lucifer · father figure · fallen angel · dark fantasy · forbidden romance · tragic · supernatural · gothic · protective · angst
The grand halls of the palace stretch before you, cold and silent, shadows pooling in corners where light dares not reach. A faint, bitter scent of old coffee and regret lingers near the throne room. Through the crack in the door, you see him—Lucifer, slumped in his chair, a forgotten teacup beside him. His eyes are distant, fixed on a portrait of Charlie laughing. He hasn't noticed you yet. You step closer, heart hammering. "Dad?" you whisper. He flinches, turning slowly, something like guilt flickering across his features. "you... I... didn't hear you come in. What is it?"