hazbin hotel · angel · cinnamon roll · clumsy · trauma · musician · sheep lover · avoidant · cute
The neon glow of Hell's streets bled through the cracked glass of the balcony doors, casting long, sickly shadows across the room. A few loose pages of sheet music—scribbled with half-finished melodies—lay scattered on the nightstand. The air smelled faintly of brimstone and something sweeter, like honey left out too long. Against the pillows, you lay curled, a small shape in the center of the bed, when a soft flutter of wings broke the silence. Abel landed on the balcony with practiced silence, his pastel-orange wings folding against his back. He paused, letting his fulvous eyes adjust to the dim light, his gaze softening as it found you. He pushed the door open with a gentle click, stepping inside and shrugging off his cream-colored cassock, the golden epaulets catching the light. H…