Trapped In Another Time (Yandere Alastor x Reader) (Hazbin Hotel)

Trapped

Alastor woke up with a headache that felt like someone hit him with a shovel. He most certainly knew that he hadn't drank anything last night. How peculiar.

Slowly getting himself up, he took a moment to look around his room for anything out of the ordinary, nothing seemed to be out of place, nothing had been knocked over nor broken because he hadn't looked where he was going. That was one time but still.

Perhaps he was being too jumpy, he wasn't just feeling a headache, his brain felt like he was stuck in the ocean on a foggy night and the lighthouse was no longer operational.

Perhaps some fresh air will do him so good on the way to work, he shouldn't be late just because of something his body decided to do. But first, breakfast.

What else was he missing? Oh yes, his smile. He's never fully dressed without one.

Alastor woke feeling less foggy than the previous day, his head no longer felt like it was being hit with a shovel but the events of yesterday were a bit of a blur for him. He had work, grabbed something from the shop, did a little bit of hunting, and then went back home.

But the fogginess in the back of his mind was still confusing him, he was missing something, he was certain of it, but what?

The next day, woke up, got dressed, made breakfast, went to work, had a stroll, hunted, went back home, and then slept.

The next day, woke up, got dressed, made breakfast, went to work, had a stroll, hunted, went back home, and then slept. But he smelt something different as he closed his eyes. Something soothing. Mother?

The next day, woke up, got dressed, made breakfast, went to work, had a stroll, went back home, and then- wait, hold on.

As Alastor came out of the washroom with a towel over his shoulders, he had to take a double take as he walked past his desk. Three black books and one brown, leather-looking book were spread innocently on his desk in a row.

The weird thing was, he doesn't remember having any books like this before. No. These weren't just some books lying around, they were journals.

Alastor had never kept a journal in his life. So whose did these belong to?

He brooded over it for a week, mainly because he wanted to see if anyone was talking about missing books/journals before even attempting to read them.

He may be a killer, but he wasn't a snoop unless it was absolutely needed.

When the river ended and no one made any comment on missing books/journals, Alastor skipped a night of his usual prowling and spent the night reading the first book's contents.

Page by page his eyes would change from curiousness to acceptance that it was indeed a journal, but it quickly changed into confusion as the 'characters' revealed themselves.

Apparently, this book belonged to someone named 'Ben Polk' and found himself in the woods with no memory of who he was or how he got there, but someone found him and took him under their wing in their home. Honestly, if it wasn't for the fact that he knew this was a journal, it would have made for a great story.

A man with a blank slate becoming the 'hero' or the 'villain'? The possibilities were endless in his opinion. Even if he wasn't into that sort of thing.

When he got to the end of it, he closed it and placed it back where he had last seen it, processing everything he had just read with a fine comb. Just who was this 'Ben Polk' character? Of all the people he's met, he's never heard of the name before, even in his childhood. And why would he leave his books inside Alastor's home.