether you want to come or not.” Sam reached into his back pocket and pulled out a pair of demon cuffs.

“Do you really think those will hold me?” Dean scoffed.

“We’re about to find out,” Sam sighed.

A hiss filled the air, followed by smoke that separated both of your brothers from your sight.

“Sam! Dean!” Your cries were followed by a fit of coughing when you breathed in the gas. A hand on your shoulder turned your attention to Dean, who was trying to drag you towards the door.

“Sammy,” you protested, searching through the gas for your brother.

“He’s fine,” Dean growled, pulling harder. “Now come on.”

“No!” You yanked your arm from Dean’s grasp. He didn’t try to grab you again; he didn’t think he had to.

“Y/N, come. That’s an order.”

You gritted your teeth, shoving down the pain in your body that begged you to listen to Dean.

“Screw your orders.”

Dean’s eyes flashed black as he advanced on you.

“You little—“

You didn’t hesitate—you lifted your hands and used the telekinesis that Dean had given you to fling him across the room. You turned your back, not even bothering to see where he landed.

…

You found Sam easily, and the two of you made it out of the building after Dean. The minute Sam stepped foot out the door, a man came out of nowhere and knocked him out.

“Sam!” You knelt next to your big brother, glancing in fear at the man who’d hit him. He hesitated when he saw you were just a kid.

“Stay out of my way, or you’re next,” he warned before turning to face Dean. You remembered Dean mentioning that a man was after him; you had no doubt that Dean would win this fight, so you turned your attention to waking Sam up—he was your only chance at bringing Dean home.

“Sammy, come on,” you urged. He only stirred once Dean and the other man were finished their fight—Dean won, but he didn’t kill the other man, to your surprise.

“Just stay here,” Sam instructed, shaking off his headache as he stood, demon cuffs held with his injured arm—you wondered suddenly how he’d been hurt—and holy water in the other hand.

You stayed back as Sam approached Dean from behind. It was over in mere seconds—Dean, distracted by the holy water, was unable to fight off the cuffs that Sam slapped on him.

“Dean, stop! It’s over.”

…

You got into the passenger’s seat after Sam ushered Dean into the back. Sam was outside, passing off the First Blade to Crowley.

“You picked the wrong side,” Dean said, and the sound of his voice made you flinch.

“Says the one in the handcuffs,” you shot back, but your voice was much too shaky for Dean to take seriously.

“Oh, this won’t last,” Dean said, lifting his hands. “And once these come off, you’re going to regret using those powers on me.”

…

You breathed easier when Sam returned to the Impala, and the three of you were off. Sam and Dean were arguing about Dean’s fight with that man, Cole. Sam was convinced that because Dean let him live, there was still some good in him.

“Letting him live was the worst thing I could’ve done to him,” Dean chuckled. “And that’s nothing compared to what I’m going to you.” Sam swallowed nervously, but Dean continued. “Or to our little sister.” You nearly jumped out of your seat when Dean kicked it.

“Stop it,” Sam demanded. “She…she didn’t do anything.”

“Oh, she picked her side,” Dean insisted. “And she picked wrong.”

…

You were shaking by the time the Impala reached the bunker. Sam kept glancing at you out of the corner of his eye, recognizing the symptoms; you needed more blood.

“Stay here,” he instructed as he stepped out to get Dean. “I’m gonna get him settled downstairs and I’ll come back for you.”

Sure enough, a few minutes later Sam returned and led you to your room.

“You know what I have to do, right?” He asked gently. You nodded.

“Tie me down and lock me up, right?”

“I’m sorry,” Sam said. “I don’t want to, but—“

“But there’s a demon in the bunker, and I’m about to go through extreme withdrawals,” you finished. “I-I know Sam. It’s not your fault.” Your gaze was glued to your fidgeting hands.

“Hey, look at me.” When you met his gaze, Sam continued. “It’s not your fault either. I know you didn’t want it.”

“I started to.” You swallowed the lump in your throat. “Af-after a while, I started to want it. The power…all of it.”

“It’s ok.” Sam pulled you close, and his embrace made you feel more at home than you had in weeks. “I know how that feels, but we’re gonna fix it. I’m gonna be right here.”

When he pulled away, you took a deep breath.

“I’m ready.”

…

You were wrong. Dead wrong, and so was Sam. Sam was killing you, you were sure of it.

Of course, that was the withdrawal talking, but you were too far deep in your pain to know that. All you knew was that you’d never hurt this much in your life, and the way to make the pain go away was right downstairs, but Sam wouldn’t let you near it.

“I need Dean,” you cried for the thousandth time. “Sammy, please!” You were in too much pain to even notice that Sam wasn’t there, and he hadn’t been in to check on you in a while. In fact, you were so distracted that you didn’t even notice the door opening, and the very person you were begging for walking in.

“I told you you picked the wrong side,” Dean chuckled, his voice grabbing your attention.

“Dean,” you whimpered, in too much pain to be scared or curious that he’d gotten out. “Dean, please.”

“You know—“ Dean sighed as he began to undo the straps holding your legs. “You talk too much.” Once both your legs were free, Dean made his way near your head. You swallowed hard as Dean picked up a knife that you’d left on your dresser. “So I think I’ve found the perfect punishment for you. I mean, you did use your powers on me. Did you think I was just going to forget that?”

“P-punishment?” You asked nervously.

“Yeah,” Dean glared down at you, his eyes flashing black. “First, I’m gonna cut off your tongue. Then, I’m gonna give you so much blood, that you won’t be able to think straight. Then you’re gonna help me kill Sammy, then Crowley. And if you ever disobey me again, I’ll slit your throat.” Dean grinned. “How’s that for a little brotherly love?”

Dean’s knife was inching closer to your mouth, his other hand gripping your face to keep you still, when the lights went out. Dean released you, and a tense silence filled the bunker for a moment or two before the emergency lights clicked on, red light casting an eery glow throughout your room.

“Looks like it’s your lucky day,” Dean said to you. “Now that I know where Sammy is, you can wait; after all, you’re not going anywhere.”

All you could do was watch as Dean turned and walked out, intent on killing your brother.

…

You were struggling against the restraints to no avail when Sam came bursting into the room.

“Did he hurt you?” Sam demanded, alarmed when you suddenly burst into tears.

“I-I thought he was gonna kill you,” you cried.

“It’s ok, I’m ok,” Sam assured you as he started to undo you restraints.

“Don’t!” You insisted. “I’m…I don’t think I’m clean yet.”

Sam halted his movements, his eyes trained on your face.

“He didn’t hurt you?” Sam asked.

“He didn’t get the chance.” You sniffled. “W…where is he?”

“Chained up again,” Sam sighed. “Cas is watching him. I think…I think maybe he’s almost human now.”

“Go to him,” you insisted. “I’ll be ok here until I’m clean, really.” Somehow, Dean’s threats had strengthened your resolve to stay away from demon blood. “Go bring our Dean back.”

…

“I want to see her.”

Sam was adamant. “You can’t, not yet.”

Dean sighed, rubbing his newly-freed hands over his face.

“Why not?”

Before Sam could answer, a cry of pain could be heard from your room. Sam cringed.

“She…she’s still in detox. She could go nuts if she sees you, even though you’re not a demon anymore. We can’t take that chance.”

Dean didn’t argue; he knew Sam was right. Still, the next two days were complete torture as he was forced to stay away from you, listening to your pleas for him. Every time you called out his name was a reminder that it was Dean’s fault that you were hurting.

“I’m sorry,” he found himself whispering over and over under his breath every time you cried out; he was desperate to tell you in person.

After those awful two days, the screaming stopped. Dean was already halfway to your room when he was stopped by Sam.

“She’s ok,” Sam insisted. “I think she’s clean. I just took her restraints off.”

“Ok,” Dean said simply, trying to move past Sam and toward your door. Sam moved in front of him.

“She’s sleeping. She needs it.”

Dean deflated, discouraged.

“What is this, Sam? Are you really trying to help her, or do you just not trust me?” He knew he was being unfair, but he had to know.

“It’s not about you,” Sam assured him, clearly pushing away his hurt at Dean’s implication. “She needs rest. Besides, I…I don’t know how she’ll react to seeing you again, and I don’t want to push her faster than I need to.”

Dean was silent for a long moment, before finally asking the question that had been nagging at him for days.

“Do you think she hates me?”

Sam looked pained, as if he had expected the question.

“Right now I…I almost wish she did,” Sam said. “Because I think she hates herself more than anything.”

…

You’d been awake for about twenty minutes, but you hadn’t moved. At least, your body hadn’t moved; your mind was going at a breakneck speed. You remembered briefly that Sam had said Dean was cured, but you couldn’t be sure if you’d imagined it in your withdrawal fog. You were pretty sure that most of yesterday had been a hallucination. Sam had insisted that he wouldn’t let Dean in, yet there he had been, jeering at you, saying again and again that the second you were clean, you’d be useless again.

You knew it wasn’t real, it couldn’t be. But the hallucination had been right anyway.

The sound of the door opening had your head turning, but your mind still hadn’t left its dark corner.

“Hey,” Sam greeted, and even though the door was only open a little, you could see Dean standing behind him. That only lasted for a moment before Sam squeezed himself into your room and shut the door behind him. “How are you?”

“He doesn’t want to see me?” Your eyes remained glued to the door where Dean had been standing, even as you sat up.

“What?” Sam frowned. “Of course he does, I just…I wanted to check with you first. Are you gonna be ok to see him?”

You nodded. “If…” you were suddenly nervous at the thought of seeing Dean after everything. “If he wants to.”

“Of course he does. Why wouldn’t he?”

Shame bubbled up in you as you thought about the past few weeks, and you ducked your head, unwilling to answer Sam’s question. He didn’t push it; instead, he turned to go, leaving the door open so that Dean could take his place.

“Hey sweetheart,” Dean greeted gently, and you heard rather than felt your breath pick up at the sound of his voice. You kept your eyes downcast.

What did Dean think of you? You remembered how disappointed and angry he had been with Sam when Sam had gotten hooked on demon blood. Would Dean hate you now? Would he finally see you as the burden you’d always been, now that you didn’t have powers anymore?

“Sweetheart, would you look at me?” When your eyes met his, you saw not anger or disappointment, but sadness. That was too much for you. The tears came suddenly and soundlessly. “Oh, kiddo…” Dean sighed, reaching his hands out to comfort you. However, you’d spent too much time with the rough, angry demon Dean to see comfort in his hands. When you flinched back, Dean stopped immediately, returning his hands to his sides. “I’m sorry, I…” Dean’s voice cracked. “I didn’t come here to scare you, I just wanted to apologize. I know that doesn’t make up for what I did, but…but I wanted you to know.”

You looked up suddenly, not surprised but doubtful. You’d expected an apology from Dean, but you hadn’t expected it to sound quite so sincere; you’d expected underlying disappointment at least.

“You…” you swallowed. “You’re not upset with me?”

“With you?” Dean was confused. “Why would I be upset with you?”

You ducked your head as the tears returned.

“I-I was weak,” you choked out. “I’m still weak.”

“Hey, hey.” Dean tilted your chin up with his fingers, his hands as gentle as could be on your skin. “None of this—not one bit—was your fault. I did this to you, and I don’t blame you, not for a second. Understand?”

You were shaking your head.

“I-I should’ve—“

“There was nothing you coulda done to stop me,” Dean said, self-loathing lacing his every word. “And I know how impossible it is to stop on your own after you’ve started, I’d never blame you for getting addicted.”

You stayed silent as you processed his words. Once you had, you felt the need to speak again.

“I don’t blame you either,” you insisted. “You weren’t the same—demon you. It wasn’t anything like you, it wasn’t your fault.”

Dean looked dubious, but he also didn’t bother to argue. Comfortable silence reigned for several minutes before he spoke again.

“How do you feel?”

“Starving,” you answered honestly, to which Dean smiled.

“You wanna take a little trip? You and me, I’ll take you to get some food.”

The idea of Dean bundling you into the Impala and driving off—without Sam nonetheless—had terror gripping your heart, accelerating its pace. You didn’t blame Dean for what he’d done, but the memories were still all too fresh.

“Or,” Dean countered, instantly noting your panicked expression. “Or I could go and get something to bring back, and you, me, and Sammy could have a movie night?”

You nodded—that sounded perfect. Dean was just turning to go when you stopped him.

“Dean? Does…is there any part of you that wishes I’d stayed that way?”

“What way?” Dean’s brows drew together, whether in concern or confusion you couldn’t tell. “You mean, addicted to demon blood?”

“I just mean…” you struggled to force the words out. “I mean…useful.”

Deans face fell, and you regretted asking.

“What?”

“I-I mean, I don’t really do anything around here. At least then, I—“

“Stop.” You weren’t sure if it was the seriousness of his tone, or the fact that you’d spent the last few weeks obeying his every word, but you shut up immediately when Dean spoke. “I want you to listen to me very carefully,” Dean said slowly and deliberately, and again you stayed obediently silent. “Nothing about what I did to you was good, ok? And you are not useless. Actually,” Dean waved his hand in front of his face dismissively. “Forget about use. Sam was right, you’re not some tool, ok? You’re important to us, and not because of what you can do. But even if it was about that, you do so much for us. You’ve been with me and Sammy through everything, and that matters way more than you moving stuff with your mind, ok?”

Despite the tears that were still falling, you felt a smile tug at your lips.

“Ok, Dean.”

“Ok,” Dean said with a firm nod. “Go find Sam, and I’ll head out for food.”

You stood almost mechanically and headed for the door without a word. Dean recognized your stance with a silent horror.

“Hey,” Dean’s voice was shaky as he reached out and grabbed your hand. “That…it wasn’t an order, ok? I’m not making you do anything, I—“

“I know,” you interrupted, understanding his horror. “It’s just…habit, I-I guess. Shut up and obey, you know?” You wished you hadn’t added that last part when you saw Dean stiffen ever so slightly, swallowing hard.

“I’m so—“

“Don’t apologize again,” you pleaded. “I forgive you, ok? I-I guess I just need to unlearn some things.”

Dean nodded, but you could tell he was still beating himself up inside. You took two strides and reached him, pulling him into an embrace. His arms enveloped you entirely, and you realized that you’d forgotten how much you missed him.

“Tell me if I can help with that, ok?” He said.

“Ok,” you promised. “Now go get me some food, I’m starving.”

Dean’s chest rumbled next to your ear as he chuckled.

“Yes ma’am.”

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