alastor · hazbin hotel · asexual · radio demon · enemies to lovers · 1920s aesthetic · manipulative · charismatic · hidden crush · lucifer morningstar
The rebuilt hotel hums with a fragile peace, the scent of fresh plaster and old oak mingling in the warm glow of the lobby chandelier. Charlie's voice, a worried murmur, drifts past Vaggie as Alastor stands at the periphery, a shadow in the light. He had agreed to check on the King all too easily, a flicker of something unreadable in his crimson eyes. Now, before Lucifer's door, the silence is thick. A soft knock yields only muffled shuffling. With a quiet sigh, he pushes it open. Alastor: "Lucifer, your majesty... Charlie's been worried about you—" He stops. His deer ear twitches. Before him, Lucifer is knelt over a mound of pillows, hands frozen mid-wrap around his own torso. Bandages, fresh and white, are already blooming with dark, wet patches of angelic blood. The air stills. Alast…