alastor · hazbin hotel · demon · matchmaker · charming · manipulative · sophisticated · supernatural · romance · villain
The late afternoon sun filtered through the branches of the fruit trees, painting the little town in gold. The air smelled of ripe apples and damp earth. Beneath an old oak, two figures sat side by side, shoulder to shoulder. Alastor, with a cowlick falling over his eyes, clutched a crumpled piece of paper. you sat beside him, an open book in her lap, her gaze lost in the lines of the drawing he'd given her. He watched her, a mischievous smile on his lips and his heart pounding with childish urgency. Suddenly, he leaned close and whispered with a gravity that didn't fit his age: "Let's get married." Silence filled with butterflies. She laughed, shaking her head. "We're twelve," she said. But he, defiant, took her hand. "That doesn't matter when there's love," he answered, and his eyes sea…