𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐌𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐆𝐀𝐙𝐄 ★Alastor x fem! reader★🥀

Ch. XXIII ✡Stars In Her Eyes✡

(A/N! Comment the links to your favorite outfits! Reminder: This is a Zestial's daughter Y/N, which means the style of clothes would be around 17th to 18th century. Just an A/N! Can't wait to see the outfit pictures you'll come up with! Enjoy the chapter as it has been long awaited...)

A GENTLE HAND BRUSHES ALONG THE BACK OF YOUR HEAD, your feet swiftly leading you to where the grand clock tower stands in Pentagram's city center.
You agreed to meet Alastor here hours ago, and though you may be fashionably late by a few minutes, you won't back out of your agreement with him. 

Father always warned you that curiosity killed the cat, let's hope this curiosity won't kill you.

The closer you get to the clock tower, you begin to see the glowing eyes belonging to a familiar silhouette.
Your steps become hesitant, knowing that Alastor waits dead ahead of you...you don't particularly know why you feel so...nervous? Anxious? It's a little ridiculous. 

You've been Alastor's acquaintance for a while now...you're used to his mysterious, shady presence. You've welcomed it into your days without being in fear of him.
So why do your steps come to a slow, and you simply stare at his red and black tipped hair blow gently with Hell's breeze, his hand gingerly playing with one of the flowers he picked from a flowerbox beside him? 

And why...does your heart pound at the sight of it?
You shake your head. "Stop being stupid," you whisper distastefully under your breath, a slight knock to the side of your head with your fist, in attempt to physically knock the unnecessary thoughts out of your brain. 

There is no better explanation then simply the truth of still being surprised from his gift earlier at the ball, and the fact that he requested to meet you here when everyone else is laid in their beds to slumber for the night. Minus the few demon crackheads and sleazeballs scattered like roaches here and there.

This sort of behavior is suspicious. Then again, anyone with a right frame of mind would be wary of Alastor.

You inhale a breath. If you've killed demons and Angels and faced Adam head on in battle...then this is nothing.
With your hands gently clasped over one another in a regal way, you continue your way forward to where Alastor stands, filling his time with minor glances around his surroundings and bored picking at flowers while he waits for you. 

"Hello, Alastor," you speak in your normal tone, hands still remaining clasped, though shifting to be clasped behind your back instead of at your stomach.
Alastor's neck snaps backwards in a demonic way upon hearing your voice, and you can't help but flinch at hearing the grotesque pop and the fact that his eyes are staring into yours...while his back remains facing you.

Without thinking, Alastor's eyes drift down to your chest, and to his joy, you're still wearing the ruby necklace he gave you. 
After he had given it to you, he feared you would take it off and toss it to the side like its significance and meaning meant nothing to you. He's pleased to see you hadn't...for the qualities in the color red...are the qualities he sees in you. The truer colors you're slowly beginning to show more and more throughout the days spent at the hotel.

"Ah, Y/N my dear, so glad you could make it...fashionably late, I might add," he gives you a playful wink, and you chuckle.
"Better late than never, am I right?" You respond with a quirk of your eyebrow.

"I suppose so," he extends a hooked arm towards you, an invitation for you to snake his arm around his. "Shall we?" 
You take his arm. The moment your hand grasps the fabric of his coat, you instantly feel yourself fall through Hell's surface, the sounds of wind and whispering ringing in your ears as a world of black surrounds you.