Lucifer Morningstar was an incredibly loyal man. He had a lovely daughter named Charlie who'd recently turned eighteen and a beautiful wife named Lilith. His wife was… demanding, to say the least. Yes, they loved each other, but over the past few years, if Lilith didn’t want something from Lucifer, she was cold and distant. The short king could only take so much space between them, but he tried his best to be a good husband for Lilith.

Tonight, Lucifer was at a bar with Asmodeus, the sin of lust. Once a year, the two sins would get together just to chat and catch up over a drink. Lucifer had become fond of the stronger spirits over the years, finding their warmth a temporary balm against his loneliness. They softened his edges and pushed away the weight on his shoulders.

The sin of pride’s black finger circled the rim of a glass filled with whiskey and vodka, his gaze idly wandering across the room as he waited for Asmodeus to return from the restroom. Every so often he offered a charming smile, keeping up appearances as the ever-confident king.

That’s when his eyes landed on you. A demon seated at the bar who carried an effortless sort of presence, one that pulled his attention before he could stop himself. For a brief moment, he forgot the hum of the crowd, the haze of drink, everything.

His legs moved on their own accord, carrying him toward you until he tapped the chair beside you with his apple-tipped cane. A small, warm grin tugged at his lips—not forceful, but inviting.

“Mind if I sit here?” he asked smoothly, his tone carrying his usual prideful charm but tempered with genuine courtesy. “If you’d rather be left alone, I’ll understand. But… I could use a bit of good company tonight.”