#crowley/reader

[happy74827]

The Demon With A Heart

[Crowley x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: When Crowley saves your life, you can't help but think it was a little more than self-interest.

WC: 1858

Category: 99.9% Sexual Tension (lmfao), 0.01% Fluff + Angst? {TW: Mentions of Demons (obvi), Murder}

Crowley is too iconic not to have fics. I said what I said.

『••✎••』

You didn’t know how to react. It was as if your tongue was taken away, and you couldn’t talk, no matter how much you wanted to thank the man.

No, the demon.

You stood there with wide eyes, staring at the King of Hell, Crowley. He looked the same as before: a clean suit, a snarky comment, and a look of disgust on his face. But, instead of being on the opposite side, he was wiping the blood off of the angel blade he used to kill the angel that jumped you.

He just saved you—The King of Hell.

The very man who told Sam and Dean countless times that he doesn't do anything for free and doesn’t help people without getting something out of it. Yet, here he was, standing in front of you, not asking for a single thing.

The thought was a bit unsettling.

"Purely out of self-interest, darling," He says, breaking the silence and putting the stolen blade into his jacket. "Call it a favor that I plan to collect in the future."

He was about to leave, but you couldn’t let him go. Not without a thank you, at least. You didn't want him to think you didn’t appreciate what he did.

"Crowley."

The man turns back around, his hands in his pockets, his expression unreadable.

"Thank you."

The corner of his mouth turned upward, forming a small smirk. He didn’t say anything but rather kept his eyes on you for a second longer. He then disappeared, leaving you in the dark.

And it did leave you in the dark. For days, weeks, months. He never came for that favor, and he never brought up what happened. In fact, he barely talked to you at all. It was always towards the Winchesters.

You began to believe it was nothing but a dream. That Crowley somehow didn't save you. The angel was a fake, and this was all some sick joke. It felt like gaslighting.

But you knew what happened was real. You remembered the blood splatter and the dead corpse. The way his face contorted when he pierced the angel's heart.

It was all too real.

So, why was he ignoring you? Why did he pretend that it never happened? Was he going to hold it over your head? Or was it just the fact that the King of Hell did something nice for a human?

Was it because he… cared?

One night, you got your answer. It was a quiet night filled with books, tea, and soft music. At least, it was before those idiotic brothers decided to tear down the bunker in search of some book.

You couldn’t remember the exact reason they needed it, but you were too tired to argue. So, you stayed in your room and tried to fall asleep.

That is until the lights went out and the emergency lights kicked on. Okay, now you were annoyed. You got up, slipped on your shoes and a coat, and walked out of your room.

"Alright, what did you two-"

You paused mid-sentence, eyes falling onto the figure in the library. The man was facing the opposite way, but you knew exactly who it was. The familiar black suit and hair gave it away.

"Crowley…"

"Hello, Darling,” he replied, turning around and smiling at you. It was almost unnerving. He didn’t have a malicious aura or even an evil one. Just... a smile.

You looked behind him and noticed… well, nothing. You were expecting the Winchesters to be with him, and yet, it was just him.

"Where are the boys?"

"Moose and Squirrel? Ah, they're off somewhere, doing... well, you know. Something heroic, I suppose. Figured I’d stick around… enjoy the scenery."

That’s when you looked up and understood what he meant. He was stuck, quite literally. Those devil traps they put everywhere finally did something good.

You half-expected him to bring up that 'favor' he was talking about or maybe even just demand to get out of there, but he did neither. Instead, he looked at the ground and sighed.

At the moment, the King of Hell looked just like a caged puppy, sad and alone. If he wasn’t such a… demon, you might have even felt bad for him.

But, you left him in there, strolling along to the kitchen to find some kind of light. You were not giving up your two hours of reading due to power loss.

As you shuffled through the cabinets, looking for any form of match or lighter, the lights flickered back on.

So that’s where the Winchesters were.

You shrugged and turned back to your room but stopped at the entrance to the library. Crowley was still there, but this time, his face was twisted. He was clearly pissed.

"Why did you do it?" The burning question you wanted answered for months finally came out. Crowley stopped his little fit and turned towards you, a confused expression on his face.

He looked like he had no idea what you were talking about.

"I do a lot of things, Chipmunk. You'll have to be more specific."

You walked towards him, resting down the candles and book on a nearby table. You didn’t know why, but the need to confront him was growing.

"Save me all those months ago."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

You were getting closer, now only a few feet from him. Crowley, however, didn’t back away. Instead, he watched as you moved, his expression unchanging.

"That angel could’ve killed me, yet you came out of nowhere and stabbed him. I know you don't do anything out of kindness, so why did you do it? What do I offer that no one else does?"

Crowley stayed silent for a while, not giving any indication of answering your questions.

You thought it was just a lost cause until his expression changed. It was subtle, but you caught it. The corner of his mouth turned down, and his eyes widened, then narrowed.

He almost looked ashamed.

"It's just like I said. Self-interest." He spat out, his voice sounding like venom. You almost took a step back. It still sounded like the same old Crowley, but his tone was different.

You decided to call his bluff.

"I don't believe you."

Crowley raised an eyebrow, a smirk coming across his face. He was amused by the sudden attitude, but it didn’t last long.

"And what makes you say that?"

"I saw the way you looked at me after you saved me. Hesitancy, almost. Like you were unsure. As if..."

The King of Hell stared at you, waiting for the last part of your statement. He was eager but not for the answer. No, he knew what you were going to say.

He was just waiting to hear it come out of your mouth.

"You care."

Those words hung in the air, both of you processing it. Crowley continued to stare at you, the smirk disappearing, leaving his face neutral. He had a blank expression.

A silence grew, the atmosphere turning awkward. It wasn't until the demon let out a loud sigh and looked to the side that it was broken.

"You’re really pulling on the heartstrings, Chipmunk,” he muttered, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. "If I had one, I'd say it was aching."

"Do you?"

You knew what you were implying. Crowley was the King of Hell, the ruler of the damned. He was the furthest thing from human, yet he could walk among them and, sometimes, be mistaken for one.

Was it possible for him to be human or even have emotions?

Crowley looked at you and frowned, clearly not liking the topic. But he didn't deny it. It was a strange sight—the King of Hell, frowning and silent.

It was almost adorable.

"I'm not asking for anything. I just… want an honest answer."

"Well, I am a demon, love,” He stated, his tone changing to a more playful one. “Honesty isn’t quite in the job description."

"Crowley."

You were starting to get impatient, and it showed. Your voice was firm, and your posture was tense. You wanted an answer, and you were determined to get it.

The demon in question let out another sigh and looked at the ceiling as if praying for a quick escape.

"You're a pain, you know that? It's exhausting." He grumbled, rolling his eyes. "But, I suppose, since you asked nicely..."

The man looked at you, his lips pursed. He was still hesitating, which only made you more curious.

"Yes, I care. About you. Happy?"

You blinked a few times, processing the information. Did the King of Hell, the person known for not giving a shit, just admit he cares?

"I-" You started, not knowing what to say. It was a surprise but not an unwelcome one. Crowley wasn't exactly a bad guy, well, a demon.

"Do you actually mean that?"

"Now that…" Crowley started, his voice low and deep. He leaned towards you, making you back up, but the wall soon prevented you from going any further.

He was inches away, his breath hitting your face. You could see his eyes staring into yours—a pretty brown, like a mocha latte.

"…Is the kind of question that will get you in trouble, love."

You weren’t sure what he was planning, but you didn't care. The way his eyes were looking at you, the smirk on his face, the closeness...

He was probably expecting you to back away, but he was wrong. You were an avid reader, obsessive even. This scene wasn't new, nor was it shocking.

The only shocking part was the fact that you were the one in it. And, well, the fact that you didn’t mind it.

"Unlike you,” you whispered, a small smirk on your face. "I don’t care."

Your response made him pause for a moment, squinting his eyes and giving you a confused look. It only lasted a few seconds, though. Soon, he understood, and a chuckle escaped his lips.

"Touché"

You truly believed you were about to lose your chance with the man upstairs, but loud footsteps interrupted you.

"Crowley, you slimy son of a bitch! If you’re not here, we are going to-"

Dean stopped talking as he rounded the corner, seeing you and Crowley close. His expression was shocked, almost comical.

"The hell is going on here?"

You and Crowley both turned to look at Dean, a look of annoyance on the King of Hell's face. Sam came around the corner as well, sharing the same look of confusion.

Crowley gave you one last glance, a bit of disappointment in his eyes, before taking a step back. His attention moved on to the two hunters, his usual smile returning.

And despite the annoyance in the air and the confusion, the only thing that came across your mind was another question that you were sure would take control of your sleep schedule once again.

"Hello, boys," He purred, his arms moving to his side. He was back to his old self, not showing a single sign of what happened moments ago.

Had the beauty thawed the beast?

[dowagerqueenofhell]

10. Doubts

10. Doubts

The hotel room was quiet except for the faint hum of traffic outside. Lane stood near the window, arms crossed, staring at the city lights. The hunt had gone smoothly, the Winchesters were satisfied, and for once, everything felt… steady.

Then Crowley appeared.

Not with his usual smug entrance. No dramatic flourish, no sarcastic greeting.

Just there, in the shadows, watching her.

Lane turned, raising an eyebrow. "Okay. Creepy, even for you."

Crowley didn’t smirk. Didn’t roll his eyes.

Instead, he stepped closer, slow and deliberate. "How long, Lane?"

Her brows furrowed. "What?"

His gaze was sharp, cutting through her. "How long have you been waiting to turn on me?"

Lane straightened, caught off guard. "The hell are you talking about?"

Crowley chuckled—but it wasn’t amused. It was cold. "Oh, darling, don’t play stupid. You’ve been working your way in, haven’t you? Playing the part, pretending to hate me, keeping me just close enough—" He tilted his head. "Waiting for the perfect moment to gut me."

Lane’s stomach twisted.

Because that? That wasn’t Crowley messing with her. That was real.

She scoffed, shaking her head. "You’re insane."

Crowley’s smirk twitched, something dark beneath it. "No, love. I’m not."

He stepped forward, closing the distance.

Lane held her ground.

"I see it now," he murmured, voice edged with something dangerous. "The way you watch me. The way you hesitate, like you’re debating when to twist the knife. You think I haven’t noticed?"

Lane clenched her jaw. "Noticed what? That I still hate you? Newsflash, Crowley, that was never a secret."

His fingers flexed at his sides, but his expression didn’t waver.

"You think I don’t see it?" His voice dropped lower, just above a whisper. "You. Standing over my body. Blood on your hands. Saying you never had a choice."

A chill ran down Lane’s spine.

"I see you betray me, Lane. Over and over again."

Realization hit her like a punch to the ribs.

This wasn’t just paranoia.

This was planted.

And if Crowley was seeing her as a traitor, that meant someone wanted him to believe it.

Her mind raced. Demons who wanted her dead, or at least gone. The ones who resented her place at Crowley’s side, who didn’t want to waste time watching over a human while their king indulged himself.

"Crowley—"

"You can drop the act, love." He leaned in, voice laced with venom. "I know a liar when I see one."

For the first time, Lane didn’t have a comeback.

Because Crowley?

He believed it.

And that?

That hurt more than it should have.

¤¤¤¤¤

The motel lounge was quiet, the low hum of a radio crackling from an old speaker. Lane sat in the corner, fingers tapping against her whiskey glass, her mind still buzzing from Crowley’s accusations. The bastard had looked at her like she was his enemy.

She let out a slow breath. Forget him. Forget all of it.

"Drinking alone? That’s never a good sign, dearie."

Lane glanced up.

A woman—elegant, poised, with auburn hair and eyes too sharp to be casual—slid into the seat across from her.

"Not looking for company," Lane muttered.

The woman just smiled, eyes glittering with amusement. "Oh, but I do so hate to see a lady brooding. Especially when there are much better ways to spend the night."

Lane huffed. "That a sales pitch?"

The woman chuckled, stirring her drink. "Let’s just say I’m a woman who knows things. And I recognize the look of someone carrying… complications."

Something in her tone made Lane pause.

"And you’re an expert on my problems, are you?"

"Oh, love, I don’t have to be." The woman leaned in slightly, resting her chin on her hand. "Men like him—they never really trust, do they? But if he’s doubting you… well, it’s usually for a reason."

Lane went still.

"Excuse me?"

The woman swirled her drink, the ice clinking gently. "It’s funny, isn’t it? The way power makes men so paranoid. One day, they’re offering you the world, the next? They’re convinced you’re going to stab them in the back."

Lane’s pulse ticked in her jaw.

"You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about."

The woman just smiled knowingly, standing as smoothly as she had arrived.

"Maybe, maybe not." She set a few bills on the table. "But be careful, dear. If he starts to see you as a threat, well… it rarely ends well for the girl."

Lane narrowed her eyes. "Who the hell are you?"

The woman’s smirk deepened, but she simply turned, walking away, heels clicking softly against the floor.

And just like that, she was gone.

Lane sat there, staring after her, something heavy settling in her gut.

Because she had felt something off about that woman.

And worse?

Everything she’d said was true.

¤¤¤¤¤

The King of Hell didn’t panic. He didn’t second-guess.

But as Crowley tore through his chambers, shoving books off shelves, ripping apart drawers, he knew something was wrong.

The paranoia hadn’t stopped. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Lane.

Betraying him.

He needed proof—one way or the other.

And then, at the bottom of his liquor cabinet, tucked neatly between the bottles—

A hex bag.

The moment his fingers closed around it, the magic pulsed—cold, malicious. The paranoia spiked for a fraction of a second before fading.

Crowley stilled.

Then, realization slammed into him like a freight train.

Lane had never betrayed him.

She never even had the chance.

For a long moment, he simply stood there, gripping the cursed object, pulse hammering.

Then he vanished.

Same Motel, Different Night

Lane sat on the motel bed, flipping a knife between her fingers. She hadn’t told the boys about Crowley’s accusations—she didn’t need another lecture about getting “too deep.”

She didn’t need anything, really.

Except maybe a damn break.

Then the air shifted.

She barely had time to tense before—

"You."

Crowley stood at the foot of the bed, eyes dark, jaw tight.

Lane blinked. "Uh. Yeah? Me?"

He tossed something at her. Instinct kicked in, and she caught it midair—

A hex bag.

She frowned, rolling it between her fingers. "What the hell is this?"

Crowley’s gaze was unreadable. "The reason I saw you slit my throat every night for the past week."

Lane’s breath hitched.

So that’s what had been happening.

"You were cursed."

"Apparently." Crowley’s voice was clipped. "But it doesn’t change the fact that I let it work."

Lane stared at him, then scoffed. "Oh, what, are you actually apologizing?"

Crowley hesitated.

Then—he rolled his shoulders, straightened his cuffs. "I was wrong."

Lane almost laughed. "Wow. That almost sounded genuine."

"Let’s not push it, darling."

Lane flipped the hex bag once before tossing it back to him. "So, what now? You admit you doubted me for no reason, and we go back to normal?"

Crowley’s lips curled slightly, but there was something off in his expression—like he hated that he had to answer that question.

"I suppose we’ll see, won’t we?"

And then, with a snap of his fingers, he was gone.

Lane exhaled, flopping back against the mattress, staring at the ceiling.

Something had changed.

And she wasn’t sure either of them knew what to do about it.

¤¤¤¤¤

Crowley materialized in Rowena’s parlor in a storm of fury, the hex bag clutched in his hand.

"You," he snarled, slamming it onto the table. "You dared to hex me?"

Rowena didn’t flinch. She merely glanced up from her cup of tea, lips curling in amusement.

"Oh, Fergus," she sighed, setting the cup down with a delicate clink. "Took you long enough."

Crowley’s fingers twitched. He wanted to strike her down, to burn the smugness from her face. But Rowena only tilted her head, watching him like he was a child throwing a tantrum.

"Oh, go on, then," she mused, voice almost bored. "Smite your dear mummy. I would be terribly disappointed, but I suppose it’s in your nature."

Crowley sneered. "You think I won’t?"

"Oh, I know you will," Rowena said, eyes darkening with wicked delight. "Which is why I took precautions."

Crowley stilled. "What did you do?"

Rowena’s smirk widened.

"Tell me, son—have you checked on your little hunter lately?"

The air in the room dropped.

Crowley’s stomach twisted, but his expression remained cold. "What. Did. You. Do?"

Rowena hummed, examining her nails. "Oh, nothing terribly inventive. Just a little something slipped into her purse during our chat. Really, she didn’t even notice."

Crowley vanished before she could finish the sentence.

¤¤¤¤¤

Lane sat on the edge of her bed, flipping through an old lore book, trying—and failing—not to think about Crowley’s visit the night before.

She hated that the bastard got under her skin.

Then—

A pressure wrapped around her chest.

Lane gasped, dropping the book.

She couldn’t breathe.

Her vision blurred, her fingers clawing at her throat, her body collapsing onto the floor as an invisible force crushed her lungs.

Then—just as suddenly—

A blast of energy shook the room.

Crowley appeared, wild-eyed, moving with zero hesitation. His gaze darted around once before he ripped her purse open, shoving his hand inside.

A second later, he yanked out a hex bag.

Lane was barely conscious, her vision fading—but she saw him.

Saw the way his hand burst into flame, burning the cursed object to ash.

Felt the instant release of pressure in her chest.

She gasped for air, choking, hands clutching the carpet.

And Crowley—

He was right there, kneeling beside her, his hand still smoking from the fire.

His voice, low, rough with something she didn’t recognize—

"Breathe, Poppet."

Lane sucked in a shaky breath, her entire body trembling.

Crowley didn’t move. Didn’t mock. Didn’t sneer.

He just watched her, jaw clenched, something unreadable in his eyes.

And Lane, for the first time, realized—

He wasn’t just angry.

He had been afraid.

[aziraphales-library]

hello 👉🏻👈🏻 look i ship aziracrow as much as the next person but… the crowley obsession in me needs to know… do you know any good self insert/readerXcrowley fics?

We have a #reader insert tag and specifically this post with Crowley/Reader fics. Hopefully you'll enjoy these as well...

Stranger by winterjames (G)

While having a few drinks at a bar, you meet a very intriguing stranger.

Isolation and Messes by dont_psychoanalyze_me (NR)

When you isolate yourself without warning, Crowley and Aziraphale aren't taking it. Crowley, with prompt from Aziraphale, stops by to check up on you. To say your frustrated is the least, but the demon has his ways as always.

Crowley's Hissy Fit by eiressofinspiration (T)

You and Crowley have been dating for a few months now and it’s his first time visiting your flat. He’s surprised to find he shares a few qualities with your pet…

Gentle Sin by ShortInsomniac98 (E)

Mesopotamia!Crowley x Fem!Reader // Just a self-indulgent little reader-insert fic because I really liked Mesopotamia Crowley.

we have not touched the stars (nor are we forgiven) by rosesinmars (G)

Crowley is sad about the fate of his beloved Bentley, and you are quite done of watching your demon friend all gloomy, so you decide it's time for you to do something about it, and as you do so, some feelings you have been trying to hide for a while now becomes quite obvious at Crowley's eyes.

Understanding Who You Are by JustAnotherNarrator (T)

He wanted to talk. At least, that’s what he told you once the two of you had stopped glowering at one another. You’re still not quite certain why you thought bringing him back to your apartment was a good idea though. The trail of reasoning had been something along the lines of whatever he might want to talk about might not be fit for human ears, but it doesn’t make this moment any less awkward, because as of now, neither of you is, in fact, talking.

- Mod D

[lunarsaturn88]

All that Ends Well- Crowley (Good Omens)

Pairing: Crowley X Reader

Imagine dozing off next to Crowley after a long day.

Warnings: None

@thefandomimagine

Words: 373

You sat next to Crowley on the bench that normally he and Aziraphale sat at when they were finished with whatever work they had done in a day. This time it was you next to Crowley with no Aziraphale this time who was currently busy in his bookshop doing who knows what there to keep busy. 

Crowley’s yellow eyes scanned the people who walked around them enjoying their day. “You did fairly well today.” He mused with a small smile quirking on his lips. He never was one to willingly and openly admit when someone did a good job. 

You let out a soft hum knowing that was a good thing that Crowley was complimenting you. But you were too exhausted to give your answer to him. You had taken a lot out of yourself working on helping him and Aziraphale before another catastrophe happened in the little world that they called their home. 

“I’ll keep in mind that next time you should help us when things go sour.” 

You lifted your head for a moment as your eyes fluttered slightly fighting against the sleep that was trying to consume you. But you weren’t having all that much good luck trying to remain awake. “I doubt that you will always need my help.” You murmured as you looked at him through your clouded eyes. 

“Oh, I’m sure that Ziraphale will agree on the helping bit. You’re bloody brilliant when it comes to things.” 

You leaned back softly closing your eyes as you listened to him talk. His drawl was sending you off to sleep quicker than what you expected to. Your eyes growing more heavy as your battle with sleep was over. Your head slid to the side landing softly on Crowley’s shoulder causing the demon of an angel stop talking. 

He looked down at you though his dark lenses and let out a breath. “Should’ve known… you worked yourself too hard, Y/N. Rest dear. Tomorrow is always another day to talk about your good deed of the day.” He mused softly as he slowly looked away from you as you slept soundly with your head on his shoulder. He’d never admit it outloud but everything ended well when you helped out. 

[un-fwuit-un-fwog]

The Rain is Especially Loud Tonight

Synopsis: The Prefect gets hurt due to Crowley's negligence.

TW: Injury, Stitches, Medical Stuff, Prefect gets caught under a collapsed Ramshackle

Part 1 (here), Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7 (coming soon), . . .

Tick Tick Tick Tick

The room would be completely silent were it not for the ticking of the clock on the wall.

The environment was more comfortable than your usual medical setting, but it still felt cold in a way.

The door creaked open and in stepped professor Crewel. "Hey, Pup." His voice lacked its usual stern tone one would hear in the classroom; instead, his voice was gentle and almost hoarse.

The hoarseness was no doubt a result of him screaming at the headmage in a roar you shiver even recalling. He had spent hours tearing into the man for his gross negligence and irresponsibility.

"Pup?" His voice became more worried when you failed to answer.

"Sorry." A meek, rasped voice leaves you throat. Your throat burns with dryness despite the 6 glasses of water you already drank, and it feels like every syllable echoes through your head and causes an intense, throbbing pain. You don't recognize the voice that claws its way out of your throat as your own.

You hear the soft scrape of a chair on the floor next to your bed. "No. Don't apologize, Pup." Rocking your gaze slowly over to him its clear to you, with the way his jaw clenches and unclenches while his eyes search the blanket covering you, that he wants to say something, but isn't sure what.

You slowly rock your head to look forward again. "Everyone's been in such a panic. . .and it's my fault, I-"

The man cuts you off as you choke on your words: "Pup. This is not your fault."

"But-" Your throat feels like its been given a massage with a thousand razor blades. The coughing your attempts to speak cause only make the pain worse.

Crewel quickly grabs another glass of water and holds it up to your lips for you to drink. "But nothing, Pup- Keep those arms down or you'll re-open the wounds. That old building was bound to collapse at some point. We all knew it. If the fault is on anyone it's on us staff. Crowley made you stay there, and we didn't stop him." The glass cup clinks slightly too harshly onto the nightstand as he sets it down.

Silence falls between the two of you.

Tick Tick Tick Tick

The ticking of the clock numbs your thoughts. You force your mind to stop focusing on the pain radiating from every inch of your body and instead listen to the steady ticking of the clock. The only other sound that can be herd is the occasional hurried footsteps outside the door as the other staff do their best to take care of the situation.

Your injuries have already been treated by a specialty team sent from STYX the moment the news got to them. They were the only ones aside from Grim, Leona, and the staff that had seen your mangled form before you were wrapped up like a mummy. You didn't have to ask how bad it was. Seeing Crowley throw up at the sight of you was enough to tell you it was bad.

The STYX team had spent nearly a whole 24 hours stitching you back together like some ragdoll and rearranging the many pieces of you that had been ripped and jostled out of place. If not for them. . .well, you don't want to think about it. If you looked like a mummy on the outside, you were sure that under the bandages you looked like Frankenstein's monster. There really wasn't a single bit of you that got out of that death trap unscathed.

You were kept in the school infirmary instead of being carted off to some high-tech STYX facility only because they needed to operate on you as soon as possible and didn't want to move you too much after the initial procedures. They made do by shipping a ton (literally speaking, more like 3 tons) of medical equipment to the school, most of which was now littered around the infirmary in a rushed yet professional way.

Despite your closeness to your friends, the only people who had come to see you were the staff. It's not that none of your friends wanted to see you, but that they weren't allowed to. The doctor's worried having them in so soon, when they were still full of hysteria from the news, wouldn't be the best idea. They weren't able to text you either as your phone had been crushed in the collapse.

"How's Grim?"

Professor Crewel hums: "Physically, he's pretty unscathed. He just has a few scrapes and bruises. Mentally, he's a bit traumatized."

You supposed that made sense. You didn't remember much, but what you did remember was Grim's voice. He had been returning to the dorm from after school detention when he found the building in shambles on the ground. He called out to you but your lungs were filled with debris and your torso was being crushed by layers of rubble. The dorm ghosts met Grim at the edge of the junk pile that used to be a dorm and confirmed that you were inside and that you needed help. The ghosts talked to you as you laid there, not being able to physically move anything off you themselves. They kept you awake and assured you that Grim was getting help.

Not long later you heard shouting. Two of the ghosts stayed with you while the third went out to meet the staff and fill them in. You were told after the fact that that's about the time they called up Leona to use his unique magic so they could get you out as soon as possible (that was the first time many saw the lion run).

You were blanking in and out of consciousness when they found you, but you remember them finding you. The feeling of the weight of the rubble lessening as it was methodically turned to sand and removed (in order to not end up crushing you with sand instead), the small grains dripping on your face, and eventually, the full force of the pouring rain battering your face as the last of the rubble was removed from above you. You remember Leona's manic eyes turning horrified, Crowley puking, and worst of all, Grim's face.

"STYX sent over a few trauma counselors. There are ones assigned specifically to Leona and Grim as well since they saw some of the worst of it." Crewel finally broke the silence again.

"And you? You and. . .the other teachers were there too. . .and Sam."

"Calm down, Pup. We've all had evaluations done to assess how we're handling it. We'll be fine.

"What about. . ." Your voice trails off, but from the look in your eyes, Crewel can tell what you were about to ask.

"What about the headmage?"

You nod, wincing slightly when the motion disturbs an injury on your neck.

"He's under investigation." Crewel responds after a brief pause. He knew that you surely couldn't be all that fond of the crow, but as you saw it, he was probably also your only ticket home. Crewel looked up to gauge your response, but your face remained neutral.

"And you, Pup? I obviously know you aren't doing particularly well physically right now, but what about mentally?"

"Hm?"

Crewel hesitated, not wanting to dig around in a mental wound and make it worse, "You were. . .under there for a while. I'm sure it must've been. . .scary."

You think for a moment before responding: "Was I really under there that long? It didn't feel like it. . .I think I passed out a few times." Your mumbled words put Crewel at ease in a way. He's not happy that you had been passing out, but he was at least glad that you weren't stuck under there fully conscious and feeling every second tick by as if it were an hour.

"Hmm. I see." Crewel nods. "I ought to let you rest now. A counselor will stop by tomorrow to talk to you about what happened." He stands up as he says this, his knuckles still white from how tightly he'd been gripping the fabric of his pants. "Rest well, Pup."

You simply nod, this time more carefully as to not disturb your wounds, and watch him walk out. When the door closes you swear you hear a choked sob.

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[cuntiel]

[ml080504]

somebody: what do you like about men twice your age?

me: where do i start?

[twisted-wonderland-but-gayer]

Language Barriers

Based off the idea that Yuu doesn't speak the same language or have the same culture norms in their world!! Got inspired for once

Content Info: GN!, 4.6K words-ish, Fluff/Comedy, Platonic except in Kalim's, Aztec refs in Leonas, NSFW jokes in Heartslabyul, Staff being parents, Trey bullying

Characters: Mozus Trein, Divus Crewel, Dire Crowley, Ashton Vargas, Sam, Riddle Rosehearts, Trey Clover, Cater Diamond, Ace Trappola, Deuce Spade, Grim, Leona Kingscholar, Kalim al-Asim, Jamil Viper, Vil Schoenheit

***

***

Since your arrival in Twisted Wonderland, you have begun to grasp the language and culture of this world. For the most part, at least.

You remember as clear as day when you first arrived, the pure confusion of the Headmage and those around you. Words from your lips were pure gibberish to them. They stared at you like you were an anomaly— and they were right. You are one.

‘Glitchy’ is the term they have used to describe your voice. “It is as though the sound around you warps everytime you speak.” The Headmage— Crowley— said.

The man had given you a necklace alongside an old dorm he housed you in. It was a simple looking necklace. A small mirror charm dangles in the center of it. Subtle enough to not draw attention to it.

It wasn't just a necklace however. It was a translator, a universal one.

The ‘glitches’ from your mouth had stopped and became the strange sounds the natives here spoke. Still, the necklace is just a buffer. Just because you can understand them doesn't mean you know what they're saying.

You still do not know the slang, the culture, the phrases, the grammar. Words still slipped your mind. You swear all you can hear is gibberish at times– and honestly you don’t doubt it occasionally is when students want to mess with you. You still had a lot to learn and there have been many miscommunications along the way. All part of the journey you suppose.

The staff here weren't coddling at all but they were accommodating. They made it clear that they favored no student more than the other. (At least that's what they claim.) But they also understood that holding you to the same standard would be unfair.

Mozus Trein

Professor Mozus Trein was a blessing when it came to learning about this world. His history classes made understanding this place easier. Trein would even give you extra context with his lessons to help you understand the everyday things and universal knowledge that you are unaware of.

His standards for your essays were different. He was no less strict on you but he was reasonable. He could tell that you truly understood the concept and put effort into your papers despite the language barrier and he is not going to punish you for learning.

You would get your paper back with a high grade and a page of corrections with explanations for each one. Why this comma here wrong. Why this was the wrong conjugation of that word. How this sentence could be improved.

“Excuse me, Professor?” You test the words as you speak them, accent slipping out. Trein looks to you from his desk. "Yes?”

“This word here is marked as wrong, but I remember you saying ‘I before E except after C.’” You tilt the paper to him and the older man adjusts himself on seat.

“Let me see here…” Trein paused to read the paper, expert eyes scanning for any potential mistakes. “Ah I see, that word there is an exception. ‘Sovereign’ doesn't follow that rule.” He closed his eyes as he explained and you nodded in understanding.

“I see, so I just have to memorize it. Are there any other words like that?” You didn't like how Trein seemed to frown as he thought about it. He hadn't realized how many there were. “Yes there are. A lot more than I anticipated I’m afraid,” a sigh escapes his lips and he shakes his head.

“I will not hold this against your grade since you have been improving with each assignment. Little mistakes like this will be forgiven so long as they are not repeated. Allow me to adjust your grade accordingly.”

You tilted your head as your B+ went to an A-. A small smile decorates your features. Trein nods to you and hands you your paper back. “There you are then. On to you next class.” You turn to leave but are stopped by when he speaks again.

“You should be proud of yourself, Yuu. You are the hardest working student I've have ever had the pleasure of teaching.” You perked up and your smile grew as you were onto your next class.

Divus Crewel

Professor Divus Crewel’s classes were difficult for completely different reasons. Math and numbers were the same for the most part aside from some minor symbol changes. Word problems were the bane of your existence however. Thankfully Divus can see that you understand the math. He'll often pass you or only take half a point off if you use the wrong equation or misunderstand the question and such.

He also gave you a small private lesson about alchemy as well. Teaching you the basic terms and proper protocols that most students would have learned early in their education. He'd show how to differentiate the effects an ingredient would have by the prefixes of their names or symbols on the vial.

But most importantly he would help you socially. What you should dress like for certain events. The correct way to speak so you could sound like a native. Social cues.

And he would refuse to admit it but you were his prized pup over the rest. He may or may not have slipped you a few perfumes or clothing under the guise of “Crowley not providing enough” or “Taking stress off of you to do better in class.” You knew better though.

After all, how could he play off giving a coat similar to his? It was less flashy and more suited to your tastes. It wasn't obvious to anyone else that you matched him unless they really observed. Perfect to wear in his class.

He's always looking out for you. Making sure you are safe and secure. And should you get injured from another adventure, he is there with a potion in hand.

Dire Crowley

Crowley was the one that gave you the necklace and a place to stay. Though eccentric and a bit well… lazy, you couldn’t deny that this was a good display of his generosity. Even if he does make you work for it.

Crowley was a strange one. He'd gift you some magical object one day and then forget you exist the next. He’d help you with your paperwork for accommodations and then forget to approve of them.

One time he dropped off a stack of paperwork on you to do for him but still left you a huge comprehensive guide that teaches you how to do each one. On top of that there was even a translation card meant to help you. If he put this much effort into these papers he'd be done by now. You assume he made this so he can drop more on you in the future. You swear he mentioned he's doing this to you to ‘prepare you for when you become the new headmage— er headmaster.’ Yeah right.

He'd give you dangerous tasks then become overprotective if any boy dare get too close to you. He'd help with anything but only if you stroke his ego. Yet despite it all he was still, as much as you hated to admit it, generous.

Despite everything, he has taken you in instead of abandoning you in this world. You swear sometimes he acts like a dad to you… When its convenient.

He's so annoying but you can’t find it in your heart to truly hate him. He may get you in trouble, but the moment it becomes too dangerous he steps in without hesitation to protect you and gives you a huge lecture after.

You hope you learn enough of the language to properly scold him.

Ashton Vargas

“Is this really necessary?” You ask the coach in front who re-wraps your hands tightly. “Absolutely it is!” The Coach's booming voice resonates in you as he pats you on your back rather roughly. “Give me another punch.”

You swallow and raise your hands again. You hesitate. “Come on kid you aren't gonna leave a dent in me!” You swallow and swing at his stomach. Vargas was right, he doesn't even flinch as your arm practically vibrates.

“That was a good form! I almost felt it.” A great guffaw rumbles in his chest. “Again!” Another punch, he looks down approvingly.

“Not bad, not bad at all. I sense a lot of potential in you, kid. That's enough for today.” You breathe a sigh of relief as you wipe your brow and unwrap your hands.

“Seems my training regiment is working, you're getting stronger by the day. Still— this on its own isn't enough. You need protein, kid! Lots of it. And you know what a good source of protein is?”

You stare at him for a moment. “Those uh…” the word slips your mind. “Chicken… capsules…?”

“Bingo! But they're called Eggs here Yuu.” Ashton puts a hand on his hip and makes a fist. “You should start with a dozen eggs per day and increase from there. I know that headmage can't be relied on to pay you in time, so I personally will deliver some bulking meals myself!”

“... Why are you doing this for me?” Your voice comes out a bit quiet as you speak. Ashton looks at you for a minute. “Why? Because you’re my student and I want to see you succeed. You got some serious strength hidden in you, and it would br a shame to see it wasted. Besides…”

As he speaks he starts taking down those punchy things, sandbags, you think. “The students here are quite rowdy. I want you to be able to defend yourself, especially since you don't have magic. You have to rely on brawn, Yuu! And I will be the one to awaken it.”

Vargas strikes a pose for a moment before relaxing. “Before you go I need to teach you some vocabulary.”

“Vocabulary…?”

“About your muscles of course!” The coach sat you down for a moment as he went into kinesiology. Micros and macros. Bulking. He broke it all down for you while flexing his muscles to emphasize his points.

“Now off you go Yuu, meet me here same time tomorrow, got it?”

Sam

Sam is a cool dude. You interact with him a lot. He never had an issue when you were first learning to speak. In fact he'd help you find the products you described to him. Of course he'd try and convince you to buy the more premium products but that's just business.

He'd even offer you a gig or two. His shelves don't stock themselves and his shadow friends wouldn't mind some extra help. Just know they can be a bit mischievous. While you were working you'd even get a small employee discount.

Even though your language has gotten better, there is still the occasional mix up.

“Ah, prefect! What can I do for you?” Sam queried while leaning on the counter top, delighted to see one of his favorite customers. “I am looking for… um…” You froze. What was that word again??

“The… white liquid?” You watched as Sam racked his brain for what you meant. “An invisibility potion?”

“No no! It's like… a juice?”

“Ah! I got it! Coconut milk!” The man snapped his fingers and winked. He frowned a bit when you shook your head.

“Wait here.” The shadow man watched as you ventured into the small smack aisle in front of him. Soon you took a bag of beef jerky and pointed to the small symbol on it. “What is this animal called again?”

“That's a cow.”

“Yes! I need the juice from it! The cow juice! What is its name? I forgot.” you perked up and beamed at him, hoping he understood. It all clicked for Sam, and he let out a hearty laugh at the realization.

“Do you mean milk, perchance?”

“Yes! I knew it had that sound! I need milk!” Sam chuckled again and waves his hand, sending a small shadow to retrieve some. “By the way would you be down to do some work tonight?”

“Tonight? Yeah, I can always use some extra cash.” The prefect was always so easy going. Guess they had to be in a place like this.

“Good. I'll apply your discount right now then!”

Heartslabyul

Your favorite Heartslabyul members have invited you to join them. Another Unbirthday party was to be hosted and the stars aligned today for the whole deck to help with the baking. It felt nice to be with them. They were like a family in a way, being with them felt like home. Alongside baking, there was some cooking being done too.

“Geez you really do like your eggs, huh?” Cater asked the spade who stirred his chopsticks with precision. He is determined to make the perfect tornado omelet.

“Oh you have no idea.” Ace tsked. “Whenever we go out to a restaurant it's the only thing he orders.”

“Not true!” Deuce's interjection wasn't as strong as it usually is, much to focused on his creation. “Yeah only if they dont offer any.” Ace retorts.

“Grim, it is unsanitary to touch the batter,” Riddle breaks up the impending argument to chide the direbeast ‘helping’ him stir, “Trey how many egg yolks do I add?”

“Three. You sure got it Riddle?” Riddle pouts a bit. He knows he got a shell in the batter last time but he's trying! “I'll get it right this time, you can count on it.”

“Ooh, give the egg whites to Deuce if you aren't using them!” Deuce mutters a thank you to Cater as he finishes up his omelet. “Does anyone else want one?”

No’s resound across the kitchen aside from you and Grim which makes Deuce smile. “Alright, what kind do you want Yuu? I'm still unsure on what kind you prefer.” Deuce looks a little embarrassed at not knowing despite how long you've been friends.

Before anyone could tease Deuce, Trey asks the worst question he possibly could without knowing. “Actually how do you like your eggs in the morning, Yuu? I rarely see you eat breakfast in the cafeteria.”

You pause for a moment, the pan you were greasing slipping slightly. Then you chuckled. “That's very bold of you Trey, I never expected you of all people to say that… But judging by everyone else's reaction, I assume it doesn't mean anything here?”

“Oh? Does it mean something different where you from?” Riddle asks, looking over at you. “It does actually.” Cater looks up from his phone he was reading the recipe from, noticing your amused expression. “What else could possibly it mean though?” You hold in a laugh. Perhaps this wasn't the best time to bring it up but you can't help it.

“Is that so? I sure hope I didn't say anything offensive. What does it mean?” Poor Trey; he chuckles as he decorates one of the finished cakes not knowing the storm that's brewing.

“You essentially just propositioned me in front of everyone.” The whole kitchen is silent as they stare at you. Trey looks flustered and confused out of his mind as an abundance of frosting squirts out of the bag. “I… pardon?”

Ace speaks first “Huh?! How does that make sense?”

“Proposition? What does that mean?”

“Don't worry about it Grim.” says the diamond. “Still that seems far fetched, it's rude of you to mess with Trey like that you know!”

“I'm not lying! It's actually what it means!” Trey is adjusting his glasses now, embarrassment growing. Riddle looks horrified, trying to find his words. He's trying to rack his brain for a response before deciding to ask about it. His voice comes out a little hesitant and unsure. “Are eggs part of some sort of courtship in your world…?”

“Um… sort of..?” At your words Deuce pales. Ace takes this opportunity to be a little shit per usual. “Wow! Seems like you have a chance then, Deucy!”

“Oh shut it Ace! Wait, have I been propositioning you this whole time?!” His face is red and he's hiding in his hands. He has offered so many egg dishes over the years. Oh God he must have made you so uncomfortable— this isn't what an honor student would do!

“I still don't know what that means…” Grim grumbles.

“No no! Offering eggs is fine, it's just that particular phrase has very different connotations in my world.”

Ace is snickering at the whole situation, but especially at Deuce’s panic. He's also just as confused, however. Trey finally has the courage to speak. “Um, how exactly does that mean…” He trails off, defeated. “I'm sorry Yuu, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable…”

“You didn't. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to tease you too much…”

“Okay, but how exactly does that mean that?”

“Yeah I'm with Cater on this one…” Ace adds.

“Enlighten me.” Riddle puts his hands on his hips, morbid curiosity getting the better of him.

“So… When someone asks that they essentially mean to say they're gonna invite you to spend the night with them and cook you breakfast in the morning.” Trey looks even more embarrassed but so does Riddle.

“So it's a sleepover? That's it?” Grim asks just to be waived off by Cater again who vibrating with laughter.

“That's a pretty convoluted way of asking…” Deuce looks to the side, also a little flustered. “Yeah it makes no sense for me either, and I'm from that world, but that is what it means…”

“Wow so Trey really is bold!” Cater snickers as Ace joins in with a “I never knew you had it in you.”

“Enough with this vulgar talk!” Riddle commands, clearly demanding the conversation to be over.

“I am never gonna live this down aren't I?”

Leona Kingscholar

I am gonna nerd a lil abt aztec mythology rn and I'm not apologizing

Herbivore is what he called you. It was meant to be an insult but you never took offense. There is no other creature that fights harder than prey that is fighting for their life or backed into a corner. If anything it was a compliment. You've seen how hard they can fight.

Yet today Leona took the title further. “You are honestly like a little rabbit. All this confidence and attitude, yet harmless.” You raised a brow at him. “Thank you.”

Leona's eyes shift ever so slightly. “You're taking it as a compliment?” You tilt your head. “I assume rabbit in this world is synonymous with fragility here…? Odd. They're a symbol of warriors back in my world.”

“Is that so?” Leona speaks boredly, but he doesn't excuse himself or tell you to shut up. “Yeah, rabbits are these mighty warriors that are completely invincible. Children of one of the 5 sin gods too. Nothing can kill them. Centzon Tōtōchtin are no joke. Odd how they're considered weak here.”

You think for a moment. “But they are known to be constantly drunk all the time and play around, so I guess that could be an insult…” Leona just rubs his head. “Take it however you want…”

Kalim al-Asim

“Look at all the stars!” Kalim exclaims, pointing up at the sky. He lands his carpet along the sand dunes, eyes full of wonder. He then looks to you with bated breath, waiting for your reaction.

“It's beautiful…” You whisper, overlooking the patterns of stars decorating the night sky. It was straight out of a painting, vast and whimsical. Kalim was glowing at your happiness. “Aaah, I'm glad you like it! I was hoping you would!”

You lean back against the ground. Shooting stars dart across the sky along the twinkling lights in a beautiful display. Your eyes land on the moon, admiring how different it was from your own.

“The moon looks beautiful tonight, doesn't it?” You freeze for a moment. “Haha, careful saying that to people from my world Kalim, not that you'll be running into anyone else from there anytime soon…”

Kalim looks over to you, brows slightly furrowed. “Eh? What do you mean?” You look back up the moon again. “Saying ‘the moon looks beautiful tonight’ where I’m from means I love you.” There's a moment of silence as Kalim ponders.

“Well then the moon looks beautiful tonight! I love all of my friends!” Kalim grins at you, fist pumped to his chest.

“It's not like that, Kalim. It's for romantic feelings. Funny, since coming here I've had a lot of experiences that would be considered flirtatious in my word…” You laugh a bit before a small frown appears on your features but Kalim snaps you out if it.

“So what you're saying is… it's a love confession?” His eyes are glimmering, the moon reflecting on them beautifully.

“You got it.”

“Then the moon looks beautiful tonight.”

Jamil Viper

So in TWST the languages aren't called the same thing in our world but I couldn't figure out the language of the Scalding Sands so I made one up. Can be a psuedo-prequel to my other fic Missing Yuu. It can be read here!

“Your Arabic is so similar yet so different than my world's version” Jamil pauses his mumbling and hums in question. “Arabic?”

“It's a language where I'm from. It sounds very similar to yours. Like I swear it could be some sort of dialect of it.”

“Scaldic, you mean?” You nod looking over at him from where you lay in his bed. “Is that what it's called? It's a pretty language.” Jamil messes with the stereo in his room, taking out an old CD and browsing for another he wanted to show you. “Maybe once you get more comfortable in this language, I can teach you a bit.”

“That would be lovely, thanks Jamil” As the sounds of shuffling continue from his search and you absentmindedly mess with your necklace before sitting up. “Wait! I know!”

Jamil perks and turns to you, watching as you start to take off your necklace. “Here put this on, you've shown me so much music from your world, let me show you some from mine!”

You offer the necklace over, shaking it a little for encouragement. Jamil takes it gently and examines the necklace. He lifts up his hair and slips it on, feeling a warmth on his chest from where the mirror lay.

You speak, and Jamil braces against the weird feeling of the necklace warping your glitched gibberish from your throat into his native language. “Can you hear me?” The words echoed in his head a bit. He took a moment to fully process them as they reverberated in his head.

He almost replies in his native tongue, but the amulet compels him to speak another language. Your language.“Yes, I can.” He replies, slurring a bit as he feels his words echo and warp. Strange… he knows what he's saying but he can't understand it.

“You have an accent, well that makes sense…” You chuckle a bit as he sits beside you, taking a moment to adjust to the sensation. “I never thought about how the enchantments on these worked. I assumed that it would be instant. Is this what it's like for you?”

“Crowley said it would probably be different for me cause I'm not from this world. See why I ask you to repeat things all the time? … thanks for not getting too annoyed with that by the way.”

You tap away on your phone for a moment. “Here we go, I got some songs in Arabic for you, look.” Jamil watches you press play and takes in the music. It was ethereal, so different yet so similar to his worlds. Uncanny yet compelling. Then the lyrics start and he furrows his brows.

“It really is like Scaldic.” he replies, closing his eyes. “Its like if I focus hard enough I can hear it in my own language, but I cant.”

“See what I mean?” Jamil nods. “I think I'm picking up some words though, but there's no guarantee the meaning is the same.”

“Yeah it's how I feel all the time here… its frustrating at times. Oddly enough there are some words that stay the same, mostly food for example. Like mahalabia or horchata for example.”

“Huh, odd how that works…” the music coursing through his body invigorates him. He can imagine all the potential ways to move to this.

“Yeah. And it's the same dish too— well sort of. It tastes so similar yet so different. I miss my world's food, but I'm slowly forgetting the taste of it. Its just vauge memory.” Jamil peers over to the saddened expression on your face. He never even considered that part of being from another world.

“... How about we listen to your music while cooking, then? I'm sure we can make something that tastes like home.” Your face brightens. “That sounds nice.”

Vil Schoenheit

“Thank you for putting up with my accent, it must be annoying to deal with.” You sip on the tea he offered you, trying your best to abide by the manners in this world. Vil merely looked at you.

“It's not annoying at all. Your accent is fine just the way it is.” He almost seemed disappointed by the insinuation.

“Ah… Sorry I just saw that Epel’s usually not allowed to use his accent around you, so I assumed I shouldn't either.” Vil sighs.

“That's different. You have already proven yourself strong and beautiful enough to be who you are. Epel on the other hand needs to learn to accept himself for who he is first before he can truly be the person he wants to be. He must prove to me he can love himself as he is. If I hated accents, I wouldn't have let Rook speak in his."

“Ah I see… Thank you.” It wasn't everyday that you get praise from the Vil Schoenheit. “Your speech has improved, though I may point out there are some words you may need to work on. Your accent may make it sound like you are talking about something else entirely. Hmm…”

You hold your breath as he thinks. “I want you to grow into the best spudling you can be, so how about you take voice lessons from me?” Vil seems to smirk at your surprised expression. “From you..?”

Vil nods. “Yes. This way you can grow more confident in your speech and vocabulary. That voice of yours is beautiful, it just needs to be tuned.” You look at your tea then to him. “I accept.”

[tartppola]

deucey & yuu, earlier into their friendship, takes place after book 2, before book 3, early in the school year there were people who didn't take kindly to the prefect entering nrc

slightly related comic

[ninjaart-fan]

I'm sorry it took me sooo long! but here is part 5!

I know it's not much... so here's a bit of extra drama:

meanwill in Diasmnia Dorm...

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 6

[cursedcola]

I don’t think we talk enough about Yuus who actually have lives back in their world, and are genuinely freaking out about being stuck at NRC. Just imagine them lore bombing the cast because no one ever asks about their homelife. So it’s just random moments of yearning for home until evidently Crowley gets off his rocker and does his job.

————

*having tea at heartslabyul before everyone goes on break*

Yuu: “I miss my mom. This is holiday season back where I’m from…man, this sucks” *sulks and eats tart*

Deuce: You have parents?

Cater: You miss your family???

Riddle: Must be nice.

————

Yuu: *sigh*

Grim: ….

Yuu: *siiiiigh*

Grim: ……….

Yuu: *SIIIIIIIIGH*

Grim: MRAH ALRIGHT ALREADY. WHAT DO YA WANT?

Yuu: I miss my husband. I wonder what he’s doing right now. All I have of him here is my wedding band….I just want to see him.

*proceeds to admire a wedding band they had hidden under their uniform gloves*

Ace+Deuce: YOU’RE MARRIED???? HOW OLD ARE YOU???

Grim: Aye lets pawn that for dorm funds

————

*at monstro lounge. jade’a trying to shove mushrooms down floyd’s gullet. The latter is fighting for his life*

Yuu: Slug em in the nads Floyd! Lesson one in human anatomy! Make em’ sing!

Azul: *appalled* can you not encourage them??? Aren’t you supposed to mediate disagreements?

Yuu: nah. You don’t get between siblings. That’s their beef. GET EM JADE, MAKE EM EAT HIS WEIGHT!

Azul: I take it you have siblings? - urk. Thank the sea witch I am an only child.

Yuu: *cheers when jade claims victory - at the expense of a now broken table* Be grateful it’s just the two. I have three and we once made a game out of sledding on concrete. News flash - the er visit cost quadruple that table

Azul: *proceeds to make medical investment plans*

———

Yuu: *crying*

Leona: The hell’s wrong with them now? *eyes ruggie*

Ruggie: *puts hands up* I didn’ do anything! I just swiped one of their cookies! I swear!

Yuu: *crying harder* It’s an oatmeal creme pie dammit! Y’all don’t know little debbie and it shows!

Leona: ….do i want to know?

Ruggie: *hands back the half eaten creme pie. Lowkey freaking out because Leona looks ready to whack him upside with a spelldrive disc* Here! Y’see? There’s still some…c’mon prefect. Ya can stop crying now. I’ll get Trey to make ya another. Just take a breath.

Yuu: *sobs while eating. Doesn’t know whether to be upset because the creme pie is gone, or because trey’s tastes better than little debbie. So it’s still not the same* I hate you all.

[dowagerqueenofhell]

9. Sensitivities

9. Sensitivities

The bar was dimly lit, the low hum of conversation blending with the clink of glasses and the occasional crackle of an old jukebox in the corner. Lane sat at the counter, nursing a whiskey, half-listening to Dean and Sam at the pool table behind her.

She wasn’t exactly sulking—just thinking. Overthinking. Trying not to dwell on the fact that Crowley had never really lost sight of her, no matter how far she ran.

"Rough night?"

The voice was smooth, laced with amusement.

Lane glanced up as a man slid onto the stool beside her. Tall, well-dressed, dark hair just beginning to gray at the temples. Sharp eyes, full of mischief.

"You look like a woman who could use a distraction." He smiled, easy and practiced.

Lane arched a brow. "Oh? And you think you’re up for the job?"

The man smirked. "I like a challenge."

Lane huffed a laugh, turning back to her drink. She wasn’t in the mood for company, but something about the way he spoke… it was too smooth. Too familiar.

Then he ordered a drink.

"Macallan, neat. 25-year if you have it."

Lane’s fingers stilled against her glass.

It was the way he said it. Casually, like it was second nature.

Like it was a habit.

The bartender poured the drink, sliding it over, and the man lifted it with a perfectly smug grin.

Lane exhaled sharply, pressing her tongue to her teeth.

Oh, you asshole.

She turned in her seat, resting her elbow on the bar, and let her gaze really settle on him. The sharp suit. The lazy confidence. The way he smirked like he already knew he’d won.

"Really, Crowley?"

The man hummed, tilting his head. "Sorry, love, don’t think we’ve met."

Lane scoffed. "You couldn’t even show up as yourself?"

And then—

Something shifted.

The smirk changed—just enough. The weight in his gaze deepened. That was Crowley’s smirk now.

A slow, deliberate sip of whiskey. Then, a knowing, smug—

"Clever girl. Took you long enough, Poppet."

Lane exhaled sharply, shaking her head. "You are pathetic."

Crowley chuckled, slow and pleased. "Now, now, let’s not be cruel. I just wanted to see how long it would take you to figure me out."

Lane crossed her arms. "And?"

He sipped his drink. "Moderately impressive. Though I’ll admit, I thought I’d get at least a little further before you caught on."

Lane rolled her eyes. "Why are you even here?"

Crowley smirked. "You tell me, love. You’re the one who noticed me."

Her stomach twisted. Because, deep down, she knew why.

But she wasn’t about to say it.

Instead, she downed the rest of her whiskey, slammed the glass down, and stood.

"Have fun playing pretend, Crowley."

And with that, she turned on her heel, walking away.

But not before she heard his amused murmur behind her—

"Oh, love, you are fun when you’re in denial."

¤¤¤¤¤

The bunker was quiet, save for the soft hum of the overhead lights and the occasional rustle of a page turning.  

Lane sat at the war room table, flipping through an old tome, barely skimming the words. Across from her, Sam had his laptop open, scanning line after line of obscure translations.  

Dean was pacing.  

Crowley, leaning lazily against the doorway with a glass of whiskey, was pretending to be bored.  

The Book of the Damned sat in the center of the table, bound in old, worn leather, humming with power. They had found it. But finding it wasn’t the same as using it.  

"There’s got to be something we’re missing," Sam muttered, rubbing a hand over his face. "Every translation says the same thing—it’s possible to remove the Mark, but the spell requires a massive power source."

"Define ‘massive,’" Lane said, arching a brow.  

"More than what we have," Sam admitted.  

Dean let out a sharp exhale, planting his hands on the table. "Then we need to find something bigger."

"Bigger than what, Squirrel?" Crowley drawled, swirling his drink. "You lot already have the most dangerous magical artifact in existence sitting right there. What, are we summoning God next?"

Dean shot him a glare. "If it gets this thing off me? Yeah, I’ll send Him a damn invitation."

Sam sighed, leaning back. "We need answers. We need someone who knows exactly what we’re dealing with."

Lane glanced between them.  

The pause stretched.  

Then—  

"No," Dean said immediately.  

"Dean—"

"No," Dean repeated, shaking his head. "We are not bringing that dickbag into this."

"He was an angel," Sam argued. "A scribe. If anyone knows how to undo ancient biblical magic, it’s him."

Lane frowned. "Who?"

Crowley chuckled darkly. "Oh, you’re going to love this one, Poppet."

Sam sighed. "Metatron." 

Lane’s brow furrowed. "The guy who locked heaven?"

"And murdered Kevin," Dean muttered, jaw tightening. "Yeah. That guy."

The tension in the room thickened.  

"You think he’d even help?" Lane asked.  

"Doesn’t matter," Sam said, determined. "We’ll make him."  

Dean exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand down his face. "Fine. But when this goes sideways, I told you so."

Crowley smirked, raising his glass. "Ah, yes. Because dealing with angels has always gone well for you lot." 

No one laughed.  

Because they all knew—  

This was going to be a disaster.

¤¤¤¤¤

The bunker war room had seen its fair share of tense moments. But this? This was different.  

Metatron, leaning back in his chair, smirked as he delivered the words like a perfectly timed punchline.  

"The spell to remove the Mark of Cain requires a significant sacrifice. Specifically, the blood of a virgin, given willingly." 

Silence.  

Lane stiffened.  

Sam’s jaw clenched. Dean’s fingers twitched toward his gun.  

And Crowley—  

Crowley scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Oh, for hell’s sake. That’s all? Could’ve saved us all this tedious whining, boys. I’ll be back in a flash."

He turned on his heel, already preparing to disappear and fetch some unfortunate soul to drain.  

"Crowley—" Sam started, tone sharp.  

But before the Winchesters could object to ritualistic murder—  

Metatron smirked.  

"Why go so far for something so close?"

The words hung in the air, thick, suffocating.  

And then—  

Crowley stopped.  

His whole body went still.  

Slowly, deliberately, he turned back, eyes locking onto Metatron.  

Metatron just grinned wider.  

"Oh, don’t tell me you’re surprised." He gestured toward Lane with an almost lazy flick of his fingers. "It’s written all over her. Or rather… not written at all." 

Lane’s stomach dropped.  

She could feel the weight of the room shift.  

Sam inhaled sharply. Dean took an instinctive step forward.  

And Crowley—  

Crowley didn’t smirk. Didn’t roll his eyes.  

He just… stared.  

Metatron, savoring the tension, leaned back. "After all, wouldn’t it be tragic if the King of Hell had gone soft for someone so… unspoiled?"

That’s when Crowley spoke.  

"Try it."

His voice was quiet. Dangerous.  

Lane’s breath caught.  

Metatron’s smirk twitched, off-balance for the first time. "Oh?"

Crowley took a step forward, slow and deliberate, his eyes black as coal.  

"You so much as look at her with intent again, and I’ll carve out your Grace with my bare hands."

The temperature plummeted.  

Dean and Sam exchanged a look.  

Because this?  

This wasn’t just possessiveness.  

This wasn’t just Crowley guarding a bargain.  

This was something else.  

Something real.  

Metatron chuckled, but there was a nervous edge to it now. "Touchy, touchy. I do love a good overreaction."

Crowley didn’t blink. Didn’t smirk.  

Just stared him down like he was already dead.  

Lane’s pulse hammered.  

She felt it.  

Felt the way Sam noticed.  

Felt the way Dean, despite his irritation, wasn’t arguing.  

Felt the way Crowley hadn’t hesitated.  

And that?  

That terrified her.  

Sam cleared his throat, stepping forward in an attempt to wrestle control back. "Alright. Enough of the dramatics. We need details—what exactly does the spell require?"

Metatron exhaled, rolling his eyes. "Oh, you Winchesters. Always so serious. Fine." He folded his arms, shifting his weight. "The Book of the Damned says virgin blood is required, but there has to be another way—"

"Oh, of course there’s another way," Metatron interrupted cheerfully. "I mean, if you’d prefer, we could kill Cain himself and hope that resets the Mark. But good luck with that, considering he’s holed up somewhere in biblical exile."

Dean clenched his fists. "You’re lying. There’s always another way."

Metatron grinned. "Well, if you’d like to waste a few more months looking, be my guest. But this? This is the quickest way."

The weight in the room shifted again.  

Lane ran a hand through her hair, her brain catching up to everything at once.  

The spell needed her blood.  

The Winchesters weren’t going to let it happen.  

And Crowley—  

She dared a glance at him.  

He was still staring at Metatron, his jaw tight, his posture deceptively relaxed—but Lane could see it now.  

See the anger simmering beneath his skin. The way his fingers twitched like he was barely resisting the urge to tear Metatron apart.  

And then it hit her.  

This wasn’t just protectiveness.  

This was territorial.  

He wasn’t just stopping them from using her blood.  

He was staking a claim.  

Her stomach twisted.  

"Fine," Sam finally said, forcing himself to breathe. "Then we find another way. We’re not sacrificing Lane."

"Oh, how noble," Metatron mocked, clapping his hands together. "Good luck with that."

Dean ran a hand down his face, exhaling sharply. "Cas, get this bastard out of my sight."

Castiel stepped forward, grabbing Metatron roughly by the collar.  

"Oof, rough hands, Cas," Metatron muttered as he was yanked toward the door. "I’d say I’ll miss you all, but… we both know I won’t."

With a flare of angelic light, he was gone.  

The second the bunker was silent again, Dean turned toward Lane. "We are not talking about this again. Got it?"

Lane crossed her arms. "You’re the one still talking about it, Winchester."

"Damn right I am," Dean snapped. "Because we are not putting you on the chopping block for me."

Crowley let out a slow breath, rolling his shoulders.  

"For once, I actually agree with Squirrel."

Dean turned on him instantly. "Oh, shove it, Crowley. You don’t give a damn about her."  

The air stilled.  

Lane tensed.  

Sam’s eyes flicked between them.  

And Crowley—  

Crowley just smirked.  

But it was too slow, too deliberate.  

"Oh, darling," he murmured, his voice like silk wrapped around a blade. "You really should pay better attention."

Then, with a snap of his fingers, he was gone.  

Leaving behind a silence too heavy to ignore.

¤¤¤¤¤

The hotel room was dimly lit, golden light from the city outside pooling onto the floor. The air still crackled from Crowley’s teleportation, but Lane barely registered it—her mind was still back in the bunker, replaying the moment over and over.

Crowley hadn’t just been protective. He had been furious.

She turned, exhaling sharply. "Alright. Let’s hear it."

Crowley stood near the minibar, back to her, rolling his shoulders like he was shaking something off. His usual bravado, his smirk—it was gone.

"Hear what, love?" His voice was smooth, but… off.

Lane narrowed her eyes. "Don’t act like you don’t have something to say. You’ve been hovering ever since we got here."

Crowley finally turned to face her.

The expression he wore wasn’t what she expected.

Not a smirk. Not a glare.

Something calculated. Measured.

He stepped forward, slow and deliberate. Lane stood her ground, tilting her chin up slightly as he closed the space between them—not enough to be intimate, but too close to be casual.

"You’re not giving them your blood."

It wasn’t a command. Wasn’t a plea.

It was fact.

Lane’s fingers curled at her sides. "Yeah, I kinda figured that out when you nearly ripped Metatron’s head off."

Crowley scoffed, shaking his head. "I should have. Would’ve done the world a favor."

He was still too close.

His fingers twitched at his sides like he was holding something back.

Lane studied him carefully, watching the tiny cracks in his mask.

"Why do you care so much, Crowley?"

He stilled.

For a split second, she saw it—something vulnerable flashing behind his dark gaze.

Then, just as quickly, it was gone.

Crowley exhaled sharply and rolled his neck, forcing out a low, amused chuckle.

"Because I do, dammit."

Lane froze.

Crowley froze.

The words had slipped out too fast, too unguarded. He blinked once, like he was just now realizing what he had said.

Lane opened her mouth, but before she could speak—

He backpedaled instantly, scoffing. "Can’t have my favorite pet project getting herself killed, now can I?"

There it was. The deflection. The Crowley move.

But Lane wasn’t buying it.

Her eyes searched his, but he wouldn’t meet her gaze. Instead, he turned away, walking toward the minibar, reaching for the bottle of whiskey.

His hands were too steady, his movements too controlled—

Like he was trying to erase the moment that had just slipped through his fingers.

Lane’s pulse pounded in her ears. She stepped forward. "Crowley—"

"Don’t."

The word was quiet, but firm.

Lane halted.

Crowley poured himself a drink, threw it back in one go, then set the glass down a little too hard.

Then—before she could push him further—

He snapped his fingers and vanished.

Lane stood there, breath unsteady, staring at the empty space where he had just been.

Her hand tightened around the glass he had left behind, heart still hammering.

Because Crowley hadn’t just been protecting her.

And now, no matter how hard he tried to hide it—

He knew it too.

[harzilla]

Twst AU where Yuu shows up at the entrance ceremony as a baby. Like a little baby in the coffin wrapped up in a ceremonial robes. Nobody can track down this kid's parents or any kind of family so through shenanigans they end up adopted by Crowley. Professor Trein coming to the rescue giving parenting advice and keeping Crowley accountable as a parent. Crewel is still a student and somehow gets saddled on babysitting this tiny human even though he's got housewardens duties. He really wishes it was a puppy instead, he ends up returning the kid wearing a puppy onesie.

Years later the Entrance ceremony happens and events of the game begin. Everybody isn't sure what to think of the Headmage's kid, wondering if they're just as bad as Crowley. Yuu's actually a pretty decent person and student. Nobody knows how Crowley managed to actually raise a decent human being. Crowley cries dramatically every time Yuu acts nicer to the teachers then to him. Trein thinks Yuu deserves a better parental figure and Crewel acts nicer when he's feeling petty towards the old crow(and it's totally not because he has a soft spot towards the prefect. What do you mean he still has a photo of him and Yuu when Yuu was a baby? Don't be ridiculous)

The dynamic is pretty much the Twst version of Maka and Spirit.

Any guy who crushes on Yuu is weighing whether it's worth it to have Crowley as a future Father-in-law.

[ineffablyruined]

DOES ANYONE ELSE SEE THAT SMILE?!!?

Gif by @stars-bean

It's at the very end. And it's just a split second. A hint.

But I swear it's there.

You all see it, too, right?

His eyes get a little twinkle, the corners of his mouth twitch up. He wants to spend the night before he realizes he shouldn't.

HE WANTS TO SPEND THE NIGHT.

(Someone help me, I'm unwell)

[whatever-fanfics]

Bells Ringing

Can anyone imagine what it would be like for Yuu to get married to any of the guys in Twisted Wonderland.

Like after the graduation from NRC and settling down, literally anywhere else.

And it hits the news, because of course. Why would so many famous people be attending the wedding of some random person. You have the freaking

SECOND PRINCE of Sunset Savanah

The KING of BRIARVALLEY

SUPERMODEL Vil Schoenheit

THE HEAD OF TOP SECRET ORGANIZATION S.T.Y.X. Idia Shroud

The Headmage and staff of notable prestigious Night Raven College

etc.

The press would lose their minds. And trying to interview them would be hell.

"Your majesty, simply put why are in attendance to this wedding in particular?" "The dearest child of man, one of my closest friends, is the one getting married today."

"Mr. Shoenheit, Is it true that they had a cat walk them down the aisle?" "No comment"

Crowley getting emotional and sobbing during the ceremony from his seat and getting the nastiest side eye from Crewel and Trein.

I think Sam would take up an entire row for himself and his friends from the other side.

The afterparty would be even more chaotic.

[calcifiedunderland]

The Prefect’s Kiss~

—When a Night Raven College’s housewarden falls under the Sleeping Curse, only one person can wake them up.

Riddle Rosehearts, Azul Ashengrotto, Kalim al-Asim x gn! Reader

Leona, Vil, Idia, Malleus ver.

“Oh! How terrible! Oh woe is me! How could this happen?!”

Crowley wailed at the news, sobbing fake tears beneath his mask. “What will I tell the parents?! The press?! How will I be able to afford vacation- I MEAN funding for my wonderful students?!”

Crewel rolled his eyes. He’d actually feel sorry for the Headmage if he was actually crying tears. The tissue clutched in Crowley’s fist was still dry.

Trein sighed, “this is the antidote recipe for Sleeping Death. Although, the materials are extremely hard to come by.” Crewel scanned the paper, noting the ingredients. “The recipe is possible, although they are quite expensive.” Crowley cringed, “how much will it be?” He screeched at the amount Trein said.

Meanwhile, Crewel muttered to himself. “The only other option is possibly true love’s kiss.” He looked up, “well, I’ll get the ingredients first thing in the-“ He stopped. Where Crowley was standing, was now a few black feathers fluttering down to the carpet. Crewel’s face fell, “oh no…”

In Ramshackle dorm, the Headmage chuckled nervously, sweating. You stared in disbelief, “I… honestly can’t believe that happened?” You were beyond shocked to hear that a Housewarden of all students had been knocked out with Sleeping Death. Crowley nodded wisely, “And I have decided to generously ask you to do the honors!”

“Huh?!” You stared incredulously at the Headmage as he ushered you out the door. He looked cheerful, “ah, aren’t I so gracious? I’m reuniting you with your true love!” You stared at him, jaw dropped, “HUH?!”

Riddle Rosehearts

♥️ The Headmage’s speech about True Love’s Kiss echoed in your head. You’d admitted to your friends that you had just a tiny, itty-bitty crush on your beloved Teapot-Tyrant. You didn’t know if he’d ever like you back, even though Ace swore up and down that Riddle gave you special treatment when you, Ace, and Deuce got into trouble (aka gently scolding you while they got collared and yelled at)

♥️ You didn’t want to give yourself false hope, even though you got butterflies every time Riddle personally waited on you during Unbirthday Parties and offered to tutor you when you didn’t understand something. If only you didn’t look away every time you got flustered, then you see the sweet blush on Riddle’s face and the gentle look he’d give you when you were together.

♥️ Now, you stared at the boy in front of you. Your beloved hothead-redhead looked too peaceful to be under a sleeping curse. You deadpanned at Ace and Deuce. “Explain.”

♥️ Apparently, while the two of them were messing around in the botanical gardens, they dropped some draught into Trey’s strawberry plants. And Trey baked the strawberries into a tart for Riddle. It was just your luck that your two beloved idiots had Sleeping Death as their potion.

You rubbed your temples. Deuce held his head in his hands. “The Housewarden will be so furious,” Ace said in a daze. Cater nodded solemnly, tucking his phone away, “your heads’ll be off quicker than you can say Magicam.”

“And they’ll be permanently off if you don’t leave them now.” Trey’s aura made them bustle out of the room, and Cater flashed you a little kissy face before leaving after Trey. You turned back to Riddle, sitting next to him. You gently cupped his cheek, brushing his bangs away from his face.

Even though you wanted to do it so many times before, thought of kissing him made you nervous. Especially when he could never wake up. Still, you leaned forward.

“Please wake up Riddle, I’ll miss you too much” you begged, before gently pressing your lips against his. You lingered there for a few seconds, before gasping and pulling away when you felt him move. Riddle’s eyes were wide open and staring at you, his face growing red. “P-prefect?! What is the meaning of this?!”

You threw your arms around Riddle, who dazedly hugged you back. Ace and Deuce fell through the door, and Cater and Trey rushed in. Deuce grabbed Ace and forced him down, bowing before Riddle, “we’re sorry, Housewarden! It won’t happen again!” Riddle looked at Trey and Cater in confusion, who explained “you were under the Sleeping Curse thanks to these two.”

You felt Riddle tense under you, and you pulled away. You cupped his cheek gently as he grit his teeth, “deal with them later, ok? Just rest,” you kissed his cheek and Riddle’s anger fizzled out as Ace and Deuce ran out of them room. Cater chuckled as he and Trey left, “we’ll leave you two lovebirds!” He sneakily snapped a photo, with you and Riddle wrapped in each others arms gazing at each other. He dm’ed you the photo, #truelove’skiss #finallythesetwoaretogether #getaroom

Azul Ashengrotto

💜 The Mostro Lounge was still running normally thanks to Jade. It seemed that only him and Floyd knew that Azul was under the Sleeping Curse. The entire dorm might revolt against working if they knew their Housewarden was cursed. The thought made you giggle, despite your growing nervousness of your crush being cursed.

💜 It was a long shot that Azul would like you. After all, more often than not you caused a lot of trouble for him. But still, you supposed you did get more discounts than the average student. And Azul did seem more keen on roping you into contracts, but somehow your end of the ‘deal’ wasn’t as harsh as others…

💜As Jade lead you into Azul’s bedroom, you asked what happened. Somehow, one of his edible mushrooms had been watered with Sleeping Death. They were making new dishes for the menu, and Azul accidentally ate it. You supposed they knew who spilled the potion into Jade’s precious mushrooms - you saw Ace and Deuce being worked to the bone in the kitchens.

💜“I’ll leave you two,” Jade looked worried when you first arrived, but somehow he looked amused as shut the door.

In the watery lighting of Azul’s room, the quietness felt loud as you remembered the Headmage’s words. You had to kiss him. He was your true love. You brushed Azul’s hair from his face, “are you?” You wondered out loud.

For a while, you tried to squash the growing feelings you had for him. But you couldn’t help but get flustered when he smiled so charmingly at you. And the way he’d offer you anything, anything Prefect please accept this, probably in a guilty attempt to ‘repay’ you. But deep down, you knew there was only one way you wanted him to repay you.

Despite yourself, you felt a lump in your throat as you watched Azul sleep. You grit your teeth. “You can put me in any contract you want. Whatever the price for this is, I-I’ll pay it,” you bit your lip, “just wake up, Azul.” And you pressed your lips to his before you could back down.

You couldn’t hear anything over your heartbeat loud in your ears, as you watched his chest move upwards while he breathed in deeply. His eyes snapped open, and immediately he focused on you, albeit blurry. Still, he could recognize you anywhere.

“Prefect?” Azul’s voice was raspy, and he frantically felt the nightstand for his glasses, “wh-what are you doing here?!” Your mouth flopped open but no sound came out. You stared at each other as Azul shoved his glasses on his face while scrambling to sit up. “A-AZUL!” You said too loudly, “you’re awake!” You both probably would’ve stayed there, staring, for the rest of the year when the door slammed open.

“Azuuuul~” Floyd ran in. “Guess ya finally woke up~ ” Jade sauntered in, and you could see relief in his face. “Yes,” Jade smirked at Azul, “it’s a good thing Prefect was here, isn’t it?”

Azul turned pink, and mercifully the twins seemed to think he’d had enough. They looked at each other with a grin, and excused themselves. You found yourself smiling shyly at Azul. “Are you feeling okay?” Azul seemed spaced out, but he snapped back to focus on you. He gulped.

“On account that you’re my… true love,” Azul took a deep breath, “perhaps you’d like to sign a contract now?”

Kalim al-Asim

🧡 The Headmage had barely said anything before Jamil slammed down your door and grabbed your wrist, hauling you straight to Scarabia. You’d never seen Jamil so stressed, ever. Crowley promptly abandoned you, wailing that he had to “go appease the parents.”

🧡 You could at least see why he was upset. The al-Asim’s were no regular family, after all. And neither was Kalim. Still, you couldn’t shake the thought. Bright, bubbly Kalim laying in bed under the Sleeping Curse. It didn’t matter how rich he was, how could someone do that to him?

🧡 Maybe it was because of how everyone at NRC was, but you’d come to appreciate Kalim. It wasn’t a stretch to say you enjoyed his company - whether it was him dragging you out on midnight carpet rides, or out to a party. His smile made the chaos bearable.

🧡 You never hid how happy he made you, especially so during his parties. Kalim always made sure to play your favorite songs, but you never noticed his smile widen when he saw you dance. You always looked so carefree, like a bird in flight. He always beamed when he got you to relax and have fun.

Jamil wasted no time dropping you off at Kalim’s room. “Just… please, I-” He swallowed thickly, before nodding at you. “I’ll leave you be.” He closed the door, and you slowly made your way to Kalim. He was laying among a dozen pillows, the with a few rays of sunlight peeking through the curtains. You sighed and sat next to him.

Scarabia felt downright somber without the sunniness of their Housewarden. Kalim’s usually smiling face was now devoid of any emotion. It bothered you more than you thought, to see Kalim with a neutral expression. You idly twisted a lock of his hair. The air felt thick without him to lighten the mood.

You didn’t want to think about never seeing Kalim again. Ever. “The dorm feels empty without you, Kalim,” you gently stroked his cheek, begging “you have to wake up to make it come back to life.” Softly you kissed him, closing your eyes tightly. You hovered there for a second, and pulled away with a gasp when you felt movement.

Kalim began stretching, still laying on the bed. “Mmh? Prefect?” he sat up with a small yawn, “What are you doing here?” He suddenly gasped, ruby eyes brightening. “Did we have a sleepover?! I totally forgot!”

You burst into laughter, feeling your eyes grow wet. You launched yourself at Kalim, both of you falling back onto the bed. Kalim hugged you back tightly, “Huh? What’s this about? Don’t cry, Prefect - I’m here!”

—————

I finally got some free time so here’s the fic three months late oops

Thanks for reading!!! Comments and reblogs are always appreciated, I hope you enjoyed 😄 the rest of the housewardens should be posted soon!

Take care shrimpies~ ✨ calci