The Hybrid Who Tried

Chapter 1: The Name's Crowley

2nd Person POV

You awaken to (F/s) on your phone due to your alarm. You turn it off, roll over, and practically fall out of bed. You get up and get ready forgetting that you have nothing to do today. You go to your closet and slip on a black (F/b) tank top, and a red and black flannel shirt over it. You leave it unbuttoned because you're in a rush for no reason whatsoever. You put on some fresh-out-of-the-dryer, lace black underwear, and some ripped jeans that were in your closet. You think to yourself, 'I should really do laundry' as you walk to the bathroom. You brush your hair and decide to leave it down, for the sake of hair ties breaking all the time. You brush your teeth, and look in the mirror. A hard, long look in the mirror. You don't know why, you just look at yourself and think, 'Why do I have to be the way I am'. You didn't consider yourself beautiful. Quite the opposite in fact. Though every guy in the world thought you were. You put on your black converse and grab your wallet and walk out the door. You don't like the feel of purses so you just have a wallet. Easier to carry anyway. You wave to your neighbor that lives across the street. He/She/They (Your pick) always thought of you as different. Not weird. Not odd. Not peculiar. Just different. You always stayed home, or when you did leave, you came home late. You had weird time schedules, especially at your job at the local mall. You worked at a Hot Topic store and got random openings for the job. They had so many employees, they had a random schedule, and your boss had you working at a random 5 hours at a time, trying to fit everyone in. You walk to your local coffee shop/restaurant and order your favorite breakfast. You got a hot chocolate instead of coffee, because you have had coffee for the last few weeks in a row, and wanted to change it up a bit. You thank the waitress and she smiles and walks away. A shorter but handsome man walks in, around 5'9, wearing a black and deep red tuxedo. He has solemn brown eyes, a scruff, and very short hair. He sits at a booth across the room. He looks nervous and anxious at the same time, and looks filled with worry. You want to say something to him, maybe talk to him, but get nervous yourself. You gulp down your own uneasiness and walk over to him. You sit down across from him in the booth, and he looks at you. He starts to say something and you interrupt by asking if he was alright. You knew you weren't the best at starting conversations, but you wanted to help anyway.
"I'm alright, just have a lot on my mind." He has a thick English accent, sounding foreign but at the same time natural. He finishes by asking, "The name's Crowley, and you are?" Why not.
"

Y/n", you say, trying not to sound too weird, but still trying to be a bit heartwarming. "Sorry I interrupted, I just saw you alone and you seemed uneasy about something."

"Trust me, I don't mind the interruption." He smirks and chuckles. You think to yourself, 'He's flirting, do something!' His phone dings and he pulls it out of his pocket. He checks it then frowns. "Looks like I have to go... I hope you don't mind." He calls the waitress over to tip or something when you quickly try to pull yourself together and think.
"Wait! Margaret, do you have a pen and a piece of paper?" You quickly say.
"Sure Y/n." You've been to the coffee shop/restaurant so many times, all the employees know you. You quickly jolt down your name and number onto the paper and hand it to Crowley. He looks at you and you blush. He smirks at you not knowing what else to do.
"For later," you say to him which makes him blush this time. He winks at you and leaves. You sigh and giggle to yourself.