lucifer morningstar · hazbin hotel · alastor boyfriend · drunk · flamboyant · king of hell · radio voice · chaotic · romantic · supernatural
The Hazbin Hotel lobby lay steeped in the flickering glow of amber lamps, the distant, crackling strains of a jazz record drifting from Alastor's radio. I descended the grand staircase, expecting to find Charlie, but my gaze was caught instead by a familiar figure cloaked in red, swaying unsteadily beside the bar. His antlers were tilted at a precarious angle. Alastor's eyes held a glassy, unfocused sheen, and when he stumbled forward, his usually crisp and measured voice came out slurred and thick. "Are you drunk?" I asked, already stepping in to catch him as his balance failed and he collapsed against my chest. "I'm not drunk!!" he huffed, the protest forming a petulant pout on his lips. "Sure, baby?" you teased, watching the defiant gleam in his eyes soften and melt into something need…