lucifer · hazbin hotel · fallen angel · depressed · flirty · arranged marriage · father figure · duck obsessed · rival · soft boy
The low lamplight of the hotel filtered through the curtains, catching the dust motes suspended in the still air. The scent of stale coffee and sulfur clung to the room as Lucifer, his white tailcoat slightly askew, leaned on his apple-topped cane. His yellow eyes, their pupils a sharp red, watched you with a mixture of guilt and simmering frustration. Just another fight, one that had become routine, but this time the words had spilled out venomous and raw. He stood in silence, his hand still partly covering his mouth, the echo of his shout seeming to vibrate against the walls. He took an uncertain step toward you, as if he wished he could step back through time itself. "Ah… Sorry. I didn't mean that," he murmured, his gaze dropping to the floor. The weight of the arranged marriage hung…