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alessiasfreckles · 3 months

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chocolate chip cookies (alessia russo x depressed!reader)

when you quit the team, feeling lost, no one knows what to do, including you. you spend days curled up in bed, alone, until you meet alessia, your replacement, who brings you out of your shell and helps you find yourself again.

warnings: depression is a big topic in this one! no mention of s/h or suicidal thoughts, just overall depression. if you're feeling depressed, don't hesitate to reach out.

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When you tell the team that you’re quitting, the room goes silent. Then someone bursts out laughing. You’re not sure who, you’re staring at the ground, not wanting to look into the faces of your now former teammates. They think it’s a joke. It’s only when you turn around and leave without another word that they realise you’re being serious.

And you are. You've already spoken to Jonas - he tried to convince you to stay, but you’d made up your mind. He told you that whilst he couldn’t guarantee there would always be a spot for you on the team, there’d always be a spot for you at the club. You nodded, thanking him quietly. You won’t be going back, you know that, but it seems unnecessary to make this harder for everyone else.

You don’t go back to the training ground after you tell everyone. You’ve already packed all your things in your car, wanting to make your departure quick and easy. On the drive home, your phone keeps buzzing with messages and calls from your former teammates. When you’re at a red light, you turn your phone off.

You decided to leave a while ago. You’ve lost any passion for the game, and when you realised that you were just going through the movements, you decided it would be best for the team if you left. You were dead weight, taking up a spot that could be used by someone else. Someone better. Someone who cares.

When you get home, you leave everything in the car, even your phone. You go inside and go straight to your room, getting into bed. you’re just so tired. It doesn’t take long for you to fall asleep, feeling slightly more peaceful now that you don’t have the prospect of quitting looming ahead.

You wake up to the sound of someone banging on your front door. Most of the day has passed, it’s getting dark outside. You lie there for a minute, waiting to see if the banging will stop, but it just gets more insistent. You sigh, dragging yourself out of bed and to the front door. When it opens, you see the faces of your teammates. Beth, Viv, Leah, Kim, Katie. The core five. They ask what’s going on, say that they’ve been trying to call you and message you all day. You walk past them to your car, get your phone out, shrug.

“I left my phone in the car,” you say. You watch them exchange glances.

Still, you don’t want to be a bad host. Or a bad friend - if they still consider you a friend. You decide that it’s understandable if they don’t. You invite them in, and they pile onto your sofa. Leah pulls a stool in front of the sofa, telling you to sit down. You sit. Five faces stare at you, expressions ranging from confused to worried to something like anger.

You didn’t mean to make anyone angry.

“What’s going on?” Kim asks, her captain voice on.

You shrug.

“Why would you quit?” Katie asks, frowning.

I’m not good enough, I'm bringing the team down, I don’t care about playing, the team deserves better, you all deserve better, runs through your head.

You shrug.

“Y/n, is something going on?” Viv asks, her voice gentle.

I’m tired, I don’t want to do this anymore, I just want to sleep, I wish I didn’t exist, life would be easier if I didn’t exist, I don’t understand why any of you are here, why do you care about me, I don’t care about me, I’m not worth caring about.

You shrug, then shake your head.

“I just don’t want to play anymore,” you finally say. You’re not sure if it’s the truth or not. You loved playing, once. You loved the feeling that you got when you were on the pitch, the way it made everything else melt away. But you haven’t had that feeling in a while. When you’re on the pitch, the voice telling you you’re not good enough follows you.

Your former teammates frown. They’re not convinced, and honestly, neither are you. You say that you’re tired, you want to sleep. They get the hint and leave, but not before each hugging you tightly, telling you to call them if you need anything. Beth and Viv promise to bring Myle around at the weekend, and Leah says she’ll come and see you tomorrow.

They keep it up for a few weeks, but the season is starting, and you know they’re busy. You spend your days at home, curled up in bed, cocooned in a blanket. You watch tv and scroll on your phone for hours. You order the food shopping to be delivered so you don’t even have to leave the house. Someone usually visits you on their day off, and the girls message you. You go over to Beth and Viv’s place, cuddle the dogs, watch tv there instead of in bed at home. It's okay. You’re fine. You don’t feel any better, really, but it’s fine.

It starts when you’re forced to go to a movie night. Leah promises it’s just a small group of the girls, she knows you don’t want to be faced with the whole team. She tells you that there’s one new girl there, the new signing, but that she’s really nice. On the day, you think about ways to get out of it - surely Leah can’t just force you to go?

She can and she does. She shows up at your house, tells you that she will pick you up and put you in the car if she has to. You crack a smile at the image. It’s the first time you’ve smiled in a while. Leah notices.

The movie night is at hers. She's picked you up early, and when you get back to her place she sets you to work, chopping fruits and veggies for a snack board. The doorbell rings, the first person arriving. You expect it to be maybe Beth and Viv, who are usually pretty punctual, but it’s the new girl. Alessia. You've seen her in person a couple of times, when the team played against Manchester United last season, but you were already feeling out of it and hadn’t paid much attention to her then.

She comes in, hugs Leah and smiles at you. You smile back. She asks if there’s anything she can do to help, and Leah directs her to some meat and cheese she’s put out that needs slicing. She's been seeing charcuterie boards on instagram a lot lately and wanted to try making one.

“You mean, you wanted to get us to make one for you,” Alessia teases, and you let out a small laugh. It surprises you, and Leah, whose mouth drops open slightly. Alessia doesn’t think twice of it - why would she, she’s never really met you before. She wouldn’t know that it’s the first time anyone has made you laugh in, well, months.

The evening goes well. It's nice to be around the girls. You don’t pay much attention to the movie, your brain feels too foggy to keep up with it. The mean voice returns, telling you that you’re just there because they feel sorry for you. You start picking at your nails.

“I like your nail polish,” Alessia leans over and says to you quietly. She’s sat next to you on the sofa.

“Oh, thanks,” you reply, taken aback. The nail polish is chipped and worn, remnants from Katie coming over and painting your nails a few weeks ago.

“It's a great colour. I like having my nails done but I'm terrible at leaving them alone. I fidget too much and I'm clumsy so I usually end up breaking at least one,” she tells you, looking at her own nails.

You nod, not saying anything. You wrack your brain, trying to think of what to say or how to act. It's been so long since you talked to anyone new that you feel like you’ve forgotten how to be normal.

“Um, you can borrow it, if you want,” you say. “The colour, I mean. I can give it to one of the girls to give to you.”

“Really? That’d be great!” she looks at you with a big smile. You feel an odd sensation in your stomach, like you’ve just had a hot drink and the warmth is trying to spread throughout your body.

You nod shyly, giving her a small smile.

After that night, she starts messaging you. The first message you write off as being about the nail polish. After all, why else would she message you? She keeps going, though. After she sends you a message thanking you for the nail polish, she mentions a book she’s reading. You’ve read it too, so you figure the polite thing to do is to ask her what she thinks of it so far. Then she asks you for recommendations. You’ve been reading a lot, lately, now that you have time. You send her a detailed list, then realise that maybe that’s too much, but you’ve sent it now. She replies with heart eyes and exclamation marks, so you think that maybe it was okay after all.

She asks if she can come over to borrow a book you’ve told her about. After a moment of hesitation, you say yes, she can come over tomorrow afternoon, if that works. You spend the rest of the day cleaning and tidying. The next morning you find a chocolate chip cookie recipe. You used to bake a lot, but you didn’t really have time for it anymore after becoming a professional footballer, and you weren’t meant to be eating that kind of thing anyway. The thought crosses your mind as you mix the ingredients that maybe Alessia won’t want any, since most of the team eat pretty healthily. You keep mixing. It’s too late now, you might as well finish making them.

You’re nervous, waiting for her to arrive. You’re not sure why, probably just because you haven’t interacted with her alone before. You’ve put some cookies out on a plate in case she wants any, and you’ve already got the book she wants to borrow lying on the table.

When the doorbell rings, it makes you jump. You open the door and she steps inside, immediately giving you a hug, then quickly stepping back.

“Sorry, is hugging okay? I need to get better at checking with people before I hug them,” she says apologetically.

“Hugging is okay,” you nod, and she grins and pulls you into a hug.

“Oh my god, it smells amazing in here!” she exclaims, looking around.

“I made chocolate chip cookies,” you explain, and brace yourself for rejection. “Do you want one?”

“Absolutely!” she says, and you try to hide the surprise on your face. You offer her the plate and she takes one. When she bites into it, she lets out a moan that has you blushing. “Holy shit, y/n, these are incredible! You really made these yourself?”

You feel that warmth pooling in your stomach again. You nod, smiling shyly.

“You should be a professional baker or something, these are so so good!” she tells you, polishing off the cookie. You can’t help but smile. There are crumbs on the corners of her mouth and a smear of chocolate on her chin.

“You’ve, um, got something,” you say, pointing to your chin. “Right there. A bit of chocolate, I think.”

“Whoops,” she blushes, wiping the chocolate away with a sheepish smile.

“Oh, I have the book you wanted,” you say, figuring that she probably has things to do.

“Trying to get rid of me so quickly?” she asks.

A pit opens up in your stomach. “No, no!” you quickly insist, but she laughs and waves you off.

“I’m just teasing,” she tells you, smiling.

You smile back, but it’s forced. It doesn’t seem like Alessia notices, though.

“You have a lot of books,” she says, eyeing the large bookshelf in your living room. “Have you always read a lot?”

“I used to, when I was little. I didn’t really have time to read as much when I joined the team,” you say, and wince at the mention of your leaving. She’s never brought up the fact that she essentially replaced you, and you don’t want her to.

“I’m guessing leaving the team has given you a lot more time for things like reading?” she asks, and you nod.

“And baking,” you add, not wanting it to seem like you’ve just been sitting at home not doing anything since you left. Even if that is the truth. She doesn’t need to know that today is the first time you’ve baked in, well, years.

“True, that one is very important!” she says, taking another cookie from the plate. “Seriously, y/n, these are amazing.”

She keeps asking you things, about yourself, about books, about your life, and you don’t realise how much time has passed until you look outside to see that it’s gotten dark. She follows your gaze out of the window and jumps up.

“Shit, I didn’t realise how late it was! I really should get going,” she says apologetically.

You hold out the plate of cookies. “Want one for the road?”

The two of you message more after that. It’s weird, how easy it is to talk to her. You chalk it up to the fact that she never met you before you left. This is the only version of you she knows. She doesn’t expect anything from you.

A couple weeks later, she asks if she can borrow another book. This time she wants you to recommend something for her, and you pore over your bookshelf for hours, trying to find the perfect book for her. Once you’ve decided on one, the next task you’re faced with is what to bake this time. She didn’t mention anything about it, but after she enjoyed your cookies so much, it feels like it’d only be right to bake something again.

This time you make pumpkin spice cupcakes with cream cheese frosting. You carefully mould little pumpkins out of marzipan to decorate the cupcakes, and you can’t help but feel a swell of pride at the look of astonishment on her face when she eats one and lets out a moan at how good it is. She keeps commenting on the little pumpkins, in awe at the fact that you made them by hand, and the warm feeling spreads throughout your body, making your fingers tingle. After she leaves, armed with a new book and two more cupcakes, you get a message from Leah, inquiring about where her cupcake is, and how come Alessia gets cupcakes but you’ve never baked anything for her, and you smile to yourself.

The days in between visits are not as good. You still spend a lot of time curled up in bed. Sometimes, you think about the future, and you usually end up falling asleep trying not to think about it, brain spiralling.

This goes on for a few months. Every couple of weeks, Alessia visits you for a new book and some new baked goods, and every time the two of you spend a little longer talking. You both avoid the topic of you leaving the team and what you’re going to do next. You have enough money in savings that it’s not something you have to worry about, for a while at least, and thinking about it makes you want to cry, or sleep, or just not exist anymore.

One day, though, Alessia is sitting on your sofa, eating a slice of lemon cake, when she asks gently, “What are you doing, y/n?”.

The question is enough to make you burst into tears, tears that you didn’t know you’d been holding in.

“I don’t- I don’t know,” you sob helplessly as she rushes to your side, pulling you into a hug.

“Well, what do you want to do?” she asks after you’ve calmed down a little.

The question makes you stop. You haven’t thought about that in forever.

“All I’ve ever wanted to do is play football,” you shrug.

“But… not anymore?” she prompts you. You can understand why she’d think that. You quit, after all.

“I don’t know. I think I do still want to play, just… not at that level. It was too much. I feel like I-” you trail off, sighing. “I feel like I lost myself. And I still don’t know where I am, or who I am. Everything just feels so hard, like it’s all so much effort, and like there’s nothing I can do to stop it all from happening, like it’s a huge wave and I’m just getting tossed around under the water, barely able to come up for air.”

She nods, not saying anything, and you feel a sudden rush of embarrassment for opening up like that.

“Sorry, I don’t know why I said all that, I-” you say, but she cuts you off.

“No, it’s okay! I asked, I want to know. And it makes sense. A friend of mine struggled with depression a lot when we were teenagers, and-”

“Wait, depression? You think I’m depressed?” you ask, confused. Alessia laughs gently, placing a hand on your shoulder.

“Oh, I’m 99% sure you’re depressed,” she says.

“Wha- I’m not depressed,” you insist, shaking your head. “It’s not like I want to hurt myself or anything.”

“Okay, but do you ever feel like it would be easier if you didn’t exist?�� she asks, and you frown. “Or, like, have you lost interest in things you were previously passionate about? Do you feel tired all the time?”

“Okay,” you say, slowly. “So, maybe I’m a little depressed.”

The mean voice at the back of your mind laughs.

“What if I’m just being dramatic, though?” you ask. “Plus, I have no reason to be depressed. I have a good life, I have nothing to worry about.”

“Look, what if you go and see someone? A doctor, or a therapist?” she suggests, and your cheeks burn at the thought of burdening someone else with your problems.

“No, it’s fine, it’s not that serious,” you say, waving a hand. “There’s definitely more important stuff they have to deal with. I’m fine, seriously.”

She raises an eyebrow but drops the topic. She brings it up the next time she comes over though, and the next, and the next. You think about it a lot.You look stuff up online, look at social media accounts talking about people’s experiences, buy books dealing with the subject.

The next time she comes over, you tell her you’ve made an appointment with a therapist, and she hugs you tightly.

You start seeing each other weekly, after that. Sometimes she’ll go to yours, sometimes you’ll go to hers. She’s on a mission to help you figure out what you want, and nothing is going to stop her. She buys you baking books and equipment, goes to galleries and museums with you, watches documentaries on pretty much everything and anything the two of you can find. When you mention that you’ve been thinking about learning how to play the piano, she helps you find a teacher nearby.

Things are looking up. You still don’t know what you want to do, but you’re feeling better. Your therapist is good, and you thank your lucky stars that you’re in a position to be able to pay for private therapy.

When Alessia rings your doorbell, you don’t think anything of it. You’d planned for her to come over to watch a documentary she’d found about llamas (you weren’t sure what revelation you were going to have about your future from watching something about llamas, but who were you to deny her?). When you open the door, she’s smiling from ear to ear and holding a box.

“I have a surprise for you,” she says, closing the door behind her gently as she comes in.

She carefully sets the box down and opens it to reveal a small ginger kitten. It looks up at you with wide eyes and lets out a small meow, then puts its paws up on the edge of the box, looking out curiously.

“Alessia, what is this? Whose kitten is this?” you ask, dumbfounded.

“Yours?” she asks, smiling sheepishly.

“What do you mean, mine?”

“I mean, she’s your kitten. If you want her? Oh god, please say you want her. It’s just, you talked about having a cat when you were younger, and how much you’d like to have one again, and I figured they’re a lot lower maintenance than dogs, and-” she’s cut off by you hugging her tightly. Tears prick the corners of your eyes and you try to blink them away fiercely, still hugging Alessia.

A small mew alerts you to the kitten, who has jumped out of the box and is rubbing her head against your leg.

“I have her stuff in the car,” Alessia says, nodding towards the door. “I’ll just go get it?”

You nod, unable to look at anything but the tiny kitten now trying to clamber up your leg.

You’ve been seeing your therapist for about 6 months when Alessia asks you to be her girlfriend. It’s a couple months after she got you Dorothea - Dory for short (or Dorito, occasionally), as you’d named the ginger kitten. You’re stunned, but quickly nod yes as she starts to bite her lip, looking worried at your lack of answer. You hug her, feeling her breathe a sigh of relief against you, and when she kisses you she tastes like the chocolate chip cookies you’d made earlier that day, the same recipe as the first time she’d come over.

Your therapist has been helping you figure out what you want, now that you’re slowly regaining some of the passion you’d lost. You decide that you do still want to do something with football, just, as you’d told Alessia, not professional football. You hadn’t realised how much you’d missed having time to yourself, having other hobbies outside of your work.

You get in contact with Jonas, who puts you in contact with some other people, and before you know it you’re back at the club. Not on the team, you've made it pretty clear that that’s not what you want. Instead, you’re spending the day at the youth program. You already know by lunch time that this is what you want to do.

Before you know it, you’re settled in as a coach for the Academy. Your days consist of working with kids, young people who have the whole world ahead of them. You still have bad days sometimes, where it feels like you can’t get out of bed. On days like that Dory cuddles up next to you in bed, and Alessia holds you close. She moves in after you get the job, claiming it makes sense, since you’re always either at her place or she’s at your place anyway. She insists that she’s still very much a dog person, but you catch her asleep on the sofa one evening, with Dory curled up on her lap, and you smile.

#alessia russo #woso x reader #alessia russo x reader #alessia russo imagine #alessia russo fanfic #woso fanfics #woso #woso imagine #awfc #also i know this is a pretty 'good' image of depression #and that it's usually much messier than this #but for the sake of the fic i left it fairly 'mild'#tw: depression #hannah writes fics

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blackcherryvelvet0909 · 8 months

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Feathered Good (Crowley x GN!Reader)

Content Warning: Alcohol (no intoxication), implied depression, implied unhealthy coping mechanisms, mild angst

Note: Reader is an adult NRC staff member

A pleased hum vibrated along your lips and rumbled through your throat as a soft breeze kissed your skin. It smelt of sand and sea, beneath that the delectable scent of various dishes cooking in the restaurant kitchen. You took another sip of your drink, the taste of [favorite fruit] wonderfully flooding your taste buds once again. You savored the flavor as your gaze lingered on the view before you, out towards the vast body of saltwater beyond. It was an excellent idea, coming out here; you’d have to thank Divus for the recommendation later. This was exactly what you needed.

You were tucked into a nice little corner as well. Your table was situated on the lower deck of the restaurant - you thought it too nice an evening to remain inside. The spot wasn’t too far from the kitchens, either, so your food and drink didn’t take long to reach you. There was only one thing missing: company. When you first planned to eat out here, you thought Divus and Trein would come with you. However, as usual, their duties as professors got them into a bit of trouble, and a little injury. Thank goodness it wasn’t too bad of a fall; even so, the men had been in no mood to walk two to three flights of stairs, whether short or long.

So, here you were, split between happiness for the alone time and disappointed in the lack of friendly conversation. Your eyes made another once over of your surroundings, watching the other patrons chat and laugh amongst themselves. Just as you were about to focus back on the waning sunset, your gaze settled on a familiar figure on the floor above. You could scarcely make out his frame, but you knew that mask from anywhere. What was Crowley doing here? Well, that was a dumb question. When was the headmage not making the most of the trip - either on or off the clock, to you and your coworkers’ misfortune.

You couldn’t try and scold him, since it was technically both your off times. There was no reason to go and talk to him. Still…you found yourself rising from your seat. You placed a few madol on the table for your waiter; as you passed by the person at the register, you mentioned you were moving up to the top floor. That way they wouldn’t try and chase you, thinking you were trying to skip paying your bill. When the cashier gave you a nod and a smile, you headed up the long flight of stairs. It was a bit of a struggle to not spill your drink in your ascension, but you managed. Within minutes you reached the top - the view was even better from this height.

Crowley faced away from you, the rim of his glass pressed to his lips as he took a sip of the liquid within. You couldn’t tell if it was alcoholic or not - did he even drink? Guess it was time to find out. “I’m surprised to see you here,” were the words you greeted him with. He turned to you as you rested your glass on the wooden edge of the balcony, wide enough for patrons to settle small plates of food or beverages.

The headmage greeted you with a smile as he straightened his posture. “I make a point to visit this restaurant whenever I get the chance to travel here.” Crowley leaned against the railing, arm rested atop it, clawed hands almost folded in front of him. He looked more casual than usual - relaxed, even. If he were not a man who constantly plucked at your nerves, you’d think him rather dashing, especially since, this evening, he was not clad in that gaudy tropical shirt and khakis. Aside from his cloak, top hat, and cane, he was dressed in his usual ensemble. “Is this your first time here?” he asked.

“The restaurant or this beach in general?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “Either.”

“Yes, to both,” you answered. Your body relaxed as you rested your arms against the wooden railing, glass placed next to you. “This is my first vacation in forever, I think. Usually, when I’m not working, I just hang out at home.” You chuckled, “I wouldn’t exactly call this a vacation, anyway; it’s basically a work trip.”

“True,” Crowley agreed, “but I have done my best to work some ample time for you and the other staff to enjoy yourselves as well.” You seriously questioned that, with the way the man would sometimes outright abandon you and the students in favor of some other unknown activity. He picked up his small glass with his fingertips, swirling the brown liquid within as his eyes cast back out at the waves beyond. “This is truly a charming place, despite the hustle and bustle of the tourists.” Crowley lifted the glass to take another sip of his beverage. Feeling a bit mischievous, you decided to ask him another question.

“Is that why Royal Sword and Noble Bell also chose this place to hold their field trips?” You held back a laugh as the headmage nearly choked on the drink. Patiently, you waited for him to regain himself before he answered.

“Well…I suppose that is the reason.” You could almost picture the sweat that surely beaded under his shirt collar. “As I said, this is a wondrous place! What better destination for students to learn and play?”

“It is, indeed, a place to do both - for all ages.” A little smirk played on your lips as you pried more. “It’s just strange we arrived right as the other schools did.” You lifted your drink to your lips as you added, “Coincidence, perhaps?”

The headmage now avoided your gaze - a clear sign he was nervous. “Ah…yes!” Crowley let out a nervous laugh. “Quite so! Us three headmasters must be in sync with one another. As they say, great minds think alike!”

Or a certain one didn’t want to look bad in front of his peers, you thought to yourself. For now, you decided to keep that thought to yourself. After all, there was no proof to that…yet. Divus said he would keep you posted.

“While it does allow our students to mingle with ones from other schools, it is a little chaotic.” You sighed as you placed your drink back down on the space next to you, the taste of [drink of choice] fresh upon your tongue. “I’m surprised there haven't been that many fights. Aside from Spade’s confrontation with those Royal Sword boys, there hasn’t been much of an incident. It’s either we finally have peace in the valley,” another sigh left your lips, “or all will come crashing down in the final days of the trip.”

“Come now,” Crowley chuckled. “Do you have such little faith in our flock?” You sent him a look - without words, he seemed to get the point. He nodded his head, “Yes, our students are a rowdy bunch, to be sure. But perhaps this change of scenery will calm those rebellious natures enough for them to put away their fists.”

“Hopefully,” you wished, with all of your being. You really didn’t get paid enough for the hassle sometimes.

A silence fell between you two for a few moments, nothing but the sound of distant chatter and ocean waves filling your ears. Crowley was the one to break that hush. “[Y/n]?” You perked up at the sound of your name - your first name. It was odd for him not to address you formerly, even when off duty. With your attention back on him, he continued. “What do you think makes a good person?”

“I didn’t know you partook in philosophy,” you said, perplexed by the question. Where did this come from?

“I read up on the subject from time to time,” Crowley mentioned. “Will you humor me?”

Well, you didn’t see why you couldn’t. You did yearn for conversation earlier - now you had it. For a few seconds, you thought his question over, tossed and turned it in your mind. What made a good person? “I guess it depends on the person,” you finally replied. “No one will answer the same; it all weighs on someone’s life experience, I think.”

“That was not what I asked.” Crowley’s expression was different, you realized. He looked sincere - more serious than you’d ever seen him. Even when a certain group of students overblotted in the past year, he hadn’t appeared this way. “I am asking you what makes a good person. In your eyes, what makes a good person?”

You rarely ever experienced this man look directly into your eyes. It was almost like he wanted to peer into your very soul to find the answer. The tone of his voice had shifted as well, you noticed. Has Crowley ever been so earnest? You couldn’t answer that. You said you would humor him, so humor him you would. After a bit more contemplation, you explained to him what, to you, made a good person.

The man listened intently, hung on your every word. He gave a slight nod of his head from time to time, truly taking in your beliefs. You secretly wished he’d take his work as seriously as this opinion of yours. Once you said your piece, he nodded once more, and then another long moment of silence washed over you both. That yellow gaze, obscured behind Crowley’s dark mask, was cast down to the ground. The rest of his expression, along with his body language, was almost…solemn, you thought. Did he find your answer disappointing?

Before you could ask, he raised his head and smiled at you. Though it looked a little strained, he sounded genuine. “Thank you, [Y/n]. I will keep your words in mind for the future.” You watched as he picked up his glass once more, clasped a little tightly in his palm as he held it up to his lips. He then tilted his head back and drank the entirety of his beverage in a few short gulps.

Your eyes must have widened at the display, for he let out a small laugh. “What’s that look for?”

“What was that?” you asked, pointing at his now empty glass.

“My drink?” Crowley shook the glass and the remaining ice clinked around within. “Scotch.”

“You chugged it that quickly?!” The audacity of this man. “Will you even be able to walk back to the hotel?” It wasn’t too far away, the restaurant was located just outside the resort, but…

Crowley let out another laugh, much louder than the last. “Aww, you worry for me? I’m flattered!” Who wouldn’t worry? “But I assure you I’m quite alright. It takes a lot more than that to get me tipsy.”

That was a pretty sizable amount of liquor though. Even Trein, someone who himself partook in scotch from time to time, would get a little blitzed after such a chug. How…how much did it take to get Crowley drunk? How much had he drunk in the past to build that high of a tolerance? Your expression must have revealed your inner thoughts, for Crowley let out another chuckle.

“It has been my friend on many a late night,” he explained. Crowley eyed the glass in his hand almost as though it were an old friend. He appeared…almost sad, for the way he smiled. “This evening is one of few where it is not required.”

Your heart sank. Not required? Sure, you knew Crowley was probably the type to drink a good bit, like Divus, but…that sounded rather ominous. Crowley appeared no different than the depressed protagonist in a movie. What exactly did he have to be depressed about? You thought back to the odd question he asked you minutes before. ‘What makes a good person?’

You thought about all the times Crowley praised himself. How kind he claimed to be with every little thing he did. Always out of arrogance, narcissism, maybe. Now, in light of the question he gave you, how he reacted and mulled over your answer. It now seemed those praises were affirmations to himself…assurances he was doing good. The confidence he showed when he made such claims always fueled the frustration within you. When put in this light though, it sounded like…like a man desperate to be a good person, when he didn’t know how to be.

“Dire-”

Your elbow hit something as you adjusted your position: Your glass. You gasped as it fell over the railing; you were just in time to watch it fall down to the sand three flights of stairs away. Thankfully it didn’t hit anyone on the way. A few guests and servers looked up in confusion - you suddenly felt embarrassed. You nearly jumped out of your skin when Crowley belted out in laughter. “It happens to the best of us!” he reassured. “I can’t count how many times I’ve made such a blunder.”

With a wave of his hand, he called a waiter over. “Would you get my companion here another -” he glanced over at you “ - what were you having?”

“[Drink of choice],” you mumbled, still flustered beyond belief.

“[Drink of choice]!” Crowley repeated to the waiter. He handed them his empty glass as he added, “And another glass of scotch for me, if you wouldn’t mind.” Crowley slipped the waiter a several madol as a tip - or as a way to get your drinks quicker. Either way, the waiter uttered a ‘yes, sir’ before they headed down to the bar. As they went out of sight, Crowley turned back to you. “Where is that smile from before? You’re not the first to knock over a glass, you know.”

“I know…” You shied away as you rubbed your arm. “I just hate someone has to pick it up.”

“I’m sure that isn’t the worst thing they’ve ever done.” Crowley sat himself in a cushioned chair at the corner of the floor. You followed suit and took the one across from him. “If it broke, I will pay for that as well.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Wouldn’t I have to pay for it?”

“Usually,” he rested his chin against the back of his hand, “if I were not treating you.”

Dire Crowley, the stingy headmage of Night Raven College, treating you? You couldn’t hold back the small laugh that escaped your throat. “I didn’t know you had a sense of humor,” you quipped.

He scoffed, taken aback by your statement. “Whatever do you mean? I have a great sense of humor! And that was not a joke: I intend to pay for the drinks you may have in my presence.”

Who clocked him over the head? “You’re serious?” you questioned with a skeptical raise of your brow. “Not going to take this out of my paycheck or something?”

“You think me that cruel?” He seemed to flinch by the look that crossed your face. “No no, I’m not going to take it out of your check - or any thereafter.” Another smile twitched at his lips. “Consider this my thanks for your company - and for answering my question.”

You wanted to ask more - more than him treating you. Yet something told you to hold back for now. Apparently this man was more cryptic, held more mysteries than you ever thought him to. There likely wouldn’t be anything to garner from his question - tonight, at least. Might as well take your good luck and accept the offer, before he changed his mind. You put your skepticism aside and smiled. “Thank you - I really appreciate it.”

Those masked eyes seemed to brighten a little at your gratitude. His posture straightened a bit more, his characteristic confidence back in full force. “Of course! I cherish the opportunity to reward one of my fellow peers for their hard work. After all,” his smile wavered into what looked like a smirk, “I am ever so kind~”

Another reassurance…to you, or to himself? You seriously would question that from now on.

If only you knew just how much Dire Crowley valued your opinion.

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