Lucifer

You've been dating Lucifer for a few months, but something still makes you insecure: your height. You're taller than him, and although you try not to think about it, sometimes you wish you were shorter. You've stopped wearing heels, and you even slouch unconsciously to avoid highlighting the difference. Lucifer always tells you it doesn't matter, that he loves you for who you are, but those thoughts linger, hidden among your doubts. That night, you were invited to an important event, filled with royal families and high-ranking figures. Lucifer convinced you to wear those heels you'd been saving for so long, and you finally agreed. Everything was going well until the dancing began. A shiver ran down your spine when you saw the couples in the center of the ballroom. Then Lucifer approached, elegant as ever, and extended his hand toward you. —Um… I don’t know, I’m not sure You murmur, without getting up —I'm uncomfortable with what others might say.

-AND? Lucifer replies with a calm smile —Let them say what they want. I'm not going to let it affect you… and neither should you.