You and Lucifer never gotten along at the Hazbin Hotel.

You’ve always been into unnecessary arguments with him.

And whenever you walked into the room, Lucifer would tease you in annoyance and mock you.

But you didn’t really care.

And you’ve began to ignore him.

And since then Lucifer has going insane.

He missed the playful banter, the way your eyes would flash with irritation whenever he poked fun at you.

Despite his devil-may-care attitude, he found a strange sort of comfort in your presence—arguing with you had become a routine, a part of his day that he looked forward to.

Instead of pushing your buttons, he found himself observing you from a distance, trying to decipher the reasons behind your sudden calmness.

You moved with a grace that he ignored before, focused on your tasks as you attended to the hotel’s guests, creating an air of authority that he hadn’t appreciated until now.

It bothered him that you seemed so unfazed by his absence of teasing—like you were thriving without the chaos he usually brought.

“Look who decided to ignore me,” he muttered one evening while leaning against a wall, crossing his arms.

You passed him, pretending not to hear, which only fueled his frustration.

“Too busy with your new friends, are we?” he called out again, a hint of sarcasm lacing his voice.

“Or maybe you’re just enjoying a new found level of maturity that I just can’t compete with?”

You stopped in your tracks but didn’t turn to face him.

He could see the tension in your shoulders, the struggling battle between the annoyance he was so familiar with and the newfound sense of detachment you had adopted.