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#dire crowley imagine
angelltheninth · 5 months
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Could we get some dire Crowley nsfw headcanons? I feel so hard for him jgjbfuh
Not many people ask for him, but he's really hot!
Pairing: Dire Crowley x Fem!Reader
Tags: nsfw, smut, BDSM, toy use, buying clothes, dom/sub dynmics, cute nicknames, marks, showing off
A/N: I think it's the mask... it's the mask for sure.
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A big BDSM enthusiast, the kind that has a whole collection of the gear in a closet
Calls you kitten, darling, love, plaything
The kind of man who will buy you any kind of clothes you want and then proceed to show you off, and insist he takes it off later that same night
Proud to show any mark you might make on him only if you show the ones he made on you
You can only take his mask off after you've made him come once
Uses a lot of toys both in and out of the bedroom
His pointy ears are his weakspot and he hates that you figured that out
If you're being too much of a brat he will make you wear a toy up your pussy for the entire next day, and you better keep it down when he activates the vibrations, you don't want everyone on staff to know what a slut you are
Will fuck you in his office any chance he gets
Knows you wear full bondage gear under your clothes when you feel extra kinky
Has two phones, one for work, and the other full of nudes, videos and voice mails you sent to each other
Never masturbates because he feels like the only time pleasure should be had is when you're doing it to each other, toys are of course and so is mutual masturbation, but nothing solo
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How would crowley react and do when mc tells him they don't want to go home anymore and that he can stop searching for their world?
basically they feel more lively here in twisted wonderland
Dire Crowley
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The sigh of relief is really big.
Because Crowley hasn't even started his mission with 90% certainty.
And now he doesn't have to admit it.
This is the final decision.
Can't cancel.
Crowley still wants to be lazy.
If you ask the reason why he hasn't had time to find a way to get you back, he blames the Overblot cases.
Because Crowley's role in finding them out has been really big.
Now you officially become an NRC student.
Which is not a problem at all if you are a girl.
*sarcasm*
Crowley might get you a fake ID.
But it's really badly faked.
You'll have to ask for better from Azul.
Crowley will probably arrange a place for you to live after your studies.
You also get a little weekly allowance.
Isn't he kind?
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rayroseu · 9 months
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happy fathers day to the dads ever !! (2)
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i like the headcanon that lilia was a bitttt 🤏grumpy when first taking care of silver 😌 (kinda like how loid found anya troublesome at first until he studied parenting-)
like lilia "this bundle of sunshine??? you do know i hate the sun right?💢" vanrouge-- with a very cheerful baby in his arms
and YEAH i know,,,,, crowley at human fae war is so NOT TRUE. twst is just dangling that hint that crowley MIGHT BE fae akjdka IDK but that soldier is not really him-- yet i like to delude✨ that "what if maybe" you know😎‼️👍✨ (this will never be canon akdjsj)
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gyarunie · 2 months
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CROWLEY IS GETTING AN SSR CARD?
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WHAT THE FUCKKK????
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dilatorywriting · 1 year
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Heroes vs. Villains : The Staff
Platonic GN!Reader x NRC Staff vs. RSA Staff Word Count: 2.7k
Summary: Woe to the Ramshackle Prefect, being caught up in the drama between the Disney Villains and their respective heroes. NRC Staff Version (Part 1: Crewel and Crowley)
ie. Headmaster Crowley is a nightmare, and Professor Crewel is, well, cruel. And to be perfectly honest, after meeting another dog-loving professor who doesn't treat you like absolute garbage, the Royal Sword Academy is starting to look a lot more appealing.
[PART 1] [PART 2] [PART 3] [PART 4]
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‘Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can never hurt me!’
Crowley had chirped that very sentiment to you ad nauseum, with all the enthusiasm of an old raven eyeing a shiny penny.
“Do you really believe that?” you sniffled, angry, as you sat slumped over in one of his rickety office chairs.
People at this stupid school were mean. And yeah, school yard insults and casual accusations of being the House Wardens’ little bitch were one thing—but these assholes would go right for the throat. All of your insecurities—your fears—all laid out like a nice spread of hors d'oeuvres ready for the picking. You had endured enough sharp barbs for a lifetime, and the fact that your glorious Headmaster and self-proclaimed parental figure kept writing it all off as a ‘learning experience’ was driving you mad.
“Of course I do, dear child!” he beamed. “What sort of educator would I be if I didn’t practice what I preach! Words are but the wind, as they say!”
You nodded, sage, and shot him a smile so sugary sweet it could rot the teeth right out of his skull.
“I wish I’d never met you and I hope that all your feathers fall off one by one,” you chirped. “And I use the ‘Number One Child’ mug you gave me to scoop water out of the toilets when the plumbing fails.”
Crowley’s mouth fell open with a nearly audible clunk, and if he weren’t so wrapped up in all kinds of immoral, black magic, bull-shittery, you would have liked to imagine that maybe that had been the sound of his heart cracking in his stupid, embroidery-covered, chest.  
You popped up from your chair and breezily made your way to the exit. You propped yourself up against the intricate, wooden, frame and clapped your hands together like a bubbly preschool teacher addressing a room full of particularly dull children.  
“I’m glad we could get that out in the open in a completely pain-free way. Words really can’t hurt anyone!”
You managed to slip the door closed just as he started to wail.
.
.
That afternoon you made your way to Professor Crewel’s office, as had become your routine. It was nice. Sometimes you would help him grade papers, sometimes you would just nibble on fancy cookies and listen as he ranted about the incompetence of certain staff members which shall not be named.
Sometimes his dogs were with him in the afternoons—a pair of giant, lithe, wolf-like beasts that were most certainly of a very proud and expensive lineage. Jasper was the black one and Badun the white, and each had a coat so glossy and well-maintained that they could put your own hair care to shame. Badun was enthusiastic, charismatic, and would bound to greet anyone who entered. Jasper was more quiet, reserved, but he was secretly your favorite of the duo. Whenever you stopped in after classes, the shadowy hound would lumber over and rest his giant head in your lap.
“No puppies today?” you called when you were greeted with silence rather than a wave of happy kisses.
“They’re in for their groom,” Crewel mumbled, busy at work with his head bowed over some lab reports or other. Normally he would grouchily correct you that his two precious pooches were adults. Dogs. And should be addressed as such. He must have been really distracted today. Or maybe you were just wearing him down.
You settled into the lovely, plush, chair off to the side that you had long since claimed as your own, and set your bookbag on the floor by your feet with a thump.
After a few minutes of comfortable silence with nothing but the sound of scratching ink over paper to break up the monotony, Professor Crewel dropped his head into his hands with a miserable sort of sigh.
“You should not have spoken to Crowley as you did.”
You blinked, startled. “What?”
“I of all people understand how frustrating the Headmaster’s antics can be,” Crewel continued, firm. “But you are still a student of this Institution—and one in a precarious enough position as it is. So you need to be mindful of your tongue.”
Indignation roiled through your gut, followed by a sharp prick of disquiet that you couldn’t quite place.
“Then he should be mindful to treat me like a student and not some—some pet project,” you huffed, kicking irritably at your patched backpack for want of nothing else to do. “And besides, what’ll he even do? Expel the one person in this entire college who mops up every single one of his messes? And I mean, it’s not like he’s running around the school crying or anything. I wasn’t that mean.”
Crewel pinched the bridge of his nose and you paused, mouth parting in surprise.
“Oh come on, he did not.”
“In the name of preserving our esteemed leader’s dignity I will say no more on the matter,” he grit out, and you fought the urge to immediately whip out your phone to message Ace, and Cater, and every other rabid gossip you could think of.
“Well, maybe he deserved it,” you snipped, crossing your arms stubbornly across your chest. A bit of cautious warmth spread through you and you nervously plucked at one of the loose threads on your uniform sleeve. “And besides,” you mumbled. "He can cry about me calling him a shitty father all he wants. You’ve been way more of a dad to me here than he could ever try to be.”
“I beg your pardon.”
You froze, fingers locking in place around the picked-apart edges of your jacket. The ice in his voice was unfamiliar and entirely unpleasant. It sent a frigid wave of worry curling through your veins. Had you overstepped? You’d thought—You’d just thought—
“I-I mean,” you spluttered. “I only meant that, well… Uhm… You’re really nice to spend time with. A-And, I just…” He made you feel like you were home again. Like even though Ramshackle was empty and cold, that you could still walk into this little office and say ‘I’m back!’ to an actual, real-life person and not just the shadows that lived in your foyer.
“Let me be perfectly clear, Prefect,” he sneered. There was an undercurrent of hostility running so sharply through every word that you were left wondering frantically if you’d unintentionally trampled over a sensitive topic. You hadn’t thought it was a big deal. You just—you just really, really looked up to him. And felt safe with him. And—And—
‘I’m sorry,’ you wanted to say. But instead you just let out an odd kind of choked squeak.
“I have no intention of playing parent to anyone,” he snapped. “Let alone an untrained brat who can’t even be bothered to play civil with the people who do attempt to care for them.”
Ouch.
“R-Right,” you spluttered, swallowing around the burbling lump in your throat and the warmth prickling along your lash line. “O-Of course. I’m sorry for assuming. I—I… uhm…”
‘I’ll just go then.’
But just like with failed apology, those four little syllables just couldn’t seem to make it past your lips either. So instead you just shakily snatched your bag from the floor and bolted from his office, burrowing your stinging cheeks as far into your collar as they would go. The last thing you needed to do was give anyone at this stupid school any more ammunition against you. And ‘Cry Baby Prefect’ sounded like another nasty nickname that would stick to you like gum to a flat-heeled shoe.
It’s fine, you whispered to yourself, voice wobbling far more than you would have liked. Grim hated when you came back smelling like dogs anyways.
.
.
“My goodness, are you alright?”
You blinked, harried, and glanced around yourself properly for what felt like the first time in hours. You were… not on campus anymore. Huh. What a trip. You’d never been so upset that you’d blindly run off into an entire new town before. But you supposed there was a first time for everything. You did remember feeling too nauseous to return to your little hovel for the evening, but you hadn’t really expected your frantic pacing to take you quite this far out of the way.
“Hello? Can you hear me?”
Oh. Someone was talking to you, weren’t they?
Standing in front of you was a tall, lanky, man in a tweed jacket. He was stooped down a bit to make eye contact with you, and those hazel eyes were creased with worry. His blonde hair was pushed half-off his forehead in a style that looked more haphazard than intentional, and the hand he was offering you was littered with splotches of ink. There were patches of white and black dog fur littered across his entire outfit like some horrible fashion statement, and the thought of puppies made your throat tighten up all over again.
“My name is Cliff Rogerson,” he said, steady and kind. “I’m one of the instructors at the Royal Sword Academy. Are you lost? Do you know how to get home from here?”
Do you know how to get home?
You laughed once, manic, and then promptly burst into tears.
“Oh, dear,” he sighed, his heavy brow furrowing low with concern, and patted you consolingly on the shoulder. “Oh, dear.”
You were herded into a nearby café and directed into one of the quiet, corner, booths. The lights were soft and fuzzy in here, and the pleasant warmth of fresh pastries brushed gingerly along your frayed nerves. Mister Rogerson pressed a steaming mug of hot chocolate into your hands, and placed a delicately wrapped muffin off to the side of it. It was a tempting offering, and you decided to unbury your head from your hands long enough to partake.
“So how did you end up out here, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“I’m a student at Night Raven,” you mumbled into your cocoa.
You could tell he was doing his best not to look shocked, which was at least a dozen steps above the way the rest of your stupid school would just gawk at you in outright consternation.
“Forgive me,” he smiled, gentling his apprehension into something that was more polite curiosity that anything. “But you don’t really seem like one of their usual pupils.”
So you explained your situation—the Mirror, and the magiclessness, and the homelessness. You talked about your friends, and your new demon cat/evil baby, and how much you missed stupid things like good shower pressure and fuzzy socks. Mister Rogerson listened to all of it with an attentive sort of sympathy that you hadn’t seen since, well, probably since you were dropped face-first into a school full of burgeoning war criminals.  
“That sounds like a time and a half,” he said once you’d finally tired yourself out. “I’m sorry you’ve had to go through all that.”
You picked at your muffin. It was ridiculously fluffy and eating it felt like pulling bits and pieces out of a cloud. A very, very delicious cloud.
“Forgive me for saying so,” he hummed, pensive. “But your situation doesn’t sound particularly safe.”
You laughed. “That’s one word for it.”
Mister Rogerson frowned, another twitch of that uneasy worry playing across his face. He ruffled around in his jacket pocket for a moment and pulled out a neat, cream colored, business card.
“It may be overstepping of me to offer, but at the same time I do think as an educator it’s my duty to try and help every student that I can,” he smiled, kind. It crinkled the skin around his eyes. “The RSA is not overly far from Night Raven College. If you ever want to stop by—if you ever need an ear to listen, or just a space to get away from it all—my door will always be open to you.”
You took the little piece of paper carefully, like it was something precious. There were swirls of colorful music notes splattered across the backdrop of it—raucous bursts of neons that were as endearing as they were ugly.
‘Tacky,’ spat a too-familiar voice in the back of your head. ‘What sort of statement was this lowlife trying to make?‘ You could practically feel the phantom distaste emanating from wherever a certain two-toned professor had camped out for the evening.
Probably at home, you thought bitterly. Because he has a home, right? And you are not at all upset that you will never be welcomed into it. And that you will probably never get to cuddle his puppies ever again. Nope. Not at all.
You swallowed the little burst of unpleasantness that accompanied the train of thought, and pocketed the card with a smile.
“Thank you. I’ll definitely have to take you up on that.”
.
.
.
Divus Crewel was many things, and unfortunately, being as cruel as his namesake was often one of them. He glanced back to the clock ticking on his wall for what was perhaps the dozenth time that hour. You hadn’t been by since his—ah—outburst a few weeks prior.
He had perhaps reacted a bit more unpleasantly than he normally would have. You’d just… caught him off guard was all. It was a bold declaration you’d made, and what? Had you really expected him to be overjoyed by the idea of forced parenthood? To swoon over the notion that someone had decided to latch onto him and his perfectly pressed suit like a leech despite the fact that he was so obviously thriving in his life of solitude?
And it wasn’t that he expected you to take his biting comments lying down. Oh no. You were fierce, and determined, and were most likely on your way here to bang down his door demanding recompenses for all your suffering. There was a tray of those too-expensive cookies you liked tucked away in his top drawer. Just in case you did show up and throw one of your tantrums, and he needed something quick to pacify you. That… That was all.
But each day that he waited for you to sneak back into his office was another spent in quiet solitude. Badun had taken to whining at the door and Jasper hardly got up from his bed at all—just tucked his black nose into his equally black paws and stared straight into Crewel’s soul. Like he was judging him.
He caught himself glancing at the clock again and forcibly turned back to his work.
This was ridiculous. You were ridiculous. And stubborn. And so, very, danger prone. Had something happened maybe? Was that why you’d disappeared—because you’d gotten caught up in some sort of trouble again?
Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick—
He looked back at the clock.
Tick. Tick. Tick—
His office door flew open with a BANG and he swiveled in his chair, ready to chastise you for making such a ridiculous entrance. Instead, he ended up nearly nose-to-nose with a weeping Dire Crowley. The man wailed into his clawed hands, looking very much like he might accidentally stab himself in the eye all the while.
“HOW AM I SUCH A FAILURE OF A PARENT?!” he bawled. “WHAT COULD I HAVE DONE TO PREVENT THIS?!”
“What?” Crewel gaped, head spinning. “What’s happened?”
Crowley let out another inhuman squawk and shoved a piece of parchment into the alchemist’s crimson-gloved hands. It was torn at the top, likely from where it’d been pinned to something before the raving Headmaster had swiped it. Crewel read over the familiar script with narrowed eyes, something unpleasant twisting in his belly.
‘The Ramshackle Prefect kindly sends their regards, but unfortunately has other commitments for this evening. Please contact Professor Cliff Rogerson of the RSA music department in case of an emergency.’
“MY BABY LEFT ME!” Crowley sobbed, nearly inconsolable. “WHO’S GOING TO DO MY TAXES NOW?!”
The leather of Crewel’s gloves groaned in protest as his hands tightened into fists—his nails biting into his palm even through the sturdy material.  
“What do we even do?” the old crow lamented, sounding so genuinely crestfallen it was almost unnerving.
Jasper and Badun circled their master’s ankles wearily, eyes bright and lips twitching with nervous whines.
“I think,” Crewel grit out, the note crumpling between his fingers, “that it’s well past time that we have a chat with the Prefect about the importance of personal safety. And of the consequences of running off with strangers.”
.
.
.
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aerith-jade · 1 year
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Crowley: For always helping us sort things out, anything you say in the next 30 seconds is free, starting now.
Yuu, pointing at everyone: I think you're all cocky, selfish, always taking me for granted--
Crowley: Stop--
Yuu: Wait. I still have 23 seconds and I'M NOT DONE.
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cupids-chamber · 1 year
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— " MR . HEADMASTER ? " Slightly suggestive content / gender neutral reader
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He coddled into your neck, snuggling deeper into your embrace; a dazed sigh escapes the man as he grasps at your body, binding himself into your embrace. You could feel his body relax within your arms, warmth radiating off of one another. Slowly you reached out, running your hands up his torso and up to his neck, the touch lingered on his skin, even though the clothes everywhere you touched radiated with warmth; his eyes widened as you gently pulled at his collar. A cheeky grin overlapped your features, as you took in, just how affected he is with your subtle actions.  
His breath hitched as you lightly grazed your fingers through his hair; carefully you tighten your grasp and tug him back using his hair. The action resulted in him releasing a whine; in protest all the while the two of you come face to face. Taking in his flustered features, you let out a breezy chuckle, if you hadn’t known any better you would’ve sworn he had gotten redder than before. 
Softly you made use of your free hand, lifting his face up, slowly pulling his face closer to you. You leaned down causing the two of your foreheads to touch, you watched as his eyes widened slightly and he began babbling some sort of nonsense you’d rather not pay attention too. It didn’t take long before you leaned down and settled the distance between one another. 
Swallowing his whines, you carefully analyzed how he came undone in your grasp, how even the bare touch of your fingertips against his skin could rile him up, so easily. You took in all the small details before letting him go. He struck you with a confused look, his face flustered with a look of slight annoyance and displeasure at the abrupt pause; you couldn’t help but giggle. “Don’t you have work to finish, Mr. headmaster?”
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© cupids-chamber, do not repost, plagiarize, translate, or adapt my work without prior permission and or confirmation.
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I've been dreaming of my First Friend.
In this strange new world, nothing is certain—not even one’s safety.
But through it all, you were with me. Always by my side.
Please don’t leave me behind.
How does a moment last forever? How can a story never die?
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"Grrr...! This stupid thing won't close," Grim complains. He fumbles with the buttons on his robes, which refuse to be secured.
"That's because you've got two left thumbs... or, more accurately, no thumbs at all," his human companion teases. They crouch down, gesturing for him. "Here, I'll help you."
"Myahaha, that's my minion!" Grim scrambles over on all fours—definitely not like a cat. He's far more dignified than some glorified house pet or familiar.
"You're going to get your clothes dirty if you walk around like that," they scold him lightly as they cinch his robes shut, then dusts him off. They pause, going in to adjust his waistband, then the angle of his cap. "There you go." "All set for your big day."
"Our big day," Grim corrects, nudging them on the cheek with his paw. "We're a 2-for-1 deal, remember?"
"Right. Me and the almighty Grim-sama," they reply with a laugh, poking his little nose.
An ear-splitting sob disrupts the intimate scene. Three ghosts in top hats and gray cloaks sail in—one small, one plump, one scrawny—all wailing.
"I can't believe this day's finally arrived!"
"Grimmy and Prefect, all grown up... Off to tackle Twisted Wonderland head-on..."
"WAAAAH, I'm gonna miss my living roomies!!"
"Hey, hey, what's with the empty nest syndrome, guys?" The prefect huddles with the ghosts. They cannot physically touch, but the same energy is there, their arms lingering where the ghosts’ bodies float.
“B-But…!”
“Don't worry. No matter the time or place, we'll carry the spirit of Ramshackle dorm with us wherever we go.“ They smile sympathetically. “That means you’ll always be with us! This world, this life… and into the next.”
"D-Do you really think friendships can last more than a lifetime?" one ghost asks through his tears.
"For sure. So please… Don’t cry because it’s over. Smile because it happened. Can you do that for us?”
“O-Okay,” the trio blubbers and sniffles.
“Geez, you’re all a buncha babies,” Grim sighs, paws on his hips. “C’mon, we’re supposed to be celebratin’ US today!! Like my minion said, let’s see some smiles, yeah?”
“We’ll come see you off at the ceremony the,” the small ghost suggests. The cheer is strained, like he is holding back a torrent of tears.
"The ceremony…” The prefect’s eyes go wide and panicked. “Oh crap, we're going to be late! The headmaster should already be starting his speech...!"
"Not a problem, leave it to this Grim-sama. A teleportation spell's easy as takin' a tuna can from a kitten!"
"Sorry, guys. Gotta run...! We'll see you there?"
Grim expertly clambers onto the prefect's neck, making himself comfortable as a boa on their shoulders. The magestone dangling from his neck lights up, and the duo are enveloped in its glow.
The last sight before they blip away are the ghosts, waving good-bye with wet eyes.
A blink later, the two are among a crowd of students in the same uniform as them. Long robes, graduation caps affixed to their heads. They're lined up behind a stage, the curtain stained the dark sapphire of a night sky and dotted with sparkling stars.
Crowley's voice drones from the other side, amplified by a microphone. A waiting crowd murmurs appreciatively as he crows on about hard work, congratulations, and new beginnings.
"See?" Grim winks at his minion. "What'd I tell ya? Anything’s a cinch with my magic~”
"Great going, archmage-in-the-making. You really saved our butts," they say, ruffling his fur. “Come to think of it, were running late for our first day too… and the sorting ceremony before that. I guess we’re destined to be tardy together, huh, Grim?”
"Heh, you got that right!" He bumped his tiny fist with his partner's. “Let’s keep at it, you ‘n me! Grim-sama and his loyal minion, together forever.”
"Oiiiii! Grim, Prefect!!"
"Oh, that’s..."
They glance up, finding a group of boys making their way toward them in the crowd. One with a heart etched onto his face, the other, a spade. A wolf beastman, another with reptilian eyes and slicked back hair, trailed by a smaller, delicate boy and an android with a head of blue flames. Old friends from the other dorms.
"There you are. We thought we'd missed you." Deuce calls out, looking relieved.
"Idiot, we wouldn’t have missed them—you worried for nothin’. They're first on the chopping block cuz they're sooo special." Ace rolls his eyes. "Lu~cky. You get to show off and hog the spotlight before anyone else does.”
"We um... wanted to come and say good luck," Epel offers. "It's a big deal to have made it this far. Starting a new life in an unfamiliar world and all, it's a lot."
"Thanks, everyone. I really couldn't have made it these past few years without your support."
"Ah-HEM!" Grim coughs.
"... And Grim," the prefect added, scratching him behind the ears.
"This is really it, then." Jack is blunt, his arms folded. "Our last chapter at Night Raven College."
"Hmph! Is that all you have to say?! Surely you can muster up more oomph than that!! Today is not just that--it is the start of the rest of our lives." Sebek straightens, looking rather proud.
"Hmm..." Ortho taps at his chin contemplatively. "You know what? When words are not enough to express ourselves, action may be the next best thing!"
"... Wait, what exactly are you suggesting?" Ace asks suspiciously, an eyebrow raised.
"A group hug! For one final sendoff."
Sebek is the first to protest, his voice cutting through loud and clear. "I refuse!! There is absolutely NO WAY I am engaging in physical intimacy with you humans!"
"Not so hot on the idea either."
Ace and Deuce warily stare at each other. "Not happening," they chorus at the same time.
"Well, if the others don't want to, then..." Epel trails off.
"Guys, shut up and group hug already," the prefect groans, throwing their arms around their friends. Reluctant grumbles round the group, but no one makes an active effort to peel away.
“GACK!!” Grim chokes out, crushed between everyone’s chests. When their bodies recede, he collapses, vision spinning, seeing stars.
“Hahah, looks like Grim got flattened like a pancake,” Ace jeers. “Still got it in ya to waltz on stage after that?”
“C-Can it!! Of course I do!” he snaps back.
The timing is opportune. Right then, Crowley’s speech reaches them, a summons.
“… We will now begin calling up our students to receive their diplomas, starting with Ramshackle Dorm.”
“Looks like that’s our cue, Grim.”
“Let’s get goin’!!”
The prefect steps back and passes one final look to their peers. People from many different places, many different backgrounds. United at last.
“Go.”
They do.
Clutching onto their graduation cap, the prefect races up the steps from the wings. Grim bounding along by their side. Every stride equal against the other’s.
Like shooting stars, they’ve come so far. They can’t go back to where they used to be.
When they emerge from the darkness, they’re hit with bright sunshine and stage lights. Spring is in full bloom, welcoming them with balmy weather and armfuls of flowers.
The headmaster beams from behind a podium, gesturing for them to approach. In his grasp, two scrolls secured with navy ribbons.
Their diplomas.
“Presenting Grim and the Prefect, our special students sharing the spot of Valedictorian.”
Grim squeals, soaked up the adoration. He waves at the audience, flashes silly poses for the cameras. The prefect laughs, prodding him along with their hands.
“Come on, let’s not stall the ceremony for everyone else.”
“One moment.”
A smallish figure blocks their path. It’s a young man with crimson hair and heart-shaped ahoge. He holds out his hand--and the prefect, stunned, takes it.
"Riddle-senpai. You've returned."
"Prefect. Grim." He politely greets them, shaking their hands in turn. "May the Queen of Hearts and her spirit of strictness guide you as you cross this threshold in life. Remain disciplined, and I know you will both achieve even greater things."
Riddle releases, and another seizes their hands. This shake is rougher, looser.
"Congrats, you survived four years at this place," Leona purrs. He wears less of a smile and more of a bemused smirk. "Persisted, like the King of Beasts did."
His duty done, he casually drops them. Azul elegantly ducks in, his grasp firm and tone professional.
"Fufu. What an honor it is to reunite like this. Your benevolence has done much to improve our dear Night Raven College. The Sea Witch would surely extol your generosity."
"Prefect, Grim!!"
Azul steps back with a bow, making space for the next person.
Kalim practically collides with them, excitedly yanking their hands up and down as he chatters. "So good to see you again!! Gahahah, you haven't changed a bit! I bet you're much wiser now though--maybe just as mindful as the Sorcerer of the Sands was!”
Behind him, someone clears their throat. Awareness hits him and Kalim gasps, letting go of the graduates.
"It takes considerable tenacity to arrive at this milestone,” Vil says, clasping the prefect and Grim’s hands in his own. Then, he smiles ever so slightly. “… Be proud, potatoes. Your efforts have not gone unnoticed by the Beautiful Queen.”
He steps aside, allowing a gloomy, hooded figure to replace him. Idia grimaces, shielding his eyes from the lights glaring down at him.
“Tch… Dragged me out here for this,” he mutters, keeping his clammy, pale hands shoved squarely into his hoodie pockets.
A pause—and Idia managed an anxious smile. “GG or whatever. I guess even an amateur can clear hard levels if they’re diligent enough. The King of the Underworld was a noob at one point too.”
(“Is that really the most encouraging thing you could muster?” Vil tuts from the sidelines.)
With that, Idia shuffles off, joining the other ex-dorm leaders.
“Nyahahah, it feels nice to be recognized~” Grim snickers.
“Well, I certainly hope you haven’t had your fill yet.”
A frigid touch comes upon the prefect and Grim’s hands. That voice, like sudden nightfall. They find themselves staring up at a colossal shadow with leering green eyes, scales studding their forehead.
"M-Myah?!” Grim’s fur stands on end.
“Even you came, Tsunotaro!!” the prefect gasps.
“I wouldn’t miss this ceremony for the world,” Malleus smoothly reassures them. “I wished to lend my support to my dear friends and send them off with my blessing.”
He raises his arms to the open sky. Bright blue, barely a cloud in it. Sunlight pouring down, framing the ceremony in a golden spotlight.
“The Thorn Fairy’s utmost value is nobility. As you of the new generation sally forth into the world, let your souls shine as noble and true as her own.“
Uproarious applause rises, cheering and clapping combining into one frantic melody. The flowers blush, swelling large and healthy with color. The sun itself seems to brighten too, the wind lifting in a joyous, effervescent song.
“Congratulations...!!”
“Waaaah, Tsunotaro made the whole world light up!” Grim cries, eyes sparkling. “Heheh, okay, that’s a pretty good one—but watch out cuz one day I’ll be one of the top 5 strongest, most charismatic mages too!”
“Fufufu. I look forward to that day.”
Malleus bends down, his lips puling back to reveal luminous teeth.
“May you never be apart,” he whispers, so quiet that no one hears. Then, more loudly, “Congratulations. I wish you all a happily ever after.”
“I dunno what you’re goin’ on about, but thanks for hypin’ us up!!” Grim grins from ear to ear. “Today’s definitely… the best day ever!”
“I’m glad of it.”
And may it remain that way, forevermore.
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evilcokito · 20 days
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"Dracula reminds Crowley."
Everything that followed was taking shape and collapsing at the same time.
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bhpop · 20 days
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This art is old but Spider-Yuu is fun to draw and it's a little reference to atsv lol.
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simplyreveries · 2 months
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I noticed that you opened the requests. I wanted to ask related to staff (separated) with mc/yuu who had daddy issues in their world and who sees them as a father figure
i love this sm,,,, TY<3
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dire crowley
he is…. interesting- he does mean well but he just does a poor job executing that sometimes. he was never expecting to feel such a sense of protectiveness and being overly doting to you. it started when he couldn't help but feel pity for your own situation and watching you adjust to this world is tough.
you’ll find him randomly popping up out of nowhere in school and he’ll ask how you’re doing. a way as a check up on how you’re handling this world and school life so far, he’d tell you if you ask him. as soon as you ask him about home… "oh! is someone is calling me?" and just literally disappears.
In this case, I feel like his reluctance to figure out a way to bring you home stems from the fact that he really does care for you and doesn't want to lose that. so, let's just say, it'll take him awhile to figure that out. crowley seems to be trying to convince you how amazing, twisted wonderland really is! you could thrive and live so happily here! (minus the overblots… terrifying magic… creatures and more) he tells you how great it is for you already have a home, a whole dorm for yourself, as he’d say: “for i am so gracious!” that he’s done such a generous thing for you.
the first time you tried to give him a hug as thanks for something he was completely confused and didn't know how to react. he laughed and gave you the awkward pat on the back but once again, he means well i promise.
divus crewel
you have blatant favoritism from him… he seems a little less strict with you and if a student asks he’ll deny and tell them he doesn't do that or that he has to be since you’re not even from this world. he wouldn't expect you to know how to do certain things after all.
but still, ace and grim could groan because they got in trouble for forgetting homework or assignments but if you did he’d sigh and be like “bring it in tomorrow” and they are always so UPSET. it's also rare to get some compliments from him, but he seems to point out something well you did and give you a little “good improvement” and such. It's so obvious how he seems to care for you.
divus is literally the epitome of judgment when it comes to anyone having eyes for you or you tell him about even liking someone yourself… he is too protective and feels like any boy at this school is undeserving of you. he sees any attempt during class of one of them flirting or anything as them simply bothering you. If you mention someone like floyd he’d give you the most concerned look and be like “oh… him, how troublesome”. he doesn't really say what he thinks, unless you really ask for his opinion. he more so listens to you talk and he does genuinely try to give you some advice, even if it's a bit blunt.
mozus trein
now despite his strict and sternness, he can be a very calming person to be around and talk to. he will be pretty quiet, but he can become someone you just find if you need to talk as he listens and grades assignments, doing some work. if you really need to take your mind of certain worries and stresses, like finding a way back to your world- he'll offer you some tea and maybe even offer to play a game of chess with you (as he does with divus sometimes!)
trein is a father himself, he was very close to his daughters- so it actually is quite easy for him out of all of the staff members to develop a familial like relationship with. he enjoys having that feeling of looking after someone again and being someone, you could look up to in that sense. he would eventually notice that you do see him in such a way, he wouldn't say it, but it does warm his heart.
he'll let you play and pet lucius, it's just part of your special privileges. surprisingly, the cat likes you and always tries rubbing against you. since trein trusts you though, you will be given the duty to buy lucius cat toys from sams shop with money he gives you, he says its "in compensation" haha.
if you happen to be causing trouble with grim or some student in class, he'll scold you. but through it, he will remind and tell you he knows you're a good kid and doesn't want other bothersome students tarnishing your potential.
ashton vargas
oh poor you if you dread fitness or sports because he's always booming so loud, excited and pumped to get you involved more. even if you don't want to do something with others, he loves initiating one on one games with you and challenging you. he will not go easy though and laughs proudly whenever he wins. he'll still pat you on the back and tell you "nice job, kid!" or something of that sort. he's very supportive even if hes overly competitive at times.
sometimes you do have to hear his tangents on how he became so fit and strong... especially his "advice" on how great it is to consume raw eggs... this guy . he tries telling you it'd benefit you.
lowkey makes a big deal if you got hurt and needed to go to the infirmary. he always tries to keep a special eye on you in case and tries his absolute best to make sure you're alright. even after getting help, you needed from the nurse, still!!
sam
he tends to keep a watchful eye on you... he would much prefer and even offer, saying you'd be perfect to be working beside him at his shop. he wouldn't want you resorting or going somewhere like the mostro lounge really. but other than that, he is a very carefree guy who you could easily find yourself talking to about problems or issues you're having. his attitude and approach to things can be a good help.
also, if you're in general in need of something from his store, because you're extra special to him he'll sometimes just give you heavily discounted or even be like take it, ("it wasn't selling anyways"). hehe. he cares. especially when it comes to like snacks or food he'll have, he'll claim it's your "employee benefits!" if you're working there.
sam is pretty much in the loop with anything interesting happening at school or things he may have overheard from students. you can easily get gossip out of him, just saying. but sometimes that just turns him into trying to discreetly warn you about certain students at nrc.
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angelltheninth · 10 days
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11. "Hmm, you're not very patient, are you?" Dire Crowley 🙏🙏🙏🙏
Not many request Crowley. Good taste.
Pairing: Dire Crowley x Fem!Reader
Tags: nsfw, smut, power imbalance, masturbation, being watched, taking orders, clit stimulation, begging to come, cane use
A/N: This man is so fine, shame he's underrated.
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11. "Hmm, you're not very patient, are you?"
There was a deal, an understanding between you and Crowley. When he called you were there, no matter the time of day or night. And whenever you needed a fake boyfriend to drag around he'd be there, being the picture of a perfect gentleman. It was a give and take. Mutual. Just... he liked to be a real asshole about his part of the deal.
Crowley smirked and turned his chin up at you from his lavish chair, "Hmm, you're not very patient, are you?" His gloved hands grabbed both of your wrists and pushed them up above your head, exposing your dripping cunt. "Typical. As soon as I get you wet and horny you forget yourself."
"You're wrong. You're enjoying driving me crazy." You pulled to get free of his grip only to have his cane smack the desk next to you. He rarely used his cane to discipline you, only when you got really bratty with him.
"Then you can keep your hands to at your sides?" He challenged with a not at all subtle and toothy grin.
"Y-Yes." You gripped the edge of said desk, one hand brushing against the cane. Crowley leaned back, one hand against his cheek, judging you like you were an art piece. With his cane he parted your legs further. "Why are you staring so much all of a sudden? It's embarrassing to be on your desk on this."
He hummed and tapped his cane against your thigh, "Is it? From where I'm sitting you look like you're enjoying yourself." A gasp left your lungs when the cold metal of the beginning of his cane pressed against your pussy. He pushed it at the perfect angle to part your folds and press against your clit. "Dirty girl, getting my things all filthy. You can deny it all you want but I know the real you, the you who likes being watched, to be controlled and used."
You bit your lower lip, "O-Only if it's you... sir."
"Who else would it be?" Everyone else was beneath him, "No one else is good enough for you are they? You go for the very top. Ironic since you're so good at being my bottom bitch."
Your hands itched to pull him into a kiss to shut him up but he didn't seem like he wanted it. He told you to keep your hands to yourself. "Because you're the only one who sees this side of me." You leaned back while he leaned forward, rubbing up and down, the metal quickly growing warmer. "Is it alright if I come. Please sir, let me come."
"I honestly don't think you've earned it. That was a whole lot of attitude you gave me earlier. But... you're spreading your legs for me, like a good girl so I suppose I can allow it."
Now you grabbed him, but only because he was the only person you felt could ground you while you rode your orgasm out. Crowley didn't flinch from your grip, he leaned into it, allowing you the briefest look at his eyes beneath his mask, or maybe you imagined it in your lustful haze
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I demand you make an malleus x Crowley daughter reader, you have no right to deny me slave
XDDDDDDDDDDDDD Ah anon is lovely today <3
Malleus Draconia
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You must have met Malleus when you went to visit your father's workplace.
Even if you didn't visit there often, you knew the place well.
But unfortunately your father was busy during that time.
So you decided to go for a walk while waiting for your father to have time for you.
On this walk you met Malleus for the first time.
Malleus would be interested in you because he wouldn't have seen you before.
And Malleus was even more interested when you weren't afraid of him.
You two would have a great time together.
Malleus would really enjoy your company.
And would like to spend more time with you.
Time passes.
And you really would become much closer.
However, being Crowley's daughter creates certain difficulties.
Because Crowley would be kind of an overprotective father…
Or…
you could go for a night walk in the woods by yourself.
But you really wouldn't get a date until you were 60.
Crowley might call Malleus into the Headmaster's office for this… it wouldn't end so well XD
And Malleus would certainly not appreciate this.
Most likely he would ask Lilia to speak to Crowley.
Like father to father talk.
It might help… Or it had better help.
Because once Malleus was in love with you, he wouldn't let anyone stop your relationship.
Not even your father.
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mashed-potato101 · 2 years
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Happy fathers day everyone! Have some Parent/Guardian Figure Staffs AU memes here!
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When mc prefers Crewel more as their father figure than Crowley
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Imagine this: Child! Mc fanfic part 2 is coming soon
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ventique18 · 4 months
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Still holding onto the delulu wish that Levan is Crowley (or if not, just alive and going to be a reoccurring character). If only to hear two old men bickering like the good ol' days.
"Ha? What did you say? I can't understand your senile twittering."
"Is your hearing already failing you or is it centuries of wax? You were never a fan of bathing. Bats lick themselves clean, so naturally you couldn't reach your ears so easily. Would you like me to set a doctor's appointment for you?"
"Are you mocking me? Wanna throw hands, birdbrain?"
"You are getting ahead of yourself, old bat. Have you forgotten I've won our matches 3601 to 3600? I would gladly put you back into your place if you so wish."
"Ha? You really are going senile! I clearly remember that last match was my complete victory!"
"I believe it would be best if we settled it now!"
Then when they both raise their wands, they double over and groan in pain because why are their lower backs and shoulder blades hurting now, of all times?!
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dilatorywriting · 1 year
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Heroes vs. Villains : The Staff [Part 2]
Platonic GN!Reader x NRC Staff vs. RSA Staff Word Count: 3.1k
Summary: Woe to the Ramshackle Prefect, being caught up in the drama between the Disney Villains and their respective heroes. NRC Staff Version (Part 2: Crewel and Crowley)
ie. Mr. Rogerson has awesome dalmatians and his wife makes even better cookies. Meanwhile, Crewel continues to be an emotionally constipated mess, and Crowley is... himself.
[PART 1] [PART 2] [PART 3] [PART 4]
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You were met at the door by a pair of over enthusiastic dalmatians—the chaotically cute duo sending you ass-first to the office floor in a merry greeting that was more of a graceless tackle than anything else.
“You brought Poe and Perdy!” you exclaimed, laughing past the face kisses.
“Well, they’d never forgive me if I didn’t,” Mister Rogerson huffed good naturedly. “Do you know how much this little nutter cried when I came home the other day and he realized you’d been by? Ages, I’m telling you. Thought he was going to pout me into an early grave.”
You squished both of them affectionately and showered the lovely, spotted, beasts with every compliment under the sun.
“Oh! Before I forget…” the professor rustled around in his leather messenger bag and retrieved a neatly packaged pastry box all bundled up in a colorful, twine, bow. You accepted the treats happily and removed yourself from the dog-pile to take your usual place on the well-worn piano bench. “Annie made you some more cookies, seeing as you liked the last ones so much.”
“Did you help?” you asked.
“Hmm? What makes you say that?”
You held up the first treat from the pile—half-singed on one side and squishy with raw dough on the other.
“You caught me!” he laughed, and retrieved a second box. “These are from Annie. Those are my failures.”
“Such horrible lies,” you tutted, dramatic. “Trying to trick an innocent victim into ingesting poison just so that you can keep all the good ones for yourself.”
“Hey, they’re not that bad!” he defended, taking a large chomp out of one of the less charred looking of his creations. Immediately his cheeks went nearly green. “Or… maybe they are.”
You pushed a water bottle in his direction which he accepted gratefully. There was always a stash of them just to the left of his composer’s stand, and another hoard in a conspicuous looking storage cube closer to the piano at which you’d perched yourself. There were more sweets hidden in his desk drawers too, for when something stronger than water was needed to wash away whatever awful thing he’d tried to ingest. You knew where a lot of ‘secret’ things were in this room. It felt nice, to be so privy to all its little treasures.
“You know,” he smiled, finishing the last of his water with a final gulp. “Annie keeps pestering me to have you come by for dinner.”
“I wouldn’t want to impose,” you hesitated, looking around the room where so many of your little odds and ends had already started to accumulate. Empty mugs, the patch that had fallen off your jacket, the thread which you’d intended to use to fix said patch. Just… little footprints showing you’d been by.  “Well, any more at least.”
“Nonsense,” Mister Rogerson laughed. “You’re more than welcome! But we don’t mean to pressure you, of course! Especially if you’re busy! Just something to think about if you’d like. Anyways, how has your day been?”
And thus began your afternoon ritual. You would sit and split Annie’s delicious cookies as you rambled about your various grievances. Mister Rogerson would inevitably come and take a seat beside you on the piano bench and start playing some gentle strains of this or that—‘just little things he was working on,’ he’d said. Occasionally you’d accidentally lean on the keys, throwing the whole thing into a cacophonous mess. But he would just chuckle and replay whatever the piano had just screeched, calling it a ‘fascinating addition’ and merrily jotting bits of it into his notes. It was nice. Better than nice. And you didn’t realize just how comfortable you’d become in your daily chitchats until you’d become perhaps a bit too comfortable.
“It’s just been so exhausting. And on top of all the other ridiculous things, I’m so sick of that fact that it’s like my job to be their personal punching bags or whatever when they’re Overblotting all over the place, and—”
The piano cut off abruptly.
Mister Rogerson’s hazel eyes had gone wide, as if he was spooked. Immediately you realized that you’d said something that you should not have.
“There are students at Night Raven College who have Overblotted?” he asked, slow, like he couldn’t even believe the words were coming out of his mouth.
“What? No. Of course not!” you lied, like a liar.
“Kiddo,” he frowned, stern. “You just said—"
“—I mean, no one’s actually Overblotted, Overblotted,” you spluttered hastily, rifling frantically through your brain for every plausible excuse you could cough up. “It’s more that I’ve heard a lot about Blot, and how it becomes a—you know—Overblot. Which sounds really scary, and like something that I never, ever, want to actually see! And it’s just that everyone there is a mess, so I guess I should I have said that I’m more just worried about Overblotting.” 
A pause.
“Which, again, I’ve never, ever, actually seen.”
More silence.
“…Ever.”
Mister Rogerson sighed, apparently relieved by your bullshitting, and slumped forward over the piano keys.
“That’s… That’s good. You really scared me there for a moment, kiddo. Overblots are no small matter. They have to be reported to the proper authorities and dealt with accordingly. It’s a whole fiasco, and paperwork and legal proceedings aside, it’s dangerous.” He laid a gentle hand across your shoulder. “I’m just glad you haven’t been anywhere near something like that.”
You swallowed a chunk of wayward cookie, hoping you didn’t look horrifically guilty. But then some other part of what he’d just rattled off stuck in your head and that shame was wiped away by panic.
“They’d be taken away?” you whispered, something unpleasant and nervous curling in your gut.
Mister Rogerson looked down at you with a sympathetic wrinkle to his brow. He squeezed your shoulder reassuringly.
“I know it sounds scary, kiddo. But that’s what we have to do to keep everyone as safe as we can. Does that make sense?”
You thought of Riddle, crying into his hands after years of emotional neglect—and then of the pair of you sitting in the Heartslabyul gardens after all was said and done, eating strawberry tarts with your fingers like little children. You thought of Leona, miserable and bitter as he was, finally breaking after an entire lifetime of feeling like nothing but a failure who slunk about in his brother’s shadow—and then how just last week the beastman had been lounging in the sun with his head in your lap, grouchily demanding your leftovers. You thought of Azul, and his bullies, and his stupid desire to take on the world just to prove he could. You thought of all the friends you’d made, and of just how many of them really needed a goddamn therapist. You thought about them being taken away to who-even-knew-where. Where you’d probably never see any of them again. And where you wouldn’t even know what was happening to them.
General grumpiness with the lot of them aside, your friends were the one, genuine, beacon of warmth in this miserable, cold, new world. Sure, they were all assholes. Mega assholes. But you knew that they’d stand by you through anything—do anything, if you needed the help.
 And the idea of giving up on them? Just like that? Because it was protocol?
Your stomach roiled and you set the cookies off to the side.
“I’m sorry if I’ve upset you,” Mister Rogerson frowned, taking in whatever unpleasant expression was no doubt twisting your face into knots. “We shouldn’t talk about it anymore. It’s not a fun topic.” He slid a new page of sheet music across the piano’s sleek, black, shelf. “Here. I started writing this the other day. What do you think?”
Strains of upbeat jazz threaded through the room and Perdy and Poe came over to mouth playfully at your ankles—no doubt begging for crumbs. Soon enough you were laughing along, clapping off beat and making jokes at the expense of his nonsense lyrics. You still liked Mister Rogerson. You liked him a lot. And you didn’t doubt that he was a genuinely kind person.
You’d just… maybe have to be a bit more careful about what you let slip.
.
.
“It’s kinda like being in therapy,” you explained to a very frustrated looking Deuce. “Like, how you want to say just enough to get help but not enough for them to throw you into an asylum. You feel?”
“What in the fuck are you on,” Ace gaped.
“See, if any of you actually even knew what therapy was, you’d get it.”
“I still can’t believe that’s where you’ve been every afternoon,” Deuce frowned, poking at his lunch with a consternated sort of look on his face. “Don’t you—I don’t know…”
“What?” you asked.
“Feel horrifically guilty and maybe like you should be burnt at the stake?” Ace complained, reaching over to swipe a fry from your plate. Grim hissed and swatted at his fingers—his little mouth stuffed too full of your half-eaten burger to yell much of anything else. “You’re a traitor, that’s what you are. Prancing around with those goody-two-shoes in their stupid, shiny, building every damn day like a—like a—”
“A frog?” Deuce suggested.
“What, no. Dude—”
“Frogs prance!”
“Frogs fucking jump, you ingrate—”
A heavy box landed on the table with a THUD, sending the quarrelling duo into silence. A mountain of homemade chocolate chip cookies stared back at them, nearly sparkling in their brilliance.
“Yes,” you intoned, stern. “It’s worth it.”
“It’s worth it,” Grim and Ace agreed heartily, already busy swapping their lunches for sweets.
Deuce sighed and reached for his own cookie. “If you’re sure...”
.
.
Being called into the Headmaster’s Office was not something with which you were unfamiliar. In fact, Crowley not having summoned you into his gloomy chamber over the past few weeks was more of an anomaly than not. Normally he was hurling new jobs at you left and right—organize this event, Prefect. Pick up my groceries, Prefect. The main hall is looking a little dirty, Prefect. Go stop my students from committing mass murder, Prefect. Maybe your wave of insults had rattled him enough to leave you alone for that little while. Or maybe he’d just been biding his time until he could think of something equally as nasty to say back.
Of all the things you were expecting upon trudging back into that office, a scowling Professor Crewel was not one of them.
You blinked owlishly, taken aback.
“Good afternoon, Professor.”
His lip curled, sour, and you fought the intense and suicidal urge to ask him just who’d pissed in his cornflakes that morning because damn. You hadn’t even done anything. That you could remember. Maybe. And besides, if either of you had any right to be acting all bitter and pissy it was you. Not Mister ‘I Have No Intention of Playing Parent to Anyone.’ The memory had your eyes stinging and your blood boiling all over again. When neither of the men deigned to greet you, you cleared you throat irritably and crossed your arms.
“Can I help you with something, Professor? Headmaster?”
“It has come to our attention that you’ve been sneaking off campus in the evenings,” Professor Crewel declared, with all the civility of an off-grid hermit. “Which I’m certain that you are fully aware is against school policy.”
Crowley just nodded, stiff lipped and robotic, and his silence immediately had you suspicious.
“Well?” Crewel snipped. “What do you have to say for yourself?”
You took a deep breath in through your nose and out through your mouth. Then another.
You smiled, icy. “Then I’m sure this is just another infraction to add to my file. Which I’m very sure totally exists. Right, Headmaster?”
Crewel’s dark glower swiveled in Crowley’s direction, and you watched the Old Crow audibly gulp.
“Because of course, you keep proper records on all your students here,” you continued, happy to push your luck. “Especially the ones in special circumstances, and whose documentation is therefore not automatically forwarded to you by their previous schools. Right, Headmaster?”
You’d never seen a more apt demonstration of the expression ‘sweating bullets.’ It was intensely satisfying. Professor Crewel looked like he was heavily debating turning Crowley into a feather boa. After a too-long moment where you were pretty sure you were about to witness a murder, the two-toned professor sighed and turned back to you with a stiff sneer.
“It’s not safe,” he said, and you gaped at him.
“What?”
“It’s not safe,” he repeated, practically grinding his teeth. “What were you even thinking? Leaving Night Raven when you know full that you have no other connections in this entire world! Running off with a complete stranger on top of that.”
“Mister Rogerson isn’t a stranger!” you defended, resentment bubbling beneath your skin. How dare he? Now he cared? Now you weren’t just a leech, or a brat, or—or—No. It wasn’t fair. “And it’s not like I ran off into the woods or something! I’m at another school!”
Crowley slammed his clawed hands down onto his desk with a metallic BANG!
“AH-HAH! YOU ADMIT IT!” he howled. “YOU’VE BEEN GOING TO THE ROYAL SWORD ACADEMY BEHIND OUR BACKS!”
“I left you a note telling you that was exactly where I was!”
“YOU’VE BEEN CONSORTING WITH OUR ENEMY! AND AFTER I’VE WORKED SO HARD TO RAISE YOU AS MY OWN!” He wailed, inconsolable. “ARE YOU TRADING OFF MY GRIMOIRE TO AMBROSE, TOO? WOULD YOU STOP AT NOTHING TO SHATTER MY POOR HEART?!”
“I don’t even know what that means, but I wish I was!”
“Enough!” Crewel snarled, cracking his pointer across the desktop. “Both of you!”
“But he—!” you defended.
“Detention!” he barked.
“What?! That’s no fair!—”
“Detention!” he snapped again. “Three weeks!”
“Are you joking?! I didn’t even do anything!—”
“Four weeks,” he growled.
You pressed your lips shut, feeling your mouth wobble and your eyes warm with frustrated tears.
“Yes, sir,” you finally managed to grit out, and then turned without another word and stormed from the room, slamming the door behind you.
.
.
.
‘That may have been too much,’ Crowley had the gall to say to him, after Crewel had just watched the man have an entire meltdown in his desk chair and accuse you of outright subterfuge.
‘That may have been too much.’
The alchemist had watched, carefully stone faced, as your eyes had welled and you’d glared him down with a look that was a step or two past betrayed. Something tightened uncomfortably in his chest, and he refused to put a name to it. Naming things gave them power, allowed them to grow and spread. Like a tumor. This was all your own doing, and the subsequent punishment was clearly for your own good. So, what? He steps a bit too far and says something that’s perhaps just a bit too cold, and you go running off to—to Cliff Rogerson of all people? Pettiness is not an excuse for making poor, stupid, unsafe, decisions. And he would have certainly responded to any other student in exactly the same fashion.
‘That may have been too much.’
Crewel grit his teeth and fought the urge to run his hands through his hair in frustration. Normally he could use Badun as a stress ball, but he’d stopped bringing the dogs to campus when you’d continued to refuse to show up to his office. It had stressed them terribly, and it was unfair to force them to sit through the same, dull, solitude that he had to endure just on the off chance that you may change your mind and come wandering in. Jasper hardly acknowledged him at all anymore—only grumbled at him miserably when he returned in the evenings before curling up by the fireplace for the rest of the night.   
‘That may have been too much.’
It… It really, probably, was. And he really should… apologize, shouldn’t he?
Divus Crewel could deny it all he liked, but he knew well and good that he wouldn’t have treated your classmates in such a manner. That unnamed twinge behind his ribs may have influenced his reaction a bit more than it should have, especially when he himself had so clearly relegated your place in his life to ‘by professional association only.’
So he forced himself to straighten his fur coat and start the trek to Ramshackle. It was a grueling walk, with broken pathways and rivers of mud. No wonder you were always running late to things. Perhaps he should bring this up to Crowley, and—
A familiar face stopped him in his tracks, and a wave of red-hot irritation worked its way through his veins as efficiently and viciously as one of the poisons he was so keen to brew.
“Oh,” Cliff Rogerson blinked back at him, “Divus! Good to see you.” It was not. It didn’t sound like Cliff thought it was either.“No need to call campus security or anything. I’m just here to pick up the Prefect for dinner.”
“Dinner?” Crewel repeated. It sounded bitter in his mouth.
“Annie’s making lasagna,” Cliff stage-whispered, like a secret.
“Can we get going?” you called and Crewel startled, noticing you off to the side for the first time. You looked so… small, for some reason. Hunched, maybe. Just, not your usual larger-than-life self—the Otherworldly Hero who showed up swinging to every fight, always armed to the teeth and ready to duel any monster, every horror. It made something in his gut twist unpleasantly. “I’m starving.”
“Of course, kiddo,” Cliff laughed and tossed an arm across your shoulders.
“How lovely,” Crewel interrupted, trying and failing to force the steel from his voice, “But I think that maybe you should reexamine your professional priorities. That hardly seems appropriate.”
“Oh, come now,” Cliff smiled. It wasn’t friendly. “It’s only dinner. And besides,” he chuckled, and gave your arm a fond squeeze, “Annie and I have always wanted kids.”
‘I have no intention of playing parent to anyone.’
A deep, cold, sort of dread rattled through Divus Crewel’s bones and settled all the way in the pit of his stomach. It was similar to the sensation that had been slowly clawing its way through him these past few weeks—the very same unpleasantness that he had refused to name.
‘You know,’ Crowley’s grating voice swam through his head once more. ‘That really may have been too much.’
.
.
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