#crewel

Later, he knocked on Ramshackle’s door himself.

Yuu answered, surprised. “Headmage?”

He took off his mask.

“May I come in?”

They blinked.

Crowley never took off his mask.

Never.

Crowley stood in the entryway.

“I hear you’ve been struggling. And before you say anything—I’m not here as your headmage.”

He placed the mask gently on a dusty table.

“I’m here as someone who once felt like a ghost too.”

Yuu swallowed hard.

“I know it’s hard, adjusting to this place,” he continued. “You’ve had to survive here without magic, without family, without answers. And you’ve done it all without a safety net.”

His voice wavered.

“Perhaps I should’ve given you one sooner.”

Yuu stared at him. Crowley’s eyes, usually behind his mask, were steady.

“Can I show you something?” he asked.

He led them to a storage room near the staff quarters. There, behind old uniforms and spell books, was a small chest. He opened it.

Inside were journals.

Dozens of them, worn at the edges.

“I wrote these when I was your age. A long, long, long.... long time ago.” he said quietly.

“When I didn’t understand the world, or my place in it. When I thought maybe… the world would be better off without me.”

Yuu’s breath caught.

“You’re not weak for needing help,” he said, turning to them. “You’re wise for accepting it.”

From then on, when he saw them anxious in a hallway, he didn’t sweep them away with flair.

He’d tap their shoulder, whisper, “There’s tea in my office. Let’s get some air.”

And on days when Yuu couldn’t speak at all, Crowley would sit beside them in silence. No mask. Just himself.

In time, Yuu came to understand that even the loudest voices sometimes scream just to be heard.

And Crowley?

He’d make sure Yuu never had to scream alone again.

It started with a quiet knock on the side door of Mystery Shop one evening after lights-out.

“Hey, little imp,” he said without turning around“Didn’t expect you tonight.”

But when Yuu stepped inside, their energy wasn’t curious about the items. It was heavy.

Sam finally looked over, smile fading as he saw their eyes red rimmed, hands tucked in their sleeves.

“Something happened?”

“I relapsed.”

Sam didn’t recoil, didn’t gasp.

He just set down the crystal orb he’d been polishing and stepped out from behind the counter.

“Come sit,” he said gently, guiding them to the little seating nook near the incense shelf. “Tell me what you need.”

“I don’t know,” Yuu whispered. “I just—Grim told the others, and everyone’s being kind, but I feel like I’m broken again. Like I failed.”

Sam reached over and pulled a tiny wooden box from a shelf behind him.

“Know what this is?” he asked, resting it in their lap.

Yuu shook their head.

“This box came from a spirit walker in the Scalding Sands. It’s over four hundred years old,” Sam explained. “Used to carry healing charms, notes of love, little promises folks made to themselves when they were hurting.”

He opened it slowly.

Inside were slips of folded paper—some new, some brittle with age.

Sam added one more—his own. He held it out to Yuu.

“Write one. Anything you want. Doesn’t have to be big. Could be: ‘I want to breathe tomorrow.’ Or: ‘I want to see the sun.’”

Yuu stared, then shakily took the pen.

After a long pause, they wrote:

“I want to believe I’ll be okay again.”

Sam tucked it inside the box, sealed it, and whispered, “Now it’s kept safe. No refunds, no backsies. That promise is real now.”

Yuu smiled weakly.

From that night forward, Sam always had a space open at the back of the shop.

If Yuu was overwhelmed in class, they’d sometimes find a handmade “delivery” waiting in their dorm room: a spell charm for calm dreams, a candle, or a simple note that read:

“Healing ain’t linear. But I’ve seen how stubborn you are. You’ll get there.”

Professor Trein stood at the front, chalk still in hand, yet his eyes had wandered from the blackboard.

He watched Yuu—slumped at their desk, shoulders taut, eyes unfocused. Not bored. Not distracted. Disassociated.

Lucius had already leapt from his desk perch and was weaving around Yuu’s chair. Trein set the chalk down.

“Yuu,” he said calmly, “Could you assist me in the archive room for a moment?”

There was no reason to doubt the request. It was casual enough.

No alarm in his tone. No heads turned. Yuu nodded numbly, rising without protest as the class barely took notice.

Trein’s pace was slow as he led them to a quiet hall—far from noise.

He closed the door behind them.

“Would you like to sit?” he offered, pulling out a chair from a reading desk.

Yuu did. But their gaze remained lowered.

Trein sat across from them, hands folded.

“There are lessons one cannot find in any curriculum,” he began, “Lessons about how to exist in a world that often refuses to make space for our pain.”

Silence.

“You don’t need to speak right away. I only ask that you listen.”

Yuu nodded once—just enough to let him know they were still with him.

“I’ve seen the signs,” he said. “The trembling. The vacant stares. The way your hands fidget when you believe no one is watching.”

“I want you to know I do not pity you. Pity can be shallow and cruel. What I feel is respect.”

Yuu looked up, confused.

“It takes strength to face each day knowing you’re at war with your own thoughts. It takes courage to survive when the world you knew has been torn from you and replaced with a place that doesn’t always feel real.”

Trein continued, “Grim came to me out of concern. And I assure you, Yuu… there is no shame in stumbling during recovery. Only in believing you must do it alone.”

Lucius jumped into Yuu’s lap then, curling up. Yuu slowly let a hand drift to stroke his back.

Trein gave a faint smile.

“Even Lucius knows who needs grounding.”

He then reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a bound notebook—aged but blank.

“This is for you. Write what hurts. What confuses you. Or write nothing at all. You may tear out the pages, burn them, or never show a soul. But sometimes, the mind cannot quiet until its burdens are given a place to rest.”

Yuu took it gently.

Down the road, Trein never hovered. But he always noticed.

If Yuu’s answers in class were shorter than usual, he’d adjust the lesson pace. If he saw their breathing stutter when voices around grew loud, he’d assign a solo reading task and lead the others elsewhere—shielding them with normalcy.

“Oi! You’re not gettin’ out of PE that easy!”

Yuu had hoped to sneak past the training field.

But Vargas spotted them with that hawk gaze of his and jogged over, waving enthusiastically.

They braced for a lecture about attendance, but he paused as he got closer.

“You okay?” he asked—less gruffly than usual.

Yuu tried to shrug it off, but Vargas tilted his head.

“I know I ain’t always the most gentle guy. But I do notice when one of my students looks like they’re carryin’ a boulder on their back.”

He crossed his arms.

“You wanna go for a walk?”

Yuu blinked. “You’re not gonna make me run laps?”

“Nope. Today we walk. Slowly. No sweat.”

So they did—around the track, where Vargas usually shouted drills.

His voice was calm, explaining how, even in physical training, injuries sometimes come from inside.

“Used to have a friend back in my rookie days,” he said. “Tough guy. Strong as hell. But he had demons in his head that none of us could see.”

He glanced at Yuu.

“Pain ain’t just broken bones and bruises. You can be fightin’ for your life, and no one will know unless they look close enough.”

Yuu swallowed. “I didn’t want to disappoint anyone.”

“You didn’t,” Vargas said, dead serious. “You’re still standin’. You showed up today. That takes guts.”

They stopped near the bleachers, and Vargas handed them something—a pair of weight gloves.

“These are yours now, not for lifting. Not for workouts. Just a reminder. You’re stronger than you think.”

From then on, Vargas kept an eye on them.

So he watched. He watched as those friends of yours extorted you when you were at your wits end with Grim, he watched you struggling with Grim. He watched you in the second-hand uniform with hastily stitched repairs that was at least a size too big and getting bigger on you as you were not being provided with enough money to feed yourself and Grim AND repair your dorm. He watched as you tried to make Ramshackle habitable, and he watched as you over-extended yourself to put an end to Riddle Rosehearts and Leona Kingscholar's overblots. And when he watched you in the nurse's office just laughing off your injuries the day of the Spelldrive tournament, Crewel decided he was done watching.

It started small at first. He'd discussed with Trein about what subjects you were struggling in, not surprised to hear they were all magic based subjects, then held you back after class to offer to tutor you in those subjects under the guise of wanting all his pups to succeed. Which he did, of course. You agreed to the after school tutoring, which Grim very loudly refused to attend. Every other day after school, you met up with Crewel his classroom to tackle some subject or other more in depth while he graded assignments, and before you left, he would hand you a large container with food in it.

"This is cutting into your dinner time, is it not?" He explained when you asked about it. "I'm not a monster, I wouldn't expect you to go without eating all night."

"You don't have to go out of your way, Professor." You sighed, too hungry to deny the free food.

"Hardly. It's leftovers from last night," a lie, but you didn't need to know that, "I won't miss them."

Crewel caught you back up in your subjects fairly quickly, you were a diligent student. As the days went on, he watched some life return to your face until he could no longer find that ravenous look deep behind your eyes. He started setting a portion of his salary aside and bringing it to Sam, telling him to keep it for when you came by to purchase anything, giving him a little extra to not tell you where it was coming from. He felt a little swell of pride in his chest when he heard you bragging to Ace and Deuce about your grocery run being paid for. He was comfortable with this, happy enough not watching you wasting away and seeing you beginning to thrive in this school. He knew you could hold your own after handling two overblots, so he knew you could handle yourself against the Octavinelle trio when they came for your dorm. And of course you did. He felt that swell of pride again, stronger than he felt for his other students. Then again, his other students didn't have to fight nearly as hard as you did. Before he left for the winter break, he left a parcel on your doorstep that contained a thick pair of gloves, a fur lined hat, a cashmere scarf, and an old brown fur jacket of his. He worried it may not fit, but he refused to leave you to freeze while he was gone. He left a note in the box on top of the items.

"A small reward for your hard work this semester. Enjoy your holiday, you earned it. D. Crewel"

When he came back from the winter break, he was disappointed to find your school uniform in worse condition than when he left, a jacket sleeve hanging on for dear life, poorly patched holes in the knees, one of your shoes peeling away from the soles. He refused to let that go on any longer than it needed to, bringing you to Sam's himself to get you fitted for a new uniform. When you tried to insist that you could pay, Crewel insisted that it wasn't necessary, citing that he couldn't have any of his pups looking less than their best for the upcoming culture fair. When you tried to bring up the winter clothing he'd left you, he brushed off your thanks with a wave of his hand.

"We can find something more suitable to your style before your next winter." He insisted as he gently adjusted your tie. "I couldn't have one of my best freshmen freezing to death while I was gone, could I?"

Despite being caught up to the other students in your subjects, you still came by after class, more often to gossip over whatever meal Crewel had brought with him than to study. You told him about what happened over the winter break, and how the Octavinelle trio actually ended up helping you out. You told him about Ace and Deuce showing up after everything had been resolved, how they got there by train and boat and foot because they had been so worried about you. You kept him up to date about how your dorm, finally at least clean and presentable, had been offered up for the SDC group headquarters. He occasionally had gossip for you, making you swear not to spread anything around before he would tell you anything. It was usually student gossip that was being spread around anyways, some spat in Savanaclaw, an Ignihyde student locking down a portion of the school website to blast photos of another student doing something embarrassing, and so on. He wouldn't admit it to a soul in the world, not even you, but you were swiftly becoming his favorite. Remarkable grades for someone who didn't even know the Great Seven at the beginning of the school year, the admirable bravery and kindness it took to stop five overblots in their tracks, you were impressive. That feeling of pride in his chest eventually never left.

When the Ferrymen came to remove students and take them to Styx, when he heard two of his students were injured, he sprinted down to the nurses office, feeling a bit shameful in the amount of relief he felt that you were not in one of the beds. When you did show up to check on your friends, he patched up the few scrapes you did have and insisted you didn't do anything rash. He knew how much you'd grown to care for Grim, but you had to leave this to the faculty. He was already boiling with rage at the injuries Ace and Deuce had sustained, if Crowley wouldn't handle this, he'd figure out a way to handle it himself. He should've realized that would be your mindset as well. He was furious when he heard you'd gone off with Rook and Epel to find everyone that had been taken, but more than that, he was afraid. He was afraid you wouldn't come back, and all he could do was wait and watch. When you did eventually come back, Crewel had an entire lecture planned for you, explaining how reckless and irresponsible it was to go running off with Rook and Epel to find Styx like that, how you could've been injured or worse, how he expected better from you. You took it like a champ, fully expecting the lecture before you even went after Rook in the first place. But you were safe, everyone was safe, that's all that mattered to you. You could sit through one lecture. When Crewel finally ran out of steam, he stepped forward and put his hands on your shoulders, getting you to look back up at him.

"I'm glad you're safe, pup, but don't you even think of doing something like this ever again."

"Okay, Dad."

You both froze, but for different reasons. You couldn't believe you slipped up and called a teacher dad, you were extraordinarily embarrassed. Crewel on the other hand was putting a name to exactly what that feeling of pride in his chest is every time he sees you succeed. You may not be his by blood or by law, but you are his. He ruffled your hair and sent you away with an order to rest up after your adventure.

You still came by his office after school, raving about a good grade on a history test or complaining about Grim and Ace getting you and Deuce in trouble in Vargas's class. It felt much lighter than when you first joined him in his office at the beginning of the school year, you had been so tense back then. You eventually took to calling him Dad on occasion, mostly when you were teasing him about something or other. He'd never imagined himself as a father, but he supposed at some point he had decided you were his kid, even subconsciously. It was probably the day he'd decided to stop watching, as soon as he closed that distance in his mind, you became his child. He wouldn't admit it out loud to you, or anyone for that matter, but he did consider you to be his family at this point.

In the meantime, Crowley had been actually, finally, working on a way to send you home, mirrors now lining his office, portals in the frames to different places in Twisted Wonderland, a few that go beyond but not correctly. Not to your home. Crowley had confided in Crewel that he wasn't sure he was going to find you a way home before the end of the school year, not sure what to do with you since they couldn't keep you on campus. Crewel offered up his home in half a heartbeat, more than willing to keep watching over you over the summer should it come to that. They were discussing the logistics of it in Crowley's office when you came into the room, stepping off to the side by the wall when you realized they were speaking, waiting your turn. You were standing in front of a large, full body mirror that nearly reached the ceiling in height when the door slammed open again, shaking the walls, Riddle scolding Kalim for opening the door so recklessly as the rest of the Housewardens filed in behind them. They all got a front row seat to watch the large mirror at your back teeter back and forth for a second, then topple forward and on top of you before you could even realize to dive out of the way. The mirror shattered when it landed flat on the floor, no sign of you underneath. Despite that, Crewel ran to it, enlisting Leona to help him lift it, desperately hoping to find you injured but alive. Find you there. But the only thing below the frame were the splinters of glass, now just reflecting the room instead of a swirling portal.

You were gone.

Crewel nearly throttled Crowley to get any information about that portal that he could. All Crowley could provide was the number he'd written on the back of the frame, a three, and suggested there may be others with that number. Other mirrors had recognizable names on the back, Clock Town square, Fleur City waterways, Scalding Sands outskirts. A few also had numbers, three ones, a five, two busted mirrors with a four on the back and the word dangerous, two had apparently been so uninhabitable that he tossed the mirror out entirely. He explained that he wasn't sure where the numbered mirrors led, they were not familiar lands to him. The ones all led to the exact same spot in a field of flowers he'd never laid eyes on, nor had you upon bringing one back, the five led to the inside of a locked room with lettering inscribed in the walls that you didn't recognize from your world. Three had led to a bustling city street. Crowley had led you through it once during his investigations. You recognized the area, but it was wrong. The way you'd described it was that it looked like three major cities from your world had been mashed together, and the lettering on the signs was unlike anything you'd seen. It wasn't home, but it had given Crowley the idea that he'd been getting close. Crewel sent the Housewardens out of the office at the explanation, and no one argued with his tone, the group of them too shaken by watching their friend disappear before their eyes.

"Bring them back." Crewel snapped as soon as the door closed behind the students.

"I'm sure they're fine, Divus, they even said themselves that it was similar to their home--"

Crewel grabbed him by the lapels on his jacket and dragged him back over to the shattered remains of the mirror. "Similar is not good enough, Dire." He snarled at the man. "You swore you would send them home, not abandon them in another unfamiliar place. Now, it is my pup that is lost as a result of your negligence and you will bring them back here, or so help me, I will--!"

"Alright! Yes, I will work on getting another portal open to them, but it will take time." Crowley agreed, if only to soothe over Crewel's rage. "It took months to find something that resembled their home the first time, and I haven't managed it again."

"Then I guess you had better get started."

The waiting was by far the hardest part. Every day for the first two weeks he would stop by Crowley's office to make sure he was working towards getting you back and to see if there were any developments. There were none. He was there in that office every day he didn't have classes, trying desperately to open the right portal. He and Crowley had told the Housewardens not to say anything to anyone yet, not wanting to worry the friends Crewel had watched you make. After the first two weeks of waiting, they could no longer keep it from Grim. Surprisingly enough, after telling him the news, Grim decided to stick close to Crewel in his free time. He's quieter now that you're missing, knowing he can't do anything. And Crewel said nothing. Azul and Riddle offered Crowley their help in creating portals to try to bring you back, Crewel almost had to threaten him to let them help. Eventually, when news finally spread about the reason behind your disappearance, Malleus came by to offer his assistance as well. It had been four weeks at this point, the five of them working together had managed to open eight new portals to places they didn't recognize, getting rid of every portal that led to another place in Twisted Wonderland to make room for the portals to other worlds in case one of them led to you and they just didn't realize it yet.

The waiting was agonizing. Crewel would, more often than not, end up sleeping at his desk in his office after staying too late with Crowley making portals and having to stay up longer to grade assignments. His office felt so quiet without you inserting yourself every day, he'd gotten so used to grading papers while you talked to him about your day that it was now hard to focus on it in the silence. But he had a duty to all his other students. So he kept teaching, training his other pups correctly lest they stray in his absence. But even the students noticed the change. He was quicker to anger, more harsh in his grading which they didn't think was possible, less tolerant of even the smallest mistakes. Trein had to pull him aside one day, three weeks after, to tell him he needed to take a break, that students were confiding in him about Crewel's behavior. He knew how he was acting, he knew how exhausted he was, but how could he be expected to stop when he knew you were out there somewhere? His kid was missing somewhere so far out of reach that finding them was, at this point, down to a shot in the dark, how could he be expected to take a break?

Four weeks had gone by with no sign of the portal you'd gone through. Riddle had dropped his appearances down to just the weekends, Azul had stopped coming entirely while claiming that he had to focus on the Lounge, Malleus returned every day like clockwork to try to find his dearest friend, but even he was starting to lose hope. Crewel still spent every waking moment that he wasn't fulfilling his role as a teacher on finding you. He had to drag Crowley back into the search a few times, and they'd fought about it more than once. Crewel, exhausted from lack of sleep and daily accumulation of blot, would shout at Crowley for not caring nearly enough that one of the students was missing, not caring enough to put his all into finding them again, how it was just like him to think his problems were solved once you were out of reach. Crowley would argue back that he was doing all he could, but he couldn't drop everything to look for one student when there were hundreds more to look after. They were in the middle of one of their arguments when Riddle stepped out of one of the portals, a medium sized vanity mirror they'd hung on the wall.

"Excuse me, Headmaster?" Riddle called out, causing the men to stop shouting long enough to listen. "You said it was a city street corner, correct?"

"Neon lights and the smell of the ocean, yes." Crowley nodded, crossing his arms.

"I believe I found it."

The two men glanced at each other quickly, silently agreeing to set aside their differences for the moment, and rushed forward to the mirror, letting it pull them through to the other side. They stepped out and landed on a cracked sidewalk atop a hill, neon lights reflecting off the puddles on the road, cars rushing past. Looking back, it seemed their portal had manifested in the window of a shop, the display inside blocking anyone in the store from seeing them suddenly appear in the street.

"This is it." Crowley confirmed before turning to go back through the portal. "I'll go see about getting a search party together and we can--"

Crewel didn't wait for him to finish, cupping his hands around his mouth and shouting your name down the street. There was barely any chance you stuck around on this road for four weeks, but he had to try. He didn't notice Crowley step through the portal again, and he paid no mind to the people watching him shouting your name like a mad man. He had to try. They'd found the connection, they'd come this far, you were within reach again, he couldn't just give up now. He wandered down the street, still shouting your name. The sun was setting on this unfamiliar world, he didn't want to risk not being able to find the portal home again for fear of not being able to lead you to it, but he couldn't just give up now. He ran a hand through his already messy hair in distress, eyes darting frantically around at the faces that were passing him by. Where would you have gone if you left? He didn't want to even entertain the idea of the worst having happened. The sun had disappeared below the horizon and his voice had gone hoarse from yelling when he heard it. He wasn't exactly sure what it was over the sounds of the cars rushing past and over the puddles in the road, but it made ears perk up. He looked around again, spinning around to try to find where it had come from when he heard it again, across the street. Your voice.

"Dad?!" You shouted over the rush of the cars, absolutely beaming when he finally made eye contact.

"Pup!" Crewel nearly collapsed in relief, he could feel tears gathering in the corners of his eyes.

"Hold on, I'm coming to you! Just stay there!" You shouted back, bouncing in place for a moment before disappearing into the crowd.

He felt the anxiety take hold again once he couldn't see you anymore, but you looked fine. Healthy, not injured, fed, even from a distance he could tell you were okay. He took his moment alone to thank the Sevens for that, if nothing else.

"How did you find me?!" You asked through a laugh as you emerged from the crowd and approached him.

You met his hug with equal fervor as he pulled you tight against him, the relief of having you within arms reach shattering any remaining decorum his sleep deprivation had left him with. He didn't hold you long, however, pulling you back by the shoulders to examine you. He was right. Healthy, not injured, not starving. A little dirty, bags under your eyes, but those could be fixed. You were safe, and that was all that mattered.

"We've been looking for you for weeks, Pup." He admitted, shoulders sagging under the weight of the relief. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm alright. I tried to get back through the portal but it must've closed behind me." You chuckled as you showed him your knuckles, cuts scabbed over now. "I got pissed off and punched it. I'm just glad I didn't get arrested for breaking the window, honestly."

"You and me both." Crewel shook his head, thinking it just like you. "The mirror shattered when it hit the floor, that's why you couldn't get back. You don't look like you've been sleeping in alleys, at least."

"No, I found a shelter to stay at, and I've been coming back here every day to wait for someone to come get me." You explained quickly. "I'm so glad you came."

"Of course I did." He sighed, putting a hand on top of your head. "I wasn't about to leave you here."

"Thanks Dad." You said quietly, stepping forward to hug him again. He held you close, rubbing your back as he did. "Can we go home now?"

"Yes, Pup. Let's go home."

Upon your return to Twisted Wonderland, while you were greeting Riddle and Malleus who had just been waiting for you to emerge, Crewel finally realized he could put words to the worry he was feeling during the waiting.

He didn't know how he was supposed to say good-bye to his child once Crowley finally found the right connection to send you home.

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION TO USE MY WORK TO TRAIN AI

During meetings, he’s sticking his gloved fingers into your mouth, pressing down on your tongue. Twisting and pulling it, leaving you to slobber all over that sheer designer lingerie he’s picked out for you. The moist fabric clings onto your skin, a tantalising view.

Crewel never forgets to remind you how you treat him so well, muttering and groaning into your ear as his hips subtly grind against your own, pulling you into his lap. He has some dignity, at least during meetings, where the most he’ll do is slip his fingers against your crotch. Rubbing and teasing, making you gasp, upper body falling limp against the table.

There’s a part of you that feels repulsed. A sick bile gathering at the very back of your throat, disgust flowing through your veins. You know that this is wrong, and his hands feel like poison against your skin, burning and hissing into your very soul.

But then Crewel slips a pink pill past your lips, and all you can think about is him, and that pulsating warmth gathering in your nether regions. You’re immediately consumed by your most base, animalistic instincts to hump against his thigh, drooling all over his neck.

Crewel likes good dogs.

You walked into the room with the confidence of someone blissfully unaware of the impending disaster you were about to unleash. "Hey! So what’s up, guys?"

Vil, who had been looking down at his phone, slowly raised his head. His expression went from neutral to horrified within seconds. His eyes widened like you had just committed an unforgivable crime in the fashion world.

Crewel, standing next to Vil, dropped his pointer stick in shock. “Oh, sweet Circe...”

“What?” You blinked, completely oblivious. “Oh, wait—do I have something on my face?” You wiped your cheek in confusion.

Vil was speechless, but you could practically see the gears turning in his head, trying to make sense of the monstrosity before him. Finally, he spoke, his voice trembling, “What… is this… abomination?”

Crewel chimed in, clutching his heart like he had just suffered a blow. “Pup, did you get dressed in the dark? Or did you get dressed at all?”

You looked down at yourself, frowning. “What’s wrong? I think I look fine.”

“Fine?” Vil echoed, his tone high-pitched in disbelief. “Fine? You look like a circus clown who just got into a street brawl with a technicolor vomit palette!”

You winced, shrugging. “But it’s comfortable!”

Vil took a deep breath, placing a hand on his forehead like he was trying to ward off an oncoming migraine. “Comfortable. You—You’re choosing comfort over aesthetics? Comfort over… dignity?”

Crewel stepped forward, eyeing you like you were some sort of lost cause. “The crocs with socks,” he murmured, almost to himself. “We have truly reached the end times.”

You held out your arms, trying to defend yourself. “Hey, don’t knock the crocs until you’ve tried them! They’re so comfortable!”

Vil looked at you like you had grown a second head. “Comfort?! These… shoes, if you can even call them that, are a crime against humanity. There are many sins in this world, but that?” He pointed at your feet as if they had personally offended him. “That is unforgivable.”

“I’m expressing myself!” you retorted, trying to defend your beloved flames and crocs combo. “It’s, like, a mix of cozy and edgy.”

“It’s a mix of atrocity and chaos!” Vil shot back, rubbing his temples. “I can’t believe this. How can you live with yourself?”

Crewel stepped forward, eyes narrowing at your glittering silver leggings. “Do these shine in the dark?” he asked incredulously.

“They do,” you admitted proudly. “Handy for late-night trips to the kitchen.”

Vil’s gasp was practically theatrical. “No, no, no… This… this is a crime against humanity, a crime against eyes. You have reached a level of fashion disaster I didn’t even think was possible.”

You puffed out your chest. “It’s expressive!”

“It’s revolting,” Vil countered. “I’m losing years off my life just by looking at it.”

You sighed, waving your hand dismissively. “Okay, okay, I get it, you hate my style. But this is just how I roll, you know? I like to stand out! You gotta admit I’m unique!”

“Unique?” Vil choked. “No. This is not unique. This is a fever dream. This is what happens when nightmares and bad taste have a lovechild!”

Crewel leaned over to Vil, whispering in horror, “I’ve never seen anything like it in my life, and I’ve seen everything.”

Vil placed a hand on Crewel’s shoulder, staring dead-eyed at your outfit. “We have to do something. Immediately.”

You looked between them, still unsure of what the big deal was. “Guys, come on, it’s not that bad.”

Vil snapped his gaze to you, eyes wild with disbelief. “It’s worse than bad! I’m actually offended by how you’re standing there as if you’ve done nothing wrong.”

Crewel nodded solemnly. “This is a rescue mission, pup. And you’re about to thank us for it.”

Suddenly, Vil’s face lit up with determination. “This… abomination cannot stand. I will personally oversee your rehabilitation.”

You blinked. “Rehabilitation?”

“Yes,” Vil said, voice firm. “You’re a danger to yourself and everyone around you. Fashion this offensive is a public safety hazard.”

You glanced at Crewel, pleading for help. But Crewel, instead of coming to your aid, smiled like he had just found the perfect opportunity for training. “Listen to Vil, puppy. He knows best. And maybe, just maybe, we can prevent another tragedy like this from happening again.”

“But—” you started, trying to defend your beloved crocs one last time, “what if I just—”

“No.” Vil cut you off, his voice final, as if he were delivering a royal decree. “From this moment on, you are banned from wearing crocs. And if I ever catch you with socks and sandals…” He narrowed his eyes threateningly.

“But I don’t own sandals?” you tried to protest.

“Good,” Vil replied sharply. “Keep it that way.”

Crewel nodded sagely beside him. “There’s hope for you yet, pup. Just… never again.”

Vil sighed dramatically, then placed his hands on your shoulders, looking deep into your eyes. “We will make this right.”

You smiled nervously, not entirely sure what you were getting into. “Okay, Vil, I’ll trust you… but just so you know, I’m still sneaking in my crocs when you’re not looking.”

Vil blinked at you, his grip tightening just slightly as he whispered in the most chilling tone you’d ever heard, “Try it.”

And suddenly, you weren’t so sure if he was joking or not.

By the end of the day, Vil had somehow convinced you to burn the silver pants, and Crewel was lecturing you on the importance of not traumatizing the general public with “fashion choices that could summon evil spirits.”

Vil looked at you proudly, eyes softening as he muttered, “Much better…”

And as you stood there in an outfit Vil had personally chosen, you couldn’t help but smile. “Thanks, Vil.”

Vil smirked, placing a kiss on the back of your hand, making your heart do a little flip. “Don’t thank me yet. This is only the beginning.”

Crewel clapped his hands together. “And remember, pup, no more unicorn pants, or I’ll have to report you to the fashion police.”

You grinned cheekily. “What, the fashion police, or you two?”

“Both,” they answered in unison.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help laughing. “Fine, fine, no more crocs and unicorns… for now.”

Vil gave you a long, narrow-eyed look. “We’ll see.”

But despite all the chaos, you could tell they both secretly cared. Even if they were ready to set your wardrobe on fire.

I didnt know if you wanted then seperately or together so i put them together. If you want then separately, just let me know!