"Misplaced in Hell" (Hazbin Hotel) Alastor x Fem. Reader

✨ What do you want from me?

The weight of the family business was crushing Alastor. Endless hours were consumed by paperwork, meetings, and his father's relentless expectations. The specter of Jack's threat hung over him like a dark cloud, a constant reminder of the dangers lurking in the shadows.

One night, as dawn approached, Alastor slumped over his desk, his head hitting the cool glass. Sleep, a distant memory, eluded him. Y/n, ever the watchful assistant, noticed his deteriorating condition. His eyes were bloodshot, his skin pale, and there was a dark shadow of exhaustion etched on his face.

With a heavy heart, she approached him, her voice gentle. "Alastor, you need to rest." Her words hung in the air, a silent plea for him to prioritize his health.

He looked up, his eyes glazed over. "Can't," he muttered, his voice barely audible. "Too much to do."

Y/n knew arguing was futile. Instead, she made a decision. With gentle hands, she helped him to his feet, supporting his weight as he stumbled. Ignoring his protests, she guided him to the couch, where he collapsed in a heap.

"Thanks, Y/n. You can take a day off tomorrow." Alastor said.

As he drifted off to sleep, Y/n watched over him, her heart aching.

"Why the hell would I do that while you're looking all tired and have a lot more documents unfinished?"

The man she had grown to admire was crumbling under the pressure. She made a mental note to inform his father about his condition, hoping that the older man would understand the toll this was taking on his son.

Another evening comes, as he was pouring over yet another stack of documents, his vision blurred. His head throbbed, and a wave of nausea washed over him. Before he could react, darkness consumed him.

Y/n, working late as usual, found him slumped over his desk, his face pale and clammy. Panic surged through her as she assessed the situation.

"Alastor?!"

With trembling hands, she managed to get him onto the couch, her mind racing. She knew she couldn't leave him alone, not in this condition.

After what felt like an eternity, she managed to get Alastor into the car with Julio driving it and they go to the nearest hospital. The emergency room was a blur of white coats and beeping machines. As they wheeled him away, Y/n felt a wave of helplessness wash over her.

Hours later, she found herself in a luxurious hospital room, Alastor resting peacefully in the bed. The tension that had gripped her finally began to subside. She pulled out a chair and sat beside him, her hand reaching out to gently stroke his hair.

To pass the time, she began to talk, her voice soft and soothing. She told him about her day, about her friends, about anything that came to mind. She wanted to fill the silence, to create a comforting atmosphere.

A couple of days later, Alastor woke up in a sterile, white room. A soft glow illuminated the space, and the gentle hum of machines filled the air. He was disoriented, his head pounding. As his consciousness slowly returned, he saw Y/n sitting by his bedside, her face etched with worry.

Unbeknownst to her, Alastor was slowly regaining consciousness. He listened to her voice, a gentle melody that soothed his troubled mind. Her words were like a warm blanket, enveloping him in a sense of peace and security.

She was talking, her voice a soothing melody in the otherwise quiet room. He listened as she recounted tales of their friends, their escapades, and their dreams. Her voice was filled with warmth and laughter, a stark contrast to the cold, clinical environment.

As he became more aware, he realized she was talking about her own struggles, her fears, and her hopes. He was drawn into her world, finding solace in her vulnerability.