Requested by cl0ud_24
Pairing: *Y/N x Alastor*
*Summary: In there human years, Y/N and Alastor were lovers, but when death had snuck upon them, they were separated for centuries. And one day, Y/N stumbles into Hazbin Hotel to look for redemption, meeting Alastor, though she has no memory of him...*
LISTEN TO THE SONG ABOVE WHILE READING. It really sets the mood of this story.
*Y/N's POV*
You couldn't understand it. You didn't know why exactly your soul was sent down to Hell, when you had died centuries ago from an accident. But...until just last week, you couldn't do anything to get out of Hell. You were stuck here, your mind replaying each one of your human memories, trying to find something that'll give you reason as to why you were sent to Hell.
You weren't a sinful person, at least, you don't think you were. So, ending up down in a place like Hell made absolute no sense to you.
You had died in the year of 1933 due to an accident while you were walking through your hometown in New Orleans. But now, you can't say for sure, it's 2024.
You have been down in Hell for quite a long time, trying your best to stay away from other demons who mean harm and destruction. You've spent your century hiding in shadows of crumbling buildings, corners of unactive streets.
You didn't really have a home.
That is until, just one week ago, it was announced on 666 News that the princess of Hell, Charlie Morningstar, was opening a rehabilitation hotel for sinners to give up their life of sinful actions to try and get their souls redeemed and sent to Heaven.
Hearing this, you for the first time felt hope rise in your chest. You've wanted to get into Heaven since day one, knowing deep down you don't belong here.
So today, you finally find yourself standing at the entrance of the Hazbin Hotel, extending your hands to push the doors open and step inside.
When the doors open, the smells of old furniture, dust, and some faint whiffs of alcohol fill your nose, though you don't seem to mind it. You've smelt worse, being on the streets of Pentagram city.
Your eyes scan the surroundings, seeing a bar to the left side of the room, and a longue on the right, two couches displayed in front of a fireplace with a fire glowing and crackling inside, it's red and orange light casting rays upon the red velvet carpeting.
It's quiet, but the faint sound of an old timey radio plays off towards the corner of the room. Curiosity makes you look, only to see a radio play on a coffee stand, and a tall, slender man sitting in one of the chairs, reading one of Hell's recent Newspapers, black cup of coffee in one hand.
For a moment, you feel a little wave of familiarity. The old radio is exactly the one you used to see in New Orleans when you were alive. A relic...from the 1920s. It made your heart warm softly, before your eyes skim the presence of the man sitting there, who hasn't noticed you yet.
He's tall, his legs crossed over one another, revealing what appears to be red hoof marks at the bottom of his black boots. The tips of his fingers are red and sharp looking, as the rest of his hands are black, making you think that he's wearing gloves.
He wears an old and slightly torn red coat with cufflinks, underneath a red undershirt with two black stripes crossing over one another. Attached to the collar of his coat is a little bow with a red center, and a tainted red glass monocle over one of his eyes.
His hair is red and black, with two little black deer antlers coming out of his skull, in between his two red and black deer ears.
He holds a gentle smile on his face, seeming at peace being alone in the longue reading his newspaper and sipping his black coffee. It had been some time since he actually could rest and enjoy the silence of the hotel.
With Charlie gone on a business trip along with Vaggie, Husker passed out on the floor behind his bar counter, Niffty upstairs hunting bugs, and Angel Dust gone to work, he can finally take a seat and relax, even if it's short lived.
Alastor raises the rim of his cup to his lips, sipping the black coffee, before out of the corner of his eyes, he notices a presence standing there that wasn't there before.
You.
He lowers his newspaper, his attention entirely on you as he takes in who is standing before him. His grin grows a little wider. He's slightly perturbed that quiet time was disturbed, but at the same time, he sees you as a guest...finally someone new. He's grown annoyed of Angel Dust, and there was already bad blood between him and Sir Pentious due to the fact Pentious tore Alastor's coat.
But seeing you here...
"Ah, why hello there!" he sets aside his newspaper, "I'm Alastor, the Radio Demon, how do you do?"
You open your mouth to reply, but he cuts in. "Are you a sinner demon looking for redemption? If so, then I'm sorry to say that you'll have to wait a couple of hours before you can get officially signed up. Charlie, the owner, is currently busy with other matters and won't be back for quite some time. But why don't you come and take a seat? Can I offer any refreshments or possibly some snacks?"
For some reason, listening to his voice, laced with the sound effects of a radio, and an accent that reminds you of how people used to talk back in your era, you can't help but feel...comfortable around him.
Though deep down, he's the most dangerous man to be around. The Radio Demon, Hell's Overlord who slaughtered high ranked Overlords for his mere amusement. The Radio Demon who smiles 24/7 to confuse people, to inspire, to hide his true feelings...
He's well known for his reputation for spreading his carnage through Hell's abandoned radio station. But even with all these facts, you still find yourself sitting on the couch beside his chair, putting your hands in between your knees and staring into the fire.
Alastor sets aside his newspaper, leaning forward to look at you, his smile never wavering, but his chest feeling...something.
He can't quite put his finger on it, but when he first laid his crimson eyes on you, he couldn't help but feel a wave of familiarity in his chest. Which is unusual to him, and not his character. In truth, he doesn't recall ever seeing your face in Hell before, which has him asking...
"If you don't mind me asking, but how long have you been in Hell?"
Are you a new fallen soul? Or have you been here for some time, and he's never noticed? Well, in truth, Alastor has been absent of Hell for seven years, until just last week. Perhaps you had arrived during the time he was away? But why does he continue to feel this familiar sense of knowing you somehow...if he's never met you?
You meet his gaze. "I've been here a long time. Since 1933," you reply, looking away, missing his shocked expression in that spilt second when you gave him the answer to his question.
A demoness sitting across from him, who died the same year as he did? What a twist of fate. He hasn't met anyone--beside Mimzy--who died in the same era as he did. More and more questions began to fill his head. He wanted to know where you used to live, who were you, how you died. All these questions wanting to burst through his lips.
Though out of respect of just meeting you--and the fact that Charlie demanded that he doesn't scare any arrivals away--Alastor doesn't ask you any personal questions such as the ones running through his head.
But he does ask you this one question.
"What is your name?"
"Y/N," you respond, meeting his gaze once again, your chest seeming to feel heavy as you stare into his crimson eyes. For some strange reason...seeing his smile, it's almost as if you've seen that smile somewhere else, in a different time, though you have no recognition of such things. You have seen demons spray-paint Alastor's grinning face on the backside of buildings, perhaps that's why his smile seems familiar?
It's hard to say...but you're leaning towards more the latter.
Y/N. The name repeats itself in Alastor's head, as he searches each corner of his mind for any memory that is attached to your name and face.
And then, it finally clicks within his mind. He finds the memories of when he was a young man in his twenties, back when he had owned one of New Orleans most listened to radio station.
He can remember the hot summer day, the smells of wildflowers and mild smoke from fires to cook food in town. He remembers seeing you...a young, beautiful woman, who managed to take his breath away for the first time in his life.
The two of you were lovers in your human years, the days spent side by side, with dreams and visions for the future the two of you wanted to bring to life. So many nights the two of you spent on top of his roof, playing little games of connect-the-stars, his arms wrapped around you, breathing in the sweet scent in your hair. Such perfect, beautiful memories he's pushed to the back of his mind for so long.
But fate had different plans, for you had passed away, and he was mistaken for a deer and shot in the head. He always believed your soul was sent to Heaven, because he had not seen you in Hell. But seeing you now, sitting before him, a demoness, it shocks him.
How could you have come down here? How could have someone like you be in a place like this?
It makes him want to cry, though he fights to keep his composure, and remain steady.
"Y/N," he repeats your name, his smiling softening even more, "that's a beautiful name," he whispers, the desire to reach out and hold you in his arms once again burning within him, but the look of hesitation in your eyes makes him feel a tinge of worry in his chest.
Do you not remember him?
Alastor licks his lips, bracing himself to deliver this next question without sounding too suspicious. "If I may ask, have we met before?"
You stare at him in silence for a few moments, trying to find the answer in your brain. You almost want to respond with a yes, but at the same time, you can't. You truly...do not know this man. Though deep down being near him feels so familiar to you, you can't find any memory with him or recall any moment of seeing his face in Hell or in your human years.
You finally shake your head, without seeing the slice of pain flash before his face, and the little inhale of breath.
You don't remember him...the truth of it hitting him hard in his chest, breaking his heart. He had loved you so much when he was alive, and deep down, seeing you again made him fall in love all over again, and you can't even remember the love you had felt for him, or see him as someone you used to know.
He inhales another breath, before rising to his feet, lifting you up as well. The touch of your hands in his sends another wave of warmth and pain flood his chest, his mind filling with the memories of the times he would take your hand in his, caress your knuckles, kiss your lips.
Alastor's smile begins to waver, and he strains to keep it from falling. He doesn't want his pain to be revealed...
"Well, how about you go upstairs and pick out a room of your liking?" he says, turning you and softly pushing you towards the staircase that'll take you up to the next five stories of the hotel. "I'll be the first to tell you when Charlie arrives. For now, go and get settled."
You take a few steps, before looking over your shoulder at him, a little confused as to why he suddenly wanted you to leave when just five minutes ago he wanted you to sit at the couch beside him.
You watch as he sits back down, noticing how his fingers squeeze the armrests of his chair a little tighter than usual. You wonder what had happened, if something you said upset him, or if it was something else.
Deep down, you feel a little bad if you did something wrong, but you know there's nothing you can do to help. That in a moment like this, it's best to give someone their space. So, you turn, and begin to walk out of the longue and up the stairs.
As your back is to Alastor, you don't notice him peak around the corner of his chair, staring back at you with saddened eyes, watching you until you have completely disappeared from his view.
Silence fills the longue again, and it is at that moment when he raises his hands to his face and begins to cry softly, for the first time in centuries.
In truth, Alastor could have easily reminded you of your memories, told you about your past, and how the two of you were in love in your human years, but deep down, he didn't.
He knows that it wouldn't be right to do it. Not to someone like you. In his human years, he wasn't all he appeared to be. He was a monster. A hunter, serial killer.
Alastor murdered people in the dark swamps of New Orleans, claiming that he was going on his monthly hunting trips when you would ask where he was going. He's lied to you about who he really was...
But he never, ever, lied to you about his feelings. How much you made his life better, how deeply he loved you. You were his entire world, the one he wanted to marry, the one he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.
Though he can't deny the one crucial fact.
He doesn't deserve you. He was selfish...knowing that you deserved a good-hearted man, not someone who hid who he was from you.
So that is why, in that moment when you were sitting with him, he pretended that he didn't know you. Because he knows--even though it hurts him so fucking much--it's the right thing to do. To let go...to let you go.
Alastor will never change the man he is, he will always be a cold-blooded, murderer, a deal maker. Insanity...it's engraved in him. He can't change that.
He wants your soul to be lifted to Heaven's pearly white gates. And he knows that if he told you about your past with him, it would only anchor you down in this realm. You don't belong here...you belong in Heaven.
Though Alastor belongs here. He will never be redeemed; he doesn't even want to be redeemed.
It will be hard for him, seeing your face every day at the hotel, but he'll keep his mask on, and try to bury the past the two of you shared.
He'll play along and pretend he doesn't know anything about you. He'll let you go...
And you will go around, catching glimpses of his presence, finding yourself repeating the same question in your head.
"Have we met before?"
THANKS FOR READING!
PART TWO COMING SOON!!