(O/C) = other color

"What's your favorite color?"

"Umm... (F/C), probably."

"Is that why you bought your dress in that color?" Alastor inquired.

To that, you nodded. "Why are you asking?"

"About your favorite color? Why, I'm only wondering," Alastor replied, shrugging a bit. You looked up at him, studying his fluffy ears. "It's quite funny... I've already slept with you and I don't know the first thing about you."

You made a pfft sound and looked at your feet, feeling a blush creep to your cheeks and trying to hide it. His flirty/teasing tone made you feel queasy, but in a good way, since it wasn't something you felt often.

"Well, you didn't sleep with me," you said.

"Yes I did. Quite literally, actually."

"Right, I see your point, but you didn't sleep with me as in fuck me. You just... literally slept in the same bed as me."

Alastor smirked down at you, chuckling deeply. "Of course. That's what I meant, my love."

The two of you were walking through the woods, enjoying some alone time. After breakfast, Alastor had suggested showing you around his favorite place in hell, which was, in fact, the massive collection of trees that stood around the outskirts of the town.

(You were glad it was daytime, or else you probably would have declined his offer. You weren't ready to face a dark forest, not so soon after your murder.)

It was peaceful, and you really did like passing the time with Alastor. The conversation between you two hadn't died down since you left the breakfast place.

"What's your favorite color?" you asked with a grin, nudging his elbow softly.

Alastor looked down at his suit, then back at you, his grin glimmering expectantly.

"Red?" you guessed.

Alastor looked satisfied. "Correct! How could you tell?"

You giggled, rolling your eyes at his words. "Whatever," you muttered, but you were still smiling.

"I mean, it's quite obvious, I wear the same color clothes every day," he continued, looking down at you. "Really. What did you expect me to say, green?"

"Okay, okay, I get it! Jeez," you laughed. "You were the one who started asking about colors."

"I asked because I honestly had no clue what you were going to say," Alastor said, defending himself. "I had no way to know that your favorite color was (F/C). Maybe you bought your dress in (F/C) because they were out of (O/C) dresses. You, on the other hand, had more than enough information to make an educated guess."

You huffed, but the smile was not wiped from your face. You noticed how that had been happening lately; you were constantly smiling around Alastor. "Literally everything down here is red! Should I just assume everyone's favorite color is red?"

"Maybe. Or you could go around asking everyone what their favorite color is."

"Yeah, let me just get right on that."

Alastor laughed, but then a moment of silence fell between you. It wasn't awkward or uncomfortable, though. It was rather nice. Just having Alastor in your company was enough for you.

"You know, (Y/N), you are quite a mystery to me."

"What? A mystery?" You frowned as you stepped on a weak tree branch, feeling it crack beneath your foot. "How?"

He answered your question with a different one. "Why are you walking with me right now?"

"Uhh, because I have nothing else to do." Your sentence ended in an upward slope, like it was a question.

"Is that really why?"

You thought about that. No, that really wasn't why. You could be doing a number of other things, like hanging out with Charlie and Vaggie at the hotel, or checking out any one of the numerous strip clubs in the vicinity, but you wanted to be with Alastor. You liked him. He was fun, and generous, and interesting (and he bought you pancakes). His good qualities were so good that you were able to look past the fact that he had an outstandingly terrible reputation. "No," you finally decided, crossing your arms over your chest. "Not really, actually."

"Then why, my love?"

You looked at him, making sure to narrow your eyes. You couldn't answer his question honestly. That would make you seem weird, for taking such a liking to this strange demon in such a short time. So you did the next best thing—you changed the subject. "Why do you call me that? My love, my dear... that kind of stuff. We aren't in a relationship or anything."

"Not yet," Alastor asserted quietly, and when you looked at his cheshire cat smile, you blushed again. He was so unspeakably handsome, but not in the way that most men were.

He was different.

You began to stutter, not sure what to say to that. Alastor saved you by speaking up again, but after he finished speaking, you only felt more uneasy. "You don't have to answer the question anymore, dear. I think I know why you're with me."

☆

☆ Alastor's POV, present tense

At first, I thought she was just another demon.

She still is just another demon. She died like all the rest of them—horribly, and after committing at least one sin terrible enough to damn her soul to hell.

But what she did, at least from her point of view, was nothing but a mistake. She didn't want to murder anyone. Her soul is... well... innocent, to say the least. That's what makes her different from all of the other hooligans I have crossed paths with down here.

She's almost like a fallen angel.

Especially compared to someone like me.

I want to know everything about her, to find out every single detail about her life back when she was living. I don't know why I'm so curious, I guess I just want to know if she was a bad person or if it really was all just a mistake.

I'm not the type of person to showcase my feelings. I always grin, and I enjoy singing, so everyone assumes that I'm nothing but a gleeful psychopath who takes pleasure in smiling and killing people. It's fairly easy to maintain the act, actually.

But sometimes, when I look at (Y/N), I just want to hold her by the face, stare into her (surprisingly beautiful) purple eyes and read her mind. Just to find out.

She makes me feel so unusual, and I don't know why, which only frustrates me. It's almost like I met her in a past life and I already know all of her secrets, but just can't remember them.

I don't know much about her, other than the story she told me of her death. I guess I could add her favorite color to that list, too.

There is one thing that I do know for sure.

I know that I can't let her slip out of my grasp before I know everything about her.

I can't let the angels above realize that her soul is innocent and take her to heaven.

I can't let her leave before I know why she makes me feel so flustered.

☆

☆ Second person POV, past tense

"I'm kind of in the mood for a drink."

You uncrossed your arms as you and Alastor walked back into the city, leaving the trees behind you. He looked down at you, processing your words. You had announced that in hopes that he would offer to take you to get something to drink.

"Really?" Alastor asked. "Well in that case, would you care to join me for a drink?"

You beamed, happy with his response. "It would be a pleasure."

"The pleasure is all mine," he countered, holding out a hand for you to take. Such a gentleman, you thought, taking his palm in yours.

You walked down the street hand in hand, passing demons and cars and buildings. People glanced your way, shooting a mixture of looks that varied from disgust to awe to flirty smirks. You ignored most of them, especially the look a cat-like demon with sneaky eyes flashed you—a toothy, and provocative, grin.

When you approached the door of a small bar, you felt relieved to finally go inside.

The air in the bar was cool against your skin, but it was full of noise. There were demons all over the place. Not that it was overly crowded, but still, you could only imagine what it must have been like when the sky got dark.

Most of the demons were sitting at the bar or clustered around a poole table in the center of the room. Someone was sitting on top of the pool table, a woman, it looked like, with large, curly blonde hair that appeared fake. You wondered if it was a wig.

The woman was wearing a skin tight, sleeveless pink dress, and you saw that she had four arms, and... wait.

The realization hit you like the front of a semi-truck.

"Angel Dust?" you asked, loud enough for him to hear and turn his head so he could look at you. Some demons around the table looked over at you, too, and it made you flush a bit with embarrassment.

To your relief, Angel grinned. "Hey... you!" he chirped happily, crossing his legs over the table and leaning forward. "What's your name again? I don't think I got it earlier."

"(Y/N)." You took a few steps closer to Angel, pulling Alastor along with you, who was still holding your hand. "I... you look great."

"Well thanks, babe!" He then stood up from the table and closed most of the remaining distance between the two of you. "I love your dress. It's so in-season! Where'd you get it?"

"I think it's from... I'm not sure," you replied, trying to remember the name of the store you and Alastor went to earlier. "Holster's, I think?"

Angel's friendly expression suddenly melted into something more sinister. At first, you were taken aback, but not for long. You saw the insult coming before Angel even started speaking. "You here that, boys?" Angel leaned on one hip, straightening his shoulders so he could look down at you. "She got it from Holster's."

You were stumped. What's wrong with that?

"What a fucking whore!" someone behind Angel shouted. You immediately felt your heart pulse a wave of confusion through your body, which felt stiff as a board, but you tried not to show it in your expression.

"The anorexic bitch looks like a wannabe prostitute," someone else added in. "But she's definitely too ugly to get any dick."

Angel grimaced at you, seemingly enjoying the rude comments being thrown around. You could feel Alastor's hand tighten around yours, and you wished that you could say something, but your breath felt like it was stuck in your throat, holding down every word you wanted to spit at his pretty face.

And then you watched as Angel's eyes raked over Alastor's tall figure. Angel bit his lip.

You felt an unexpected shot of sour jealousy pour through your veins like hot syrup.

"And who is this?" he asked, staring at Alastor, who seemed like he was nothing but uncomfortable. "You look delicious." He turned to face you again. "Would you mind if I took this handsome gentleman off your hands?"

Something inside of you snapped. "Oh my god, will you fuck off?" you hissed.

Angel looked surprised for a second, but then he laughed, and it sounded sweet and smooth and feminine, which only pissed you off more. "Awww, am I making you mad? Do you need to go calm down so you can think of a clever insult to say?"

Your mouth was agape as you stared at the spider, but you quickly shook your shock off. It was replaced with fuming rage.

"Fine," you practically growled. "But just so you know... you can push your tits up as much as you'd like, but they'll never be big enough to distract anyone from the fact that your personality is uglier than a pile of week-old roadkill."

You didn't look twice to see Angel's reaction. Instead, you let go of Alastor's hand and stormed out of the bar, feeling the beginnings of tears spring to your eyes.

☆

[ OH MY GOD guys i'm sorry i love Angel and i hated writing that last part but... gotta have some tea u know. hope ya'll like the story so far, thanks for the love :3 ]