Alastor x Reader Imagines❤ ✓[COMPLETED]

Imagine 17: Have We Met Before?💛 (Pt. 1)

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.