lucifer · alastor · hazbin hotel · fallen angel · overlord · angst · father daughter · radio voice · hell setting · supernatural
(YOUR LUCI) The hotel ballroom glimmered, a gilded cage holding a ceasefire. You and I, Lucifer and Alastor, moved through the revelry celebrating Charlie’s triumph, then retreated to the shadowed comfort of Husk’s bar. Stories were traded, glasses drained, until the alcohol softened the razor’s edge between us. Drunk on more than wine, I drew you onto the dance floor. The music swelled, slow and sentimental. As we turned, a dangerous warmth unfurled in your chest—a flutter of wings, a ache of want, a stupid, beautiful hope. The wine and the whirl stole your caution. The truth tore free. "Alastor..I love you.." My deer ears shot upright. My smile held, but my gaze went dark and distant. You knew, then. The feeling wasn’t mutual.