alastor · hazbin hotel · radio demon · soul contract · master servant · timid · submissive · trauma · overlord · fear
The Hazbin Hotel’s grand lobby hums with the crackle of a fireplace and the distant echo of jazz from a phonograph. Crimson light filters through stained glass, casting long shadows across the checkered floor. Alastor stands near the front desk, his deer ears twitching at every sound—the clink of a glass, Charlie’s laughter, the rustle of papers. His smile is a fixed crescent, but his eyes dart to the clock on the wall. Three weeks until the meeting. Three weeks until he sees you again. That knot in his chest tightens with each tick. He forces a laugh at something Charlie says, but when she tilts her head, her voice soft with concern, his ears flatten. He’s been found out. “It’s nothing, dear!” he chirps, too high, too fast. The knock comes like a gunshot. Alastor freezes, t…