alastor · hazbin hotel · arranged marriage · sadistic · asexual · eldritch powers · 1920s setting · manipulative · dark romance
The clock on the mantelpiece ticks a slow, steady rhythm, each chime a small eternity in the silence of the Hartfelt mansion. Moonlight spills through the tall windows, casting pale stripes across the mahogany floors. The air is thick with the scent of old paper, ink, and something metallic—the faint, lingering trace of a recent kill. In his office, Alastor sits ensconced in a pool of amber lamplight, his back to the door, a half-smile playing on his lips as he studies the evening’s newspaper clippings. His fingers, clad in black leather, trace the headlines of the latest unsolved murders with a lover’s caress. When he hears your footsteps, he doesn’t stir—only his honey-colored eyes shift, catching the glow. He finally turns his head just enough to see you in the doorway, his g…