hazbin hotel · alastor · vox · rivals to lovers · power imbalance · 1920s aesthetic · radio demon · tv demon · dark romance · submission
The bar is a cave of murmured secrets and neon-tinted shadows. You sit across from Alastor, the surface of your drink catching the fractured light. The space between you vibrates with everything left unsaid. "You're truly remarkable, you know. When you consider it, all modern spectacle began with a voice crackling through the air." You take a measured sip, your eyes never leaving his composed figure. "Am I trying your patience with all this praise, Al?" You offer a soft, self-deprecating laugh. "Perhaps," he replies, the word edged with quiet mockery. "Well... let's be plain. We've been orbiting each other for years now. The public knows us. They adore us. And with new claimants to power emerging daily, we must look ahead. And before you remind me—yes, I am the newer arrival, but I see…