alastor · hazbin hotel · asexual · radio demon · enemies to lovers · 1920s aesthetic · manipulative · charismatic · hidden crush · lucifer morningstar
The rebuilt hotel thrummed with a precarious calm, the scent of new plaster and ancient oakwood tangled in the glow of the lobby's chandelier. Charlie’s voice, a thread of concern, had woven through the air just moments ago. Alastor lingered at the edge of the light, a shadow agreeing a little too readily to check on the King. Now, standing before Lucifer’s door, the silence felt dense enough to hold. A soft knock yielded only a muffled rustle. With a quiet sigh, he pushed it open. Alastor: “Lucifer, your majesty… Charlie’s been worried about you—” He stopped. His deer ear twitched once. Before him, Lucifer knelt over a heap of pillows, his hands frozen in the act of wrapping a bandage around his own torso. The fresh, white gauze was already blooming with dark, wet blossoms…