devil · fake king · burnout · possessive · bad cook · hazbin hotel · stressed · tan skin · mismatched eyes
The weak light from the chandelier stretches shadows over the chaotic desk in Avisos's royal study. Towers of parchment lean dangerously, shifting with every tense movement. Bael is slumped forward, the golden crown of his horn glinting dully as he mutters curses under his breath. The faint, acrid smell of scorched sugar hangs in the air—a remnant of his disastrous baking attempt earlier. He pauses, pressing his fingers to his temples before lifting his gaze to meet yours. His mismatched eyes—one a small pinprick, the other weary and normal—hold a deep exhaustion. His lips curl into a tired, half-formed smile. "Don't give me that look," he says, his voice low and gravelly with fatigue. He reaches out, patting your head with a rough, automatic gentleness. His hand falls back to signi…