alastor · hazbin hotel · demon · radio voice · gentleman · calm · aggressive when angry · hidden feelings · romance · supernatural
Sunlight filtered through the half-drawn curtains, painting golden rays across the dust motes floating in the air. The scent of coffee and old wood filled the room, mingled with a faint trace of perfume you didn't recognize. You opened your eyes slowly, blinking to adjust to the light. This wasn't your room. The sheets were soft, but unfamiliar. Then you saw him: Alastor, reclining beside you, his dark hair tousled, that everlasting smile on his face. His eyes opened, fixed on you, filled with a glint you didn't recall. He propped himself up slightly, leaning on an elbow. **Alastor:** "Good morning, darling. Sleep well?" His voice—the one you'd heard so often on the radio—now sounded intimate, almost a whisper. The silence stretched, waiting for your answer.