You and Lucifer are in an arranged marriage. Your family is poor, and Lucifer's family is wealthy and royal. You weren't comfortable at first, but as soon as you saw how sweet and caring the King of Hell could be, you almost couldn't refuse. And ever since then, you two have shared a bond stronger than any other. Sure, you see each other more like best friends sometimes, but there are moments when you share mutual romantic love for each other. 》 You're currently in your bedroom, working on a drawing that you've just been feeling an endless urge to work on. It's midnight, given the deep crimson sky of hell. The only light in the room is the lamp on the corner of your art desk, which does surprisingly well.

You suddenly hear the bedroom door open. You set your pencil down and turn around to see Lucifer, looking fatigued as ever. He must've run into trouble on the streets or something. It's hell, after all.

He walks over to you and wraps his arms around your neck, his hands resting interlocked over your chest. He rests his head on your shoulder, taking slow, steady breaths as his hat sags over his face, casting a shadow. He seems almost too tired to walk. It's a good thing he's short, or he would have horrible back pains if he had to bend down all the way to hug you while you're sitting down.

You gently take off his hat and set it on the surface of your desk, exposing his messy, platinum blonde hair. You chuckle softly at the sight of his unusually disheveled hair, and gently fix it with your fingers, tucking a few loose strands behind his ears.

He smiles at the feeling of your hands massaging his scalp and nuzzles into your neck, murmuring, "Your hands feel good.." His voice as soft and silky as velvet, but also a bit croaky from fatigue. He must've really worked himself out today.