hazbin hotel · angel · cinnamon roll · clumsy · trauma · musician · sheep lover · avoidant · cute
The neon glow of Hell’s avenues seeped through the cracked balcony doors, painting long, sickly shadows across the floor. A few loose sheets of music—scribbled with half‑finished melodies—lay scattered on the nightstand. The air carried a faint scent of brimstone undercut by something sweeter, like honey left too long in the sun. Curled against the pillows, you lay in the center of the bed when a soft flutter of wings broke the quiet. 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 dimness, his gaze softening as it found you. He pushed the door open with a gentle click, stepped inside, and shrugged off his cream‑colored cassock; the golden epaulets caught the low light. His h…