Caught in the Butterfly's Web (Hazbin Hotel x (y/n)

The Terror of the Butterfly Demon

Alastor woke with a yawn, reaching out instinctively to pull (Y/n) close, only to find her side of the bed empty beside him. Frowning, he sat up, scanning the room for any sign of her. His heart sank as he noticed the dim glow of the lamp emanating from her office.

He made his way over quietly, the soft sound of the sewing machine confirming his suspicion. Pushing open the door, he found (Y/n) hunched over her work, her brow furrowed in concentration. The room was filled with the rhythmic hum of the sewing machine, punctuated by the occasional frustrated sigh.

Alastor approached her cautiously, a sense of unease settling over him as he took in her tense posture. He knew all too well that she was stressing over something, the exterminations always made her stress as she worried for her vast amount of employees, the weight of responsibility that weighed on her shoulders, especially with the looming threat of the Exorcists returning sooner than expected.

"(Y/n)?" he said softly, stepping closer to her. "Are you alright?"

She looked up, her eyes tired but determined. "I'm fine," she replied, though her voice betrayed her true feelings. "Just trying to stay ahead of things."

Alastor studied her for a moment, his heart aching at the sight of her obvious distress. He knew that she carried the burden of protecting the hotel and its inhabitants, and he admired her strength and resilience in the face of adversity.

"You don't have to do this alone, you know," he said gently, reaching out to place a comforting hand on her shoulder. "You have me right by your side my dear."

(Y/n) stood up from her sewing, her fists clenched at her sides as she glared at Alastor. The frustration and anger radiated from her in waves, her voice sharp and filled with emotion. "I was alone," she spat, her words cutting through the air like a knife. "Left for seven years to face exterminations by myself. Do you have any idea what that was like?" She wrapped her arms around herself, "I'm tired of watching those things tear everything apart."

Alastor recoiled slightly, taken aback by the intensity of her outburst. He had seen her angry before, but never like this. Her pain was palpable, raw and unfiltered.

"I-I'm sorry," he stammered, his own guilt weighing heavily on him. "I never meant to leave you alone. I thought... I thought you would be okay, I was trying to protect you."

"Protecting me?" (Y/n) scoffed, her voice dripping with bitterness. "From what? From the truth? From the fact that you abandoned me when I needed you the most? That you still refuse to tell me what happened in those seven years."

As (Y/n) continued to argue with him, Alastor met her angry eyes and thought back to a fateful day when he held her, bleeding in his arms as angels descended upon them. The memory was etched into his mind, haunting him like a relentless specter. He could vividly recall the sight of her pale face, her blood staining his hands as he desperately tried to stop the bleeding and fend off their attackers. The fear and helplessness he had felt in that moment were overwhelming, a stark reminder of his failure to protect her. It was a memory only he knew of.

"Alastor! Stop smiling at me! Just stop pretending everything is okay whilst you think of god damned sweet words to get yourself out of telling me the truth!" The sound of her voice snapped him back to the present, her words cutting through the haze of his memories. But the echoes of that day lingered in his mind, a constant reminder of the pain he had caused her. Why couldn't he ever keep his one promise? To keep her safe.

Alastor's gaze softened as he looked at (Y/n), her eyes a mix of hurt and sadness, a surge of guilt washing over him. He knew that he couldn't erase the past, couldn't undo the mistakes he had made. But he vowed to do everything in his power to make things right, to ensure that she never had to suffer like that again.