His Favorite Plaything~ (Crowley x Reader)

Chapter 14: Sobriety

   A few days, weeks, or maybe even months pass by, the day that Crowley and I kissed getting further and further away (it's difficult to judge how much time has passed in Hell, so I don't bother trying. There's no sense in it).

   Part of my brain wants a repeat of what happened that day where I smooched the King of Hell, but Crowley and I haven't talked about it since it happened. I wanna bring it up, but am afraid that he'll insult me, since he's becoming more like his old self with each passing second (with my help, of course).

   So, I feel it's better to just leave it be. I'll forget it eventually, and if he brings it up, then great.

   The dominant part of Crowley's personality is showing itself again, and because of the kiss, I'm seeing it in a whole new light. Rather than it being annoying, I find it to be attractive.

   I try to stop myself from seeing it as such, since if I find the idea of me being his little doll attractive, he can manipulate me into doing whatever he wants. But no matter how much I try to convince myself that it's annoying and gross, my real feelings on the matter always break through the wall I've built around myself.

I still haven't let Crowley leave yet, but he's very close to being able to resume his normal activities. But he seems content enough with this arrangement. He may have a case of cabin fever, but the worst has already passed. The worst was at the height of his withdrawal when he was curled up on his couch, binging Netflix, shivering, and begging me to let him indulge one final time.

   It's strange how he listened to me and stayed put when I told him no, though. He's the King of Hell! Why would he listen someone like me? A mere commoner is what I am, and he's royalty down here.

Right now, I'm chilling on Crowley's bed, drawing in a sketchbook with a pencil. He gave me both with a simple snap of his fingers. That was back when he was still tainted by humanity, so I'm making the most of this sketchbook, because who knows when I'll get another one. He told me to do something because he had to fill out some contracts and didn't wanna be distracted, so of course I opted to drawing.

My eyebrows furrow in concentration as I add the finishing touches on my drawing. Yeah, the drawing's of Crowley, but who cares? He's the only thing that's worth drawing down here.

Once I'm done, I scan my work. A small smile crosses my face. It looks good. I feel it captures Crowley's beauty pretty well.

Beauty? I shake my head to myself, not wanting to think of him in that light, even though I have countless times already.

"What're you drawing?"

My head snaps in the direction of the oh-so-familiar voice, heat rushing to my face.

Crowley's leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. A smirk surfaces on his lips as he sees my nervous expression.

There's the Crowley that I know.

He begins to walk over to me, attempting to peek at the drawing.

I immediately slam the book shut, holding it close to me. "Nothing," I respond curtly.

"Come on, let me see," Crowley says, chuckling. He holds his hands out, a silent way of asking for the book.

I shake my head, holding the book closer to me. "God, you remind me of those kids at school who would breathe down my neck whenever I wanted to sketch something," I mumble. "No." That word comes out clearer.

Crowley huffs. "That's a shame." He then waves his hand, and the book comes flying out of my hands and into his.

He smirks at my expression, which is a mixture of bewilderment and annoyance. "Sorry, kitten, but I take what I want. I don't exactly need your permission," he says.