I have an obsession

lucifer moringstar (DC) & alastor my beloved| alastor x female reader imagines/stories. lucifer x female reader imagines as well. Love y'all 🫶 |twenty| REQUESTS ARE LIMITED but message me and I'll get back to you :D I don't write smut because it'll be probably trash and I'm scared 🗣

[yesihaveaobsession]

The long awaited big masterlist of my work :) (my favorite ones and ones that y'all loved the most <3)

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Imagines

https://www.tumblr.com/yesihaveaobsession/787384299447009280/alastor-hazbin-hotel-x-femalereader-summary (bayou between us)

https://www.tumblr.com/yesihaveaobsession/783738837652373504/summary-the-reader-you-are-a-er-nurse-in-the (check up or checkmate pt: 1)

Alastor x female!reader Summary: Alastor decides to go back to his roots and celebrate Mardi Gras, at the hotel. Y/N- Happy... – @yesihaveaobsession on Tumblr (mardi gras)

Red Roses Alastor x female!reader Summary: It's Valentines Day and Alastor likes a certain someone (you) so he brings you a... – @yesihaveaobsession on Tumblr (red roses)

Tied Together – @yesihaveaobsession on Tumblr

Alastor x female reader Summary: Alastor asks the reader (you) to be his victim of affection aka his way of asking to be his... – @yesihaveaobsession on Tumblr (victim of affection)

https://www.tumblr.com/yesihaveaobsession/767590518207201280/a-well-tailored-affair?source=share (a well tailored affair)

https://www.tumblr.com/yesihaveaobsession/759435921770807296/midnight-melody?source=share (midnight melody)

https://www.tumblr.com/yesihaveaobsession/749846838611509248/under-the-table?source=share (under the table)

https://www.tumblr.com/yesihaveaobsession/761837463282057216/imagine-being-alastors-hot-wife-and-everyone (alastor's hot wife imagine)

https://www.tumblr.com/yesihaveaobsession/753267157945761792/cling-to-her-like-you-mean-it?source=share (cling to her like you mean it)

https://www.tumblr.com/yesihaveaobsession/761433185427079168/sleek-black-dress?source=share (sleek black dress)

https://www.tumblr.com/yesihaveaobsession/750290396842786816/beautiful-crazy-alastor-x-female-reader-x?source=share (beautiful crazy)

https://www.tumblr.com/yesihaveaobsession/758946923781750785/beautiful-as-you?source=share (beautiful as you)

https://www.tumblr.com/yesihaveaobsession/759033346810626048/fallin-inlove?source=share (fallin' inlove)

https://www.tumblr.com/yesihaveaobsession/761332496890806273/what-could-go-right?source=share (what could go right)

https://www.tumblr.com/yesihaveaobsession/793221493315272704/alastor-hazbin-hotel-x-femalereader-summary (the prize of a smile)

https://www.tumblr.com/yesihaveaobsession/791371868771942400/alastor-habin-hotel-x-female-reader-summary (a sip of jazz)

https://www.tumblr.com/yesihaveaobsession/788822304271597568/alastor-hazbin-hotel-x-femalereader-summary (where curiosity leads)

https://www.tumblr.com/yesihaveaobsession/795901762136637440/alastor-hazbin-hotel-x-femalereader-summary (colored me noticed)

https://www.tumblr.com/yesihaveaobsession/798924562211438592/alastor-hazbin-hotel-x-femalereader-summary (happy halloween darling)

(updated- 12/3/25)

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TOM ELLIS LUCIFER MORNGSTAR (DC) MAIN MASTERLIST/ MINI MASTERLIST:

https://www.tumblr.com/yesihaveaobsession/783655781085184000/imagines

(updated- 12/3/25) *didn't have enough space to add all of his on this one so the link goes to all of them <3*

....................................................

ALASTOR & TOM ELLIS LUCIFER MORNINGSTAR HOLIDAY MINI MASTERLIST:

https://www.tumblr.com/yesihaveaobsession/801750862122860544/tis-the-season-heres-my-holiday-mini (my fics link)

(updated- 12/19/25)

[yesihaveaobsession]

alastor! hazbin hotel x female!reader (charlie and others)

Summary: Charlie tries to celebrate the 4th of July at the Hazbin Hotel, despite it being Hell and nothing ever going right. Angel Dust brings a homemade fireworks machine that immediately malfunctions and blasts Alastor with red, white, and blue confetti. The hotel erupts into chaos while Angel laughs, Charlie panics, Vaggie gets angry, and Husk stays unimpressed. Alastor remains calm but clearly dangerous, lightly threatening Angel while still smiling. He also shows subtle interest in you (the reader) even while covered in confetti, turning the disaster into something oddly controlled instead of fully destructive.

A/N- RAAHHHHH Happy 4th of July, let alone the 250th~ I am back and I hope y'all enjoy this Alastor fic .. I there it together real quickk soo:))

AGAIN SORRY FOR MISTAKES I THREW THIS TOGETHER

The hotel was never quiet. Hell was never quiet.

But on the 4th of July, because Charlie insisted that it was celebrated down there, it reached a whole new level of not quiet.

So Charlie Morningstar and Vaggie had somehow agreed against their better judgment to “a small, harmless celebration.” Which, in Hell, was already a lie waiting to happen. A banner was hung crookedly across the lobby reading “INDEPENDENCE DAY (DO NOT BLOW ANYTHING UP)” in glitter glue that was already peeling. Charlie was stepping down from the ladder, her hands on her hips, looking at it. Not perfect, but it would have to work.

Meanwhile, you stood near the front desk watching. You were always watching the chaos, at least trying to without being pulled into it. You usually always were though. You watched in amusement. The hotel needed someone like you. You were calm in a way that didn’t belong in a place like Hell, calm in not calm situations.

Standing across the room was Alastor, with his arms behind his back and his smile that never faltered. He was watching you instead of the decorations that were still being put up.

“You know,” he said smoothly, his voice crackling faintly like an old radio, “I find these human traditions utterly fascinating. Explosive, loud, and entirely lacking in self-preservation.”

“It’s patriotic,” Charlie Morningstar insisted brightly, clapping her hands together like this was going to end well.

“It’s dangerous,” Vaggie muttered immediately.

And that was when Angel Dust grinned like a man who absolutely should not be trusted with fireworks.

“Oh c’mon, it’ll be FINE,” Angel said, dragging a suspiciously large contraption into the center of the lobby. It was basically a cannon made of party supplies, duct tape, and what looked like regret. “It’s just a lil celebration device.”

Vaggie squinted. “Why does it have wires?”

“Decorative.”

“Why is it sparking?”

“Ambience.”

Alastor tilted his head slightly, still smiling. “Oh, this ought to be entertaining.”

That was never a good sign.

Charlie leaned in toward you and whispered, “He says that when he’s about to enjoy something or kill something.”

“Sometimes both,” Husk added.

You barely had time to react before Angel Dust proudly slammed a big red button on the contraption.

There was a pause.

A very suspicious pause.

Then

BOOM.

Except it wasn’t a normal explosion.

The device didn’t launch fireworks into the sky.

It launched an entire patriotic confetti vortex directly at Alastor.

Red, white, blue, glitter, streamers, paper eagles, tiny plastic hats, something that might have been a sparkly bald eagle screaming.

The entire lobby erupted into chaos as the confetti cannon malfunctioned like it had been personally offended by reality.

And Alastor?

He stood perfectly still.

Absolutely still.

Covered head to toe in patriotic nonsense.

A single streamer hung off one antler like it had claimed residency.

The room went silent.

Charlie’s eyes widened. “Oh no…”

Vaggie’s face said I told you so in at least five languages.

Husk slowly wiped a glass. “I am not getting paid enough for this.”

Angel Dust, on the other hand, stared for half a second, then lost it.

“OH MY GOD HE LOOKS LIKE A FIREWORK EXPLODED IN A CRAFT STORE”

He doubled over laughing, practically wheezing.

You tried so hard not to laugh. Really.

You covered your mouth, shoulders shaking slightly, eyes bright with disbelief as you looked at Alastor.

Because Alastor, terrifying, composed, ever smiling Alastor, was now glittering like a cursed parade float.

There was a beat. Then another.

Alastor slowly turned his head, and he still smiled.

But the air around him changed.

“Oh,” he said softly. “How delightful.”

A faint crackle echoed through the room like distant thunder on an old radio frequency.

The confetti on his coat twitched.

Charlie immediately stepped forward, hands up. “Okay, okay, we can fix this, it was an accident, Angel didn’t mean—”

“I absolutely meant it,” Angel said proudly.

“Angel”

Alastor raised a hand.

"Nonsense."

Alastor looked down at himself and plucked a paper flag from his sleeve like it would solve the problem. He examined it like it had personally insulted him, in which case it might as well have.

Then he slowly looked up again, his gaze landing directly on Angel Dust.

“Do you know what I find most fascinating about fireworks?” he said pleasantly.

Angel paused. “…uh oh.”

“They tend to go out with a bang.”

The lights flickered.

You stepped slightly forward without thinking, just a small movement, but enough.

Alastor’s eyes flicked to you immediately.

And something shifted.

The storm behind his smile softened, just slightly.

“Oh don’t worry,” he added lightly, his voice returning to its usual charming tone. “I wouldn’t dream of ruining the celebration.”

Angel blinked. “Wait, really?”

Alastor’s smile widened.

“Oh no. I simply said I wouldn’t ruin it.”

A pause.

…yet.

You were still standing there, trying not to laugh, when Alastor turned slightly toward you again.

Confetti still clung to him like the universe itself had decided to be annoying.

“You find this amusing, don’t you?” he asked smoothly.

Your eyes flicked over him once, then you very clearly failed not to smile.

“…maybe a little.”

A beat.

Then Alastor’s grin softened in a way nobody else ever seemed to see.

“Well,” he said lightly, brushing confetti off his sleeve with eerie precision, “I suppose even Hell deserves a bit of chaos on Independence Day.”

[yesihaveaobsession]

alastor! hazbin hotel x female!reader (charlie and others)

Summary: Charlie tries to celebrate the 4th of July at the Hazbin Hotel, despite it being Hell and nothing ever going right. Angel Dust brings a homemade fireworks machine that immediately malfunctions and blasts Alastor with red, white, and blue confetti. The hotel erupts into chaos while Angel laughs, Charlie panics, Vaggie gets angry, and Husk stays unimpressed. Alastor remains calm but clearly dangerous, lightly threatening Angel while still smiling. He also shows subtle interest in you (the reader) even while covered in confetti, turning the disaster into something oddly controlled instead of fully destructive.

A/N- RAAHHHHH Happy 4th of July, let alone the 250th~ I am back and I hope y'all enjoy this Alastor fic .. I there it together real quickk soo:))

AGAIN SORRY FOR MISTAKES I THREW THIS TOGETHER

The hotel was never quiet. Hell was never quiet.

But on the 4th of July, because Charlie insisted that it was celebrated down there, it reached a whole new level of not quiet.

So Charlie Morningstar and Vaggie had somehow agreed against their better judgment to “a small, harmless celebration.” Which, in Hell, was already a lie waiting to happen. A banner was hung crookedly across the lobby reading “INDEPENDENCE DAY (DO NOT BLOW ANYTHING UP)” in glitter glue that was already peeling. Charlie was stepping down from the ladder, her hands on her hips, looking at it. Not perfect, but it would have to work.

Meanwhile, you stood near the front desk watching. You were always watching the chaos, at least trying to without being pulled into it. You usually always were though. You watched in amusement. The hotel needed someone like you. You were calm in a way that didn’t belong in a place like Hell, calm in not calm situations.

Standing across the room was Alastor, with his arms behind his back and his smile that never faltered. He was watching you instead of the decorations that were still being put up.

“You know,” he said smoothly, his voice crackling faintly like an old radio, “I find these human traditions utterly fascinating. Explosive, loud, and entirely lacking in self-preservation.”

“It’s patriotic,” Charlie Morningstar insisted brightly, clapping her hands together like this was going to end well.

“It’s dangerous,” Vaggie muttered immediately.

And that was when Angel Dust grinned like a man who absolutely should not be trusted with fireworks.

“Oh c’mon, it’ll be FINE,” Angel said, dragging a suspiciously large contraption into the center of the lobby. It was basically a cannon made of party supplies, duct tape, and what looked like regret. “It’s just a lil celebration device.”

Vaggie squinted. “Why does it have wires?”

“Decorative.”

“Why is it sparking?”

“Ambience.”

Alastor tilted his head slightly, still smiling. “Oh, this ought to be entertaining.”

That was never a good sign.

Charlie leaned in toward you and whispered, “He says that when he’s about to enjoy something or kill something.”

“Sometimes both,” Husk added.

You barely had time to react before Angel Dust proudly slammed a big red button on the contraption.

There was a pause.

A very suspicious pause.

Then

BOOM.

Except it wasn’t a normal explosion.

The device didn’t launch fireworks into the sky.

It launched an entire patriotic confetti vortex directly at Alastor.

Red, white, blue, glitter, streamers, paper eagles, tiny plastic hats, something that might have been a sparkly bald eagle screaming.

The entire lobby erupted into chaos as the confetti cannon malfunctioned like it had been personally offended by reality.

And Alastor?

He stood perfectly still.

Absolutely still.

Covered head to toe in patriotic nonsense.

A single streamer hung off one antler like it had claimed residency.

The room went silent.

Charlie’s eyes widened. “Oh no…”

Vaggie’s face said I told you so in at least five languages.

Husk slowly wiped a glass. “I am not getting paid enough for this.”

Angel Dust, on the other hand, stared for half a second, then lost it.

“OH MY GOD HE LOOKS LIKE A FIREWORK EXPLODED IN A CRAFT STORE”

He doubled over laughing, practically wheezing.

You tried so hard not to laugh. Really.

You covered your mouth, shoulders shaking slightly, eyes bright with disbelief as you looked at Alastor.

Because Alastor, terrifying, composed, ever smiling Alastor, was now glittering like a cursed parade float.

There was a beat. Then another.

Alastor slowly turned his head, and he still smiled.

But the air around him changed.

“Oh,” he said softly. “How delightful.”

A faint crackle echoed through the room like distant thunder on an old radio frequency.

The confetti on his coat twitched.

Charlie immediately stepped forward, hands up. “Okay, okay, we can fix this, it was an accident, Angel didn’t mean—”

“I absolutely meant it,” Angel said proudly.

“Angel”

Alastor raised a hand.

"Nonsense."

Alastor looked down at himself and plucked a paper flag from his sleeve like it would solve the problem. He examined it like it had personally insulted him, in which case it might as well have.

Then he slowly looked up again, his gaze landing directly on Angel Dust.

“Do you know what I find most fascinating about fireworks?” he said pleasantly.

Angel paused. “…uh oh.”

“They tend to go out with a bang.”

The lights flickered.

You stepped slightly forward without thinking, just a small movement, but enough.

Alastor’s eyes flicked to you immediately.

And something shifted.

The storm behind his smile softened, just slightly.

“Oh don’t worry,” he added lightly, his voice returning to its usual charming tone. “I wouldn’t dream of ruining the celebration.”

Angel blinked. “Wait, really?”

Alastor’s smile widened.

“Oh no. I simply said I wouldn’t ruin it.”

A pause.

…yet.

You were still standing there, trying not to laugh, when Alastor turned slightly toward you again.

Confetti still clung to him like the universe itself had decided to be annoying.

“You find this amusing, don’t you?” he asked smoothly.

Your eyes flicked over him once, then you very clearly failed not to smile.

“…maybe a little.”

A beat.

Then Alastor’s grin softened in a way nobody else ever seemed to see.

“Well,” he said lightly, brushing confetti off his sleeve with eerie precision, “I suppose even Hell deserves a bit of chaos on Independence Day.”

[yesihaveaobsession]

Memorial Day- to those who fought and served and will never be forgotten 🇺🇸🙏

[yesihaveaobsession]

Give Me Some Ideas :)

Hey y’all,

I’m still here — and I miss y’all so much. This one’s for my Alastor peeps: I am completely running dry on ideas right now, so feel free to drop some suggestions below! I’ll probably pick the ones that interest me most, and once I’ve got some inspiration again, I’ll likely delete this post.

And for my Tom Ellis Lucifer peeps, I’ll be making a post like this for y’all in the next few days too!

Drop your ideas below! Thank y’all so much. 🤍

[yesihaveaobsession]

Give Me Some Ideas :)

Hey y’all,

I’m still here — and I miss y’all so much. This one’s for my Alastor peeps: I am completely running dry on ideas right now, so feel free to drop some suggestions below! I’ll probably pick the ones that interest me most, and once I’ve got some inspiration again, I’ll likely delete this post.

And for my Tom Ellis Lucifer peeps, I’ll be making a post like this for y’all in the next few days too!

Drop your ideas below! Thank y’all so much. 🤍

[yesihaveaobsession]

Unfortunately not Easter fic this year cause i have been busy. So Happy Easter y'all 🐰 🐣 ✝️🫶

[yesihaveaobsession]

tomellis!lucifer (dc) x female reader

Summary: At LUX on St. Patrick’s Day, Lucifer tries to charm you (the reader) into kissing him with a “Kiss Me, I’m Irish” sticker. You tease and refuse, but the tension is playful—and he’s clearly not giving up.

A/N- Little St. Patrick's Day fic for y'all hope you enjoy this! Also I hope you're wearing green or else you're getting pinched. ;)

Music pulsed through LUX, green lights washing over the dance floor in honor of Saint Patrick's Day. Shamrocks hung from the high ceiling, the bar served obnoxiously green cocktails, and someone had convinced the DJ to mix Irish drinking songs with club beats.

Leaning against the bar was Mr. Temptation himself, Lucifer Morningstar. He was fully in the spirit, wearing a green dress shirt with a matching pocket square, adorned with gold cufflinks.

Lucifer swirled a glass of whiskey, watching you from across the bar. His gaze drifted around the club for a moment, people-watching, before inevitably landing back on you.

You stood on the other side, laughing with Maze, showing your spirit in your own way. Just a hint of green, subtle enough that someone would have to look twice to notice. You weren’t risking getting pinched, especially not by Maze.

Lucifer had seen countless beautiful people in his millennia of existence.

But you?

You were dangerously beautiful.

He pushed off the bar and made his way over, sliding in beside you like he owned the place, which, technically, he did.

“Good evening, darling.”

You glanced over your shoulder.

“Hi, Lucifer.”

Maze smirked and slipped away.

Traitor.

Lucifer leaned casually against the bar, lowering his voice just for you.

“You look positively sinful tonight.” His eyes dragged over you once, slow and deliberate. That was all he needed.

You rolled your eyes.

“It’s St. Patrick’s Day, Lucifer. Everyone’s dressed up.”

“Yes, but you…” He gestured vaguely, like he couldn’t quite put it into words. “You look like a walking Irish fantasy.”

You blinked.

“…What does that even mean?”

Lucifer reached into his pocket and slapped something onto his chest with dramatic flair, clearly proud of himself.

A bright green sticker.

You read it.

KISS ME, I’M IRISH.

You stared at him.

“…Lucifer.”

“Yes, love?”

“You’re not Irish.”

He tilted his head, completely unbothered.

“Well, technically, I’ve spent time in Ireland.”

“That does not make you Irish.”

“I once owned a pub there.”

“Still not Irish.”

“I drank with a leprechaun.”

You paused.

“…You did not drink with a leprechaun.”

Lucifer took a slow sip of whiskey, barely reacting.

“You can’t prove that.”

You laughed, shaking your head.

“That sticker is a lie.”

He leaned in slightly, voice dropping into something conspiratorial.

“Well, I had to improvise. ‘Kiss me, I’m the Devil’ didn’t feel very festive.”

You snorted.

“I’m not kissing you.”

Lucifer placed a hand over his chest, mock-offended, though the smirk never left his lips.

“Refusing the Devil on a holiday dedicated to luck and indulgence? How tragic.”

You pointed at the sticker.

“You’re committing cultural fraud.”

He leaned closer, voice smooth as silk.

“Darling, I’ve committed far worse.”

God, he was impossible. Any excuse to steal a kiss, and he’d take it, and honestly… you didn’t exactly mind.

You leaned in just enough, your voice teasing.

“Guess you’ll have to keep trying, Lucifer.”

His eyes darkened, amused and challenged all at once.

“Oh, darling…”

He leaned close enough that his voice brushed your ear, just audible over the music.

“I fully intend to.”

[yesihaveaobsession]

tomellis!lucifer (dc) x female reader

Summary: At LUX on St. Patrick’s Day, Lucifer tries to charm you (the reader) into kissing him with a “Kiss Me, I’m Irish” sticker. You tease and refuse, but the tension is playful—and he’s clearly not giving up.

A/N- Little St. Patrick's Day fic for y'all hope you enjoy this! Also I hope you're wearing green or else you're getting pinched. ;)

Music pulsed through LUX, green lights washing over the dance floor in honor of Saint Patrick's Day. Shamrocks hung from the high ceiling, the bar served obnoxiously green cocktails, and someone had convinced the DJ to mix Irish drinking songs with club beats.

Leaning against the bar was Mr. Temptation himself, Lucifer Morningstar. He was fully in the spirit, wearing a green dress shirt with a matching pocket square, adorned with gold cufflinks.

Lucifer swirled a glass of whiskey, watching you from across the bar. His gaze drifted around the club for a moment, people-watching, before inevitably landing back on you.

You stood on the other side, laughing with Maze, showing your spirit in your own way. Just a hint of green, subtle enough that someone would have to look twice to notice. You weren’t risking getting pinched, especially not by Maze.

Lucifer had seen countless beautiful people in his millennia of existence.

But you?

You were dangerously beautiful.

He pushed off the bar and made his way over, sliding in beside you like he owned the place, which, technically, he did.

“Good evening, darling.”

You glanced over your shoulder.

“Hi, Lucifer.”

Maze smirked and slipped away.

Traitor.

Lucifer leaned casually against the bar, lowering his voice just for you.

“You look positively sinful tonight.” His eyes dragged over you once, slow and deliberate. That was all he needed.

You rolled your eyes.

“It’s St. Patrick’s Day, Lucifer. Everyone’s dressed up.”

“Yes, but you…” He gestured vaguely, like he couldn’t quite put it into words. “You look like a walking Irish fantasy.”

You blinked.

“…What does that even mean?”

Lucifer reached into his pocket and slapped something onto his chest with dramatic flair, clearly proud of himself.

A bright green sticker.

You read it.

KISS ME, I’M IRISH.

You stared at him.

“…Lucifer.”

“Yes, love?”

“You’re not Irish.”

He tilted his head, completely unbothered.

“Well, technically, I’ve spent time in Ireland.”

“That does not make you Irish.”

“I once owned a pub there.”

“Still not Irish.”

“I drank with a leprechaun.”

You paused.

“…You did not drink with a leprechaun.”

Lucifer took a slow sip of whiskey, barely reacting.

“You can’t prove that.”

You laughed, shaking your head.

“That sticker is a lie.”

He leaned in slightly, voice dropping into something conspiratorial.

“Well, I had to improvise. ‘Kiss me, I’m the Devil’ didn’t feel very festive.”

You snorted.

“I’m not kissing you.”

Lucifer placed a hand over his chest, mock-offended, though the smirk never left his lips.

“Refusing the Devil on a holiday dedicated to luck and indulgence? How tragic.”

You pointed at the sticker.

“You’re committing cultural fraud.”

He leaned closer, voice smooth as silk.

“Darling, I’ve committed far worse.”

God, he was impossible. Any excuse to steal a kiss, and he’d take it, and honestly… you didn’t exactly mind.

You leaned in just enough, your voice teasing.

“Guess you’ll have to keep trying, Lucifer.”

His eyes darkened, amused and challenged all at once.

“Oh, darling…”

He leaned close enough that his voice brushed your ear, just audible over the music.

“I fully intend to.”

[yesihaveaobsession]

alastor (hazbin hotel) x female!reader

Summary: When Alastor takes you (the reader) to a hidden bar in Hell, the entire place falls silent the moment he walks in. While everyone else trembles in fear of the Radio Demon, he simply orders a drink like it’s a perfectly normal night—and you’re the only one brave enough to sit beside him.

A/N- Surprise I have woken up from the dead with Alastor fics/ fics in general. Hope y'all like this one! Also for my Lucifer request, I swear I haven't forgot about you! I've been busy and so I haven't had the time to work on it. I am almost done with it though, like I said I'll tag you once it's completely done.

Again I hope y'all like this one! :)

The sign outside the hidden bar flickered weakly in the red glow of Hell's skyline.

Inside, the place was loud and lively—glasses clinking, demons and other sorts laughing a little too loudly. A band played in the corner, all in tuxedos and dresses, playing something jazzy on the small stage. It was a little off-key, but nobody noticed.

Then the door opened.

The bar went silent.

To the point where crickets could've been heard.

Not gradually. Not awkwardly.

Just… dead quiet.

Like the air had shifted into something dark and eerie.

Oh, because it had.

Because standing in the doorway was the unmistakable silhouette of the Radio Demon himself, Alastor.

His smile stretched like always—maybe a little more than usual, if that was even possible. His monocle glinted beneath the dim bar lights.

Beside him, if anyone had dared to stand next to him, was you.

You glanced around at the scene. Suddenly everyone in the bar—even the bartenders—looked guilty of something far worse. You saw dozens of demons and others frozen mid-drink.

One demon slowly lowered the pool cue he'd been about to use. Another stopped laughing so abruptly it sounded like someone unplugged a radio.

Someone in the back whispered.

“…Radio Demon.”

Not that anyone needed confirmation.

Alastor tilted his head slightly, like he'd heard it through static.

Now, you were quite surprised when Alastor had asked you to join him on one of his strolls, let alone it leading to a bar. Curiosity got the best of you, so you agreed. Everyone at the hotel thought you had lost your bloody mind.

“Ah! Nothing like a warm welcome!” he said cheerfully. Like usual, his voice crackled faintly like an old broadcast. “Though I must say the enthusiasm seems a tad… quiet tonight.”

You snorted softly at how nonchalant he was about the whole situation—how everyone was itching to get out of there, how everyone had suddenly started to sweat.

“You scare them,” you said.

“Do I?” Alastor placed a gloved hand over his chest dramatically. “Why, dear, I am the very image of hospitality!”

Again, the bar was so quiet that when a glass shattered somewhere, it echoed through the room.

You raised an eyebrow.

“Hospitality.”

“Indeed!”

With everyone watching, he strolled toward the bar like he owned every step he took. The crowd parted immediately.

No one wanted to be in his way.

You leaned closer to him as you walked.

“You realize that guy at the table is literally shaking.”

“Hmm?” Alastor glanced casually toward the demon gripping his drink like a lifeline. “Oh dear… he does appear a bit rattled.”

Pause.

“Perhaps he’s cold.”

You tried not to laugh. You covered it—well, at least attempted to—with a cough.

The poor bartender, who had definitely been smirking seconds before you walked in with him, now looked like he was considering a career change.

Alastor, on the other hand, calm as ever, slid onto a stool like this was the most normal night in Hell.

To him, it probably was.

You sat beside him.

The bartender approached slowly.

Very slowly.

“What—uh—what can I get you?” he asked, trying very hard to keep his voice from shaking and trying just as hard to stay professional.

Alastor beamed.

“Two whiskeys, my good fellow!”

The bartender blinked.

“You’re… not gonna… you know…”

Alastor tilted his head.

“Going to… what?”

“Harvest my soul or something?”

Alastor laughed brightly.

“Oh heavens no! Not before my drink, at least.”

The bartender nearly dropped the glasses.

You elbowed Alastor.

“Alastor.”

“What?” he said innocently.

“You’re messing with him.”

“Me?” he gasped dramatically. “Perish the thought!”

The bartender slid the drinks across the counter with trembling hands before immediately backing away.

You picked up your glass.

“Cheers.”

Alastor lifted his.

“To the Radio Demon being surprisingly charming,” you said.

Alastor chuckled.

“Don’t spread that rumor, darling.”

His eyes glinted playfully.

“It would absolutely ruin my reputation.”

[yesihaveaobsession]

Holy cow, freaking out for my Tom Ellis people out there, You might know the new TV series hes starring in called CIA.. and it so seems we are going to be seeing him in a suit many of times (i hope) We are so back... Tom in a suit in the big 2026.

Bro is so fine.. I can't even any more..

AimeeGarcia4realz (instgram)

Lucifer (2016-2021)

[yesihaveaobsession]

Summary: When Amenadiel leaves to handle celestial matters, he asks his brother to watch over his wife (you, the reader)—the fallen angel Heaven crafted to stand at his side.

But what Heaven wrote can’t silence what’s been building for years. Because from the moment Lucifer Morningstar first saw you—long before Lux, long before the wedding—he knew you wasn’t meant to be ignored.

And tonight, he’s done pretending. On one knee at your door, ring in hand, Lucifer makes a choice that could shatter Heaven itself.

-------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: Okay... so this fic is lowkey based on "What If" by Kane Brown (featuring: Lauren Alaina) I've done a fic on the reader being Amenadiels wife before cause it was a request. Although I'm currently working on a request for another lucifer fic.. i decided to but this out in the meantime and though it was different!

So for my tom ellis peeps on here, this one is for you. Hope y'all like this one. As for my Alastor peeps... I have to try and figure out something for him.. so stay tuned and thanks for the patience. :))

The first time you met Lucifer Morningstar, it felt like you were standing a little too close to lightning.

You had been introduced properly at Lux one night by your husband, Amenadiel—Lucifer’s brother.

“My wife,” Amenadiel had said with steady, reverent pride. “Heaven crafted her with intention.”

And Lucifer had looked at you like Heaven had handcrafted a sin.

Not in a crude or mocking way. Never that.

In awe.

For three and a half years after that, there had been tension between you and Lucifer—tension that became its own living, breathing thing. Hard to ignore.

You remembered that night clearly. The way Lucifer’s eyes slowly roamed over you, appreciating, taking you in like you were already his favorite obsession.

But you loved Amenadiel. That was true. He was noble, righteous, dependable. The kind of angel Heaven would design a wife for.

But Lucifer…

He looked at you like you were a choice.

Not an assignment.

Tonight, Amenadiel had left in a hurry. You didn’t question it—you knew better. “Angel business,” he’d said, pressing a kiss to your temple before asking Lucifer to keep an eye on you. Like he always did.

Yes. Leave you alone with the one man you had the most tension with.

Amenadiel didn’t know. Why would he?

Lucifer had smirked. “Of course, brother. I’ll guard her with my life.”

You hadn’t missed the way his eyes lingered.

And now—

A knock at your door.

You opened it, already smiling.

“Lucifer—”

He stood there in a perfectly tailored black suit, dark shirt open at the collar, hair styled flawlessly as always. He looked like sin and temptation dressed as a gentleman.

And before you could tease him about overdressing for a simple house call—

He dropped to one knee.

Your breath left your body.

In his hand was a ring. Not just any ring.

It wasn’t flashy. Not gaudy. It was elegant. Intentional.

“Lucifer…” you whispered, your voice trembling as you gripped the doorframe to steady yourself. “What—what are you doing?”

He didn’t smirk.

He didn’t wink.

He didn’t make a joke.

That terrified you more than anything.

“I’m done pretending,” he said quietly. “Done standing on the sidelines like some pathetic martyr while you play dutiful wife.”

You swallowed hard. “I’m with your brother.”

“I’m aware.”

“I love him.”

His jaw tightened. “I know.”

“And I don’t want to hurt him. We trust each other, Lucifer.”

He rose slowly, still holding the ring. His voice softened.

“And what about you?” he asked. “What about what you feel?”

You opened your mouth—but nothing came out.

He stepped closer, careful, like approaching something fragile.

“You felt it the day we met,” he said. “Don’t lie to me, darling. I saw it in your eyes. That flicker. That shift.”

You hated that he was right.

“You have a lot of nerve,” you whispered shakily. “Coming to my house while my husband is away. Proposing on my doorstep.”

He exhaled, emotion breaking through his usual charm.

“I’ve never been particularly good at playing by Heaven’s rules.”

It was supposed to be funny.

It wasn’t.

His eyes dropped to the ring already on your finger—the heavenly one. Gold. Sacred. Bound to Amenadiel. It suddenly felt heavy.

“Tell me something,” Lucifer said quietly. “Did anyone actually ask you?”

Your eyes snapped to his.

“Or did they simply decide?” he continued. “Did they say, ‘She belongs to Amenadiel,’ and you nodded like the perfect celestial wife?”

Your heart pounded.

“Maybe,” he said softly, stepping closer, “Heaven crafted you to be extraordinary… but forgot to assign you properly.”

“That’s ridiculous,” you breathed.

“Is it?” His voice cracked slightly. “You’re fallen, like me. You understand what it’s like to question. To doubt. To choose.”

He looked at you like you were the only star left in the Los Angeles sky.

“I love you,” he said.

The words hit like a physical force.

“No,” you shook your head. “No—you can’t say things like that.”

“I just did.”

“Lucifer, please—”

“I have spent three and a half years,” he interrupted, emotion rising, “watching you smile at him the way you smile at me when you think I don’t notice. I’ve listened to you defend me. I’ve seen the way you light up when we argue like equals.”

He stepped close enough that you could feel his warmth.

“You were not made to be obedient,” he said softly. “You were made to burn.”

Tears filled your eyes.

“This isn’t fair.”

“No,” he agreed. “It isn’t.”

His voice softened again.

“I don’t want to hurt my brother. But I cannot keep pretending you’re not the only creature in existence who makes me want something… permanent.”

You looked down at the heavy ring on your finger. Then at the one in his hand.

“I do love him,” you whispered.

“I’m not asking you to deny that,” Lucifer said. “I’m asking you to admit there’s more.”

Silence stretched between you.

You could feel it—the pull. The undeniable pull toward him.

He brushed his thumb gently beneath your jaw.

“If you tell me to leave,” he said seriously, “I will. I won’t make this harder for you.”

Your chest tightened.

“But if even a small part of you feels what I feel… don’t let Heaven make your choice again.”

The ring in his hand glinted under the porch light.

You looked at it.

Then at him.

Then at the sacred band on your finger.

And for the first time since Heaven assigned you a husband—

You wondered if destiny was something you were allowed to rewrite.

[yesihaveaobsession]

Summary: When Amenadiel leaves to handle celestial matters, he asks his brother to watch over his wife (you, the reader)—the fallen angel Heaven crafted to stand at his side.

But what Heaven wrote can’t silence what’s been building for years. Because from the moment Lucifer Morningstar first saw you—long before Lux, long before the wedding—he knew you wasn’t meant to be ignored.

And tonight, he’s done pretending. On one knee at your door, ring in hand, Lucifer makes a choice that could shatter Heaven itself.

-------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: Okay... so this fic is lowkey based on "What If" by Kane Brown (featuring: Lauren Alaina) I've done a fic on the reader being Amenadiels wife before cause it was a request. Although I'm currently working on a request for another lucifer fic.. i decided to but this out in the meantime and though it was different!

So for my tom ellis peeps on here, this one is for you. Hope y'all like this one. As for my Alastor peeps... I have to try and figure out something for him.. so stay tuned and thanks for the patience. :))

The first time you met Lucifer Morningstar, it felt like you were standing a little too close to lightning.

You had been introduced properly at Lux one night by your husband, Amenadiel—Lucifer’s brother.

“My wife,” Amenadiel had said with steady, reverent pride. “Heaven crafted her with intention.”

And Lucifer had looked at you like Heaven had handcrafted a sin.

Not in a crude or mocking way. Never that.

In awe.

For three and a half years after that, there had been tension between you and Lucifer—tension that became its own living, breathing thing. Hard to ignore.

You remembered that night clearly. The way Lucifer’s eyes slowly roamed over you, appreciating, taking you in like you were already his favorite obsession.

But you loved Amenadiel. That was true. He was noble, righteous, dependable. The kind of angel Heaven would design a wife for.

But Lucifer…

He looked at you like you were a choice.

Not an assignment.

Tonight, Amenadiel had left in a hurry. You didn’t question it—you knew better. “Angel business,” he’d said, pressing a kiss to your temple before asking Lucifer to keep an eye on you. Like he always did.

Yes. Leave you alone with the one man you had the most tension with.

Amenadiel didn’t know. Why would he?

Lucifer had smirked. “Of course, brother. I’ll guard her with my life.”

You hadn’t missed the way his eyes lingered.

And now—

A knock at your door.

You opened it, already smiling.

“Lucifer—”

He stood there in a perfectly tailored black suit, dark shirt open at the collar, hair styled flawlessly as always. He looked like sin and temptation dressed as a gentleman.

And before you could tease him about overdressing for a simple house call—

He dropped to one knee.

Your breath left your body.

In his hand was a ring. Not just any ring.

It wasn’t flashy. Not gaudy. It was elegant. Intentional.

“Lucifer…” you whispered, your voice trembling as you gripped the doorframe to steady yourself. “What—what are you doing?”

He didn’t smirk.

He didn’t wink.

He didn’t make a joke.

That terrified you more than anything.

“I’m done pretending,” he said quietly. “Done standing on the sidelines like some pathetic martyr while you play dutiful wife.”

You swallowed hard. “I’m with your brother.”

“I’m aware.”

“I love him.”

His jaw tightened. “I know.”

“And I don’t want to hurt him. We trust each other, Lucifer.”

He rose slowly, still holding the ring. His voice softened.

“And what about you?” he asked. “What about what you feel?”

You opened your mouth—but nothing came out.

He stepped closer, careful, like approaching something fragile.

“You felt it the day we met,” he said. “Don’t lie to me, darling. I saw it in your eyes. That flicker. That shift.”

You hated that he was right.

“You have a lot of nerve,” you whispered shakily. “Coming to my house while my husband is away. Proposing on my doorstep.”

He exhaled, emotion breaking through his usual charm.

“I’ve never been particularly good at playing by Heaven’s rules.”

It was supposed to be funny.

It wasn’t.

His eyes dropped to the ring already on your finger—the heavenly one. Gold. Sacred. Bound to Amenadiel. It suddenly felt heavy.

“Tell me something,” Lucifer said quietly. “Did anyone actually ask you?”

Your eyes snapped to his.

“Or did they simply decide?” he continued. “Did they say, ‘She belongs to Amenadiel,’ and you nodded like the perfect celestial wife?”

Your heart pounded.

“Maybe,” he said softly, stepping closer, “Heaven crafted you to be extraordinary… but forgot to assign you properly.”

“That’s ridiculous,” you breathed.

“Is it?” His voice cracked slightly. “You’re fallen, like me. You understand what it’s like to question. To doubt. To choose.”

He looked at you like you were the only star left in the Los Angeles sky.

“I love you,” he said.

The words hit like a physical force.

“No,” you shook your head. “No—you can’t say things like that.”

“I just did.”

“Lucifer, please—”

“I have spent three and a half years,” he interrupted, emotion rising, “watching you smile at him the way you smile at me when you think I don’t notice. I’ve listened to you defend me. I’ve seen the way you light up when we argue like equals.”

He stepped close enough that you could feel his warmth.

“You were not made to be obedient,” he said softly. “You were made to burn.”

Tears filled your eyes.

“This isn’t fair.”

“No,” he agreed. “It isn’t.”

His voice softened again.

“I don’t want to hurt my brother. But I cannot keep pretending you’re not the only creature in existence who makes me want something… permanent.”

You looked down at the heavy ring on your finger. Then at the one in his hand.

“I do love him,” you whispered.

“I’m not asking you to deny that,” Lucifer said. “I’m asking you to admit there’s more.”

Silence stretched between you.

You could feel it—the pull. The undeniable pull toward him.

He brushed his thumb gently beneath your jaw.

“If you tell me to leave,” he said seriously, “I will. I won’t make this harder for you.”

Your chest tightened.

“But if even a small part of you feels what I feel… don’t let Heaven make your choice again.”

The ring in his hand glinted under the porch light.

You looked at it.

Then at him.

Then at the sacred band on your finger.

And for the first time since Heaven assigned you a husband—

You wondered if destiny was something you were allowed to rewrite.

[yesihaveaobsession]

Summary: When Amenadiel leaves to handle celestial matters, he asks his brother to watch over his wife (you, the reader)—the fallen angel Heaven crafted to stand at his side.

But what Heaven wrote can’t silence what’s been building for years. Because from the moment Lucifer Morningstar first saw you—long before Lux, long before the wedding—he knew you wasn’t meant to be ignored.

And tonight, he’s done pretending. On one knee at your door, ring in hand, Lucifer makes a choice that could shatter Heaven itself.

-------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: Okay... so this fic is lowkey based on "What If" by Kane Brown (featuring: Lauren Alaina) I've done a fic on the reader being Amenadiels wife before cause it was a request. Although I'm currently working on a request for another lucifer fic.. i decided to but this out in the meantime and though it was different!

So for my tom ellis peeps on here, this one is for you. Hope y'all like this one. As for my Alastor peeps... I have to try and figure out something for him.. so stay tuned and thanks for the patience. :))

The first time you met Lucifer Morningstar, it felt like you were standing a little too close to lightning.

You had been introduced properly at Lux one night by your husband, Amenadiel—Lucifer’s brother.

“My wife,” Amenadiel had said with steady, reverent pride. “Heaven crafted her with intention.”

And Lucifer had looked at you like Heaven had handcrafted a sin.

Not in a crude or mocking way. Never that.

In awe.

For three and a half years after that, there had been tension between you and Lucifer—tension that became its own living, breathing thing. Hard to ignore.

You remembered that night clearly. The way Lucifer’s eyes slowly roamed over you, appreciating, taking you in like you were already his favorite obsession.

But you loved Amenadiel. That was true. He was noble, righteous, dependable. The kind of angel Heaven would design a wife for.

But Lucifer…

He looked at you like you were a choice.

Not an assignment.

Tonight, Amenadiel had left in a hurry. You didn’t question it—you knew better. “Angel business,” he’d said, pressing a kiss to your temple before asking Lucifer to keep an eye on you. Like he always did.

Yes. Leave you alone with the one man you had the most tension with.

Amenadiel didn’t know. Why would he?

Lucifer had smirked. “Of course, brother. I’ll guard her with my life.”

You hadn’t missed the way his eyes lingered.

And now—

A knock at your door.

You opened it, already smiling.

“Lucifer—”

He stood there in a perfectly tailored black suit, dark shirt open at the collar, hair styled flawlessly as always. He looked like sin and temptation dressed as a gentleman.

And before you could tease him about overdressing for a simple house call—

He dropped to one knee.

Your breath left your body.

In his hand was a ring. Not just any ring.

It wasn’t flashy. Not gaudy. It was elegant. Intentional.

“Lucifer…” you whispered, your voice trembling as you gripped the doorframe to steady yourself. “What—what are you doing?”

He didn’t smirk.

He didn’t wink.

He didn’t make a joke.

That terrified you more than anything.

“I’m done pretending,” he said quietly. “Done standing on the sidelines like some pathetic martyr while you play dutiful wife.”

You swallowed hard. “I’m with your brother.”

“I’m aware.”

“I love him.”

His jaw tightened. “I know.”

“And I don’t want to hurt him. We trust each other, Lucifer.”

He rose slowly, still holding the ring. His voice softened.

“And what about you?” he asked. “What about what you feel?”

You opened your mouth—but nothing came out.

He stepped closer, careful, like approaching something fragile.

“You felt it the day we met,” he said. “Don’t lie to me, darling. I saw it in your eyes. That flicker. That shift.”

You hated that he was right.

“You have a lot of nerve,” you whispered shakily. “Coming to my house while my husband is away. Proposing on my doorstep.”

He exhaled, emotion breaking through his usual charm.

“I’ve never been particularly good at playing by Heaven’s rules.”

It was supposed to be funny.

It wasn’t.

His eyes dropped to the ring already on your finger—the heavenly one. Gold. Sacred. Bound to Amenadiel. It suddenly felt heavy.

“Tell me something,” Lucifer said quietly. “Did anyone actually ask you?”

Your eyes snapped to his.

“Or did they simply decide?” he continued. “Did they say, ‘She belongs to Amenadiel,’ and you nodded like the perfect celestial wife?”

Your heart pounded.

“Maybe,” he said softly, stepping closer, “Heaven crafted you to be extraordinary… but forgot to assign you properly.”

“That’s ridiculous,” you breathed.

“Is it?” His voice cracked slightly. “You’re fallen, like me. You understand what it’s like to question. To doubt. To choose.”

He looked at you like you were the only star left in the Los Angeles sky.

“I love you,” he said.

The words hit like a physical force.

“No,” you shook your head. “No—you can’t say things like that.”

“I just did.”

“Lucifer, please—”

“I have spent three and a half years,” he interrupted, emotion rising, “watching you smile at him the way you smile at me when you think I don’t notice. I’ve listened to you defend me. I’ve seen the way you light up when we argue like equals.”

He stepped close enough that you could feel his warmth.

“You were not made to be obedient,” he said softly. “You were made to burn.”

Tears filled your eyes.

“This isn’t fair.”

“No,” he agreed. “It isn’t.”

His voice softened again.

“I don’t want to hurt my brother. But I cannot keep pretending you’re not the only creature in existence who makes me want something… permanent.”

You looked down at the heavy ring on your finger. Then at the one in his hand.

“I do love him,” you whispered.

“I’m not asking you to deny that,” Lucifer said. “I’m asking you to admit there’s more.”

Silence stretched between you.

You could feel it—the pull. The undeniable pull toward him.

He brushed his thumb gently beneath your jaw.

“If you tell me to leave,” he said seriously, “I will. I won’t make this harder for you.”

Your chest tightened.

“But if even a small part of you feels what I feel… don’t let Heaven make your choice again.”

The ring in his hand glinted under the porch light.

You looked at it.

Then at him.

Then at the sacred band on your finger.

And for the first time since Heaven assigned you a husband—

You wondered if destiny was something you were allowed to rewrite.

[yesihaveaobsession]

For my Tom Ellis ! Lucifer peeps.. prepare yourself, I'm cooking up something.. 👀

[yesihaveaobsession]

tomellis!lucifer x female!reader

Summary: Lucifer Morningstar never gets nervous…except when it comes to the reader (you) . Valentine’s Day, flowers, and a necklace prove even the Devil can care.

A/N- This one is a little longer specifically for Valentines Day and I couldn't help but find him nervous adorable. I could've gone on but I ran out of time so for my Lucifer peeps out there. This one is for you.

So delulu and so single I write Valentines Day fics for fictional men...

ANYWAYS... Happy Valentines Day!

Lucifer Morningstar did not get nervous.

He inspired nervousness.

He caused heart palpitations.

He reduced grown adults to stammering wrecks with a single look.

He did not get nervous.

Which is precisely why he had been standing in front of his big penthouse mirror for the last twenty minutes.

First, it started with adjusting his cufflinks.

Then he tilted his head and smirked.

“No, no, too smug,” he muttered to his reflection. “We’re going for devastatingly romantic, not ‘I’m-about-to-ruin-your-life.’”

He straightened his tie. Took it off. Put it back on. Took it off once again.

For heaven’s sake.

Wait…

His eyes drifted to the piano.

Where there should have been a very large, very expensive, very Lucifer-type dramatic bouquet of deep red roses.

There was nothing.

Lucifer just blinked.

He turned slowly, and he could’ve sworn his heart sank.

The bouquet—imported, hand-selected, flown in from a private grower in Italy because “basic florist roses are an insult”—was not on the piano.

His eyes narrowed.

“…No.”

He checked the bar.

Nothing.

He looked behind the couch.

Absolutely nothing.

His jaw tightened.

“Maze!” he shouted instinctively—then stopped. She wasn’t here.

Lucifer began walking briskly through the penthouse, trying to maintain dignity.

“Right. Not panicking. Not panicking. I am the Devil. I command legions. I do not misplace flowers.”

Lucifer checked the kitchen island. Empty.

He ran a hand through his hair.

“Oh, this is absurd. I had them delivered personally. I remember setting them down. I even adjusted the ribbon because it was tied like a psychopath did it.”

He stopped in the middle of the room.

His eyes widened slightly.

“What if someone took them?”

His mind immediately spiraled into the most dramatic conclusion possible.

A rival? A jealous admirer of yours? A celestial prank?

“Did Amenadiel move them?” he muttered darkly. “Is this some sort of brotherly sabotage?”

He stormed back toward the piano.

And then—

He froze.

There they were.

Behind the piano.

Perfectly safe.

Right where he had placed them… after deciding the lighting was better from that angle.

He stared at them.

Long pause.

He straightened slowly.

“Of course they’re there,” he said calmly to the empty room. “I put them there. Strategically.”

He walked over, picking them up carefully.

A massive bouquet of velvety red roses, dark and lush and dramatic. Exactly his style.

He inspected them like a general reviewing troops.

“Right. Excellent. See? Never lost. Merely… repositioned.”

He exhaled slowly.

And walked back to his room.

The Devil dragged a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. “It’s just an individual,” he told himself. He’s seduced individuals all the time. This is a piece of cake. You’re just another one.

Not just an individual.

You.

Stunning. Intelligent. Kind in a way that didn’t feel naive. You just had this quiet strength about you, the kind that didn’t need to be announced. And Lucifer had known from the first moment he saw you that you were dangerous.

Not because you were wicked. Because you weren’t.

You made him feel things. And that was frankly unacceptable.

He then glanced over at the velvet box that rested on the piano. It wasn’t a ring—he wasn’t proposing. Though he hated to admit that he had thought about it more than once in his existence. But it was a necklace. Elegant. Understated. Like you. In fact, it was a necklace you had mentioned in passing a few months ago.

Lucifer walked over, picked it up, and ran a finger over the gem.

“Valentine’s Day,” he murmured. “Ridiculous human holiday.”

Never in centuries had he done Valentine’s Day.

Yet here he was.

Checking himself in the mirror again. In every reflection—picture frames, the piano, any glass surface—he was checking himself more and more.

“You are Lucifer Bloody Morningstar. Ruler of Hell. Former Lightbringer. You do not get nervous asking an individual to be your Valentine.”

Pause.

“…Unless.”

He thought about you again. His jaw tightened just slightly.

Because this wasn’t about seduction. Not really. He’d seduced thousands. Effortless. A wink, a whisper, a slow walk across Lux.

But you?

You didn’t melt when he flirted.

You smiled knowingly. Teased him back. Challenged him. That’s what did it for him, always.

And when you laughed—God, that laugh—it wasn’t because he was the Devil.

It was because he was him.

That’s what terrified him.

Meanwhile, you were at home, unaware that the literal Devil was spiraling in a penthouse mirror crisis over you.

Lucifer checked his reflection one final time.

Black suit. Perfectly tailored. Open collar. Just enough skin to suggest sin.

“Yes,” he decided. “That will do.”

He grabbed the necklace, slipped it into his pocket, picked up the flowers, and in a flash, he was gone.

A knock sounded at your door.

When you opened it, you nearly forgot how to breathe.

Lucifer stood there like temptation incarnate. Dark suit. Smirk perfectly in place. But his eyes—

His eyes were softer than usual.

“Well,” he drawled, looking you up and down slowly, appreciatively, “I was going to begin with something charming and witty, but I appear to have temporarily forgotten the English language.”

You laughed lightly. “Lucifer.”

“Mmm. Say it again.”

He stepped inside without waiting for permission—typical—but he didn’t crowd you. Not yet.

“You look…” he exhaled through his nose. “Bloody hell.”

He ran a hand through his hair—subtle, but you noticed.

Was he—

No.

Impossible.

“The Devil’s flustered?” you teased gently.

He scoffed immediately. “Flustered? Please. I’ve survived celestial wars, darling.”

But his fingers brushed against his cuff again.

“And yet,” you said softly, stepping closer, “you keep fixing that.”

His gaze dropped to your lips for half a second before returning to your eyes.

“Observant. That’s one of the many, many things I adore about you.”

Adore.

He hadn’t meant to say that.

You saw the flicker in his expression.

Lucifer inhaled slowly, then straightened his shoulders.

Right. Enough.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the small velvet box.

“For someone who claims not to care about silly human traditions,” you said gently, “you look suspiciously prepared.”

He stepped closer now. Close enough that you could feel his warmth.

“Valentine’s Day,” he said softly, his voice losing some of its playful edge. “A celebration of desire, devotion, and dramatic gestures. Frankly, it’s tailor-made for me.”

You smiled. “Of course.”

“But,” he continued, his eyes locking with yours, more vulnerable than you’d ever seen, “this isn’t about a holiday.”

He opened the box, revealing the necklace glinting softly in the light.

“It’s about you.”

You blinked, stunned.

Lucifer Morningstar looked at you like you were the only thing in existence.

Judging by the look on your face, he had definitely still got it — and he totally wasn’t nervous.

[yesihaveaobsession]

tomellis!lucifer x female!reader

Summary: Lucifer Morningstar never gets nervous…except when it comes to the reader (you) . Valentine’s Day, flowers, and a necklace prove even the Devil can care.

A/N- This one is a little longer specifically for Valentines Day and I couldn't help but find him nervous adorable. I could've gone on but I ran out of time so for my Lucifer peeps out there. This one is for you.

So delulu and so single I write Valentines Day fics for fictional men...

ANYWAYS... Happy Valentines Day!

Lucifer Morningstar did not get nervous.

He inspired nervousness.

He caused heart palpitations.

He reduced grown adults to stammering wrecks with a single look.

He did not get nervous.

Which is precisely why he had been standing in front of his big penthouse mirror for the last twenty minutes.

First, it started with adjusting his cufflinks.

Then he tilted his head and smirked.

“No, no, too smug,” he muttered to his reflection. “We’re going for devastatingly romantic, not ‘I’m-about-to-ruin-your-life.’”

He straightened his tie. Took it off. Put it back on. Took it off once again.

For heaven’s sake.

Wait…

His eyes drifted to the piano.

Where there should have been a very large, very expensive, very Lucifer-type dramatic bouquet of deep red roses.

There was nothing.

Lucifer just blinked.

He turned slowly, and he could’ve sworn his heart sank.

The bouquet—imported, hand-selected, flown in from a private grower in Italy because “basic florist roses are an insult”—was not on the piano.

His eyes narrowed.

“…No.”

He checked the bar.

Nothing.

He looked behind the couch.

Absolutely nothing.

His jaw tightened.

“Maze!” he shouted instinctively—then stopped. She wasn’t here.

Lucifer began walking briskly through the penthouse, trying to maintain dignity.

“Right. Not panicking. Not panicking. I am the Devil. I command legions. I do not misplace flowers.”

Lucifer checked the kitchen island. Empty.

He ran a hand through his hair.

“Oh, this is absurd. I had them delivered personally. I remember setting them down. I even adjusted the ribbon because it was tied like a psychopath did it.”

He stopped in the middle of the room.

His eyes widened slightly.

“What if someone took them?”

His mind immediately spiraled into the most dramatic conclusion possible.

A rival? A jealous admirer of yours? A celestial prank?

“Did Amenadiel move them?” he muttered darkly. “Is this some sort of brotherly sabotage?”

He stormed back toward the piano.

And then—

He froze.

There they were.

Behind the piano.

Perfectly safe.

Right where he had placed them… after deciding the lighting was better from that angle.

He stared at them.

Long pause.

He straightened slowly.

“Of course they’re there,” he said calmly to the empty room. “I put them there. Strategically.”

He walked over, picking them up carefully.

A massive bouquet of velvety red roses, dark and lush and dramatic. Exactly his style.

He inspected them like a general reviewing troops.

“Right. Excellent. See? Never lost. Merely… repositioned.”

He exhaled slowly.

And walked back to his room.

The Devil dragged a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. “It’s just an individual,” he told himself. He’s seduced individuals all the time. This is a piece of cake. You’re just another one.

Not just an individual.

You.

Stunning. Intelligent. Kind in a way that didn’t feel naive. You just had this quiet strength about you, the kind that didn’t need to be announced. And Lucifer had known from the first moment he saw you that you were dangerous.

Not because you were wicked. Because you weren’t.

You made him feel things. And that was frankly unacceptable.

He then glanced over at the velvet box that rested on the piano. It wasn’t a ring—he wasn’t proposing. Though he hated to admit that he had thought about it more than once in his existence. But it was a necklace. Elegant. Understated. Like you. In fact, it was a necklace you had mentioned in passing a few months ago.

Lucifer walked over, picked it up, and ran a finger over the gem.

“Valentine’s Day,” he murmured. “Ridiculous human holiday.”

Never in centuries had he done Valentine’s Day.

Yet here he was.

Checking himself in the mirror again. In every reflection—picture frames, the piano, any glass surface—he was checking himself more and more.

“You are Lucifer Bloody Morningstar. Ruler of Hell. Former Lightbringer. You do not get nervous asking an individual to be your Valentine.”

Pause.

“…Unless.”

He thought about you again. His jaw tightened just slightly.

Because this wasn’t about seduction. Not really. He’d seduced thousands. Effortless. A wink, a whisper, a slow walk across Lux.

But you?

You didn’t melt when he flirted.

You smiled knowingly. Teased him back. Challenged him. That’s what did it for him, always.

And when you laughed—God, that laugh—it wasn’t because he was the Devil.

It was because he was him.

That’s what terrified him.

Meanwhile, you were at home, unaware that the literal Devil was spiraling in a penthouse mirror crisis over you.

Lucifer checked his reflection one final time.

Black suit. Perfectly tailored. Open collar. Just enough skin to suggest sin.

“Yes,” he decided. “That will do.”

He grabbed the necklace, slipped it into his pocket, picked up the flowers, and in a flash, he was gone.

A knock sounded at your door.

When you opened it, you nearly forgot how to breathe.

Lucifer stood there like temptation incarnate. Dark suit. Smirk perfectly in place. But his eyes—

His eyes were softer than usual.

“Well,” he drawled, looking you up and down slowly, appreciatively, “I was going to begin with something charming and witty, but I appear to have temporarily forgotten the English language.”

You laughed lightly. “Lucifer.”

“Mmm. Say it again.”

He stepped inside without waiting for permission—typical—but he didn’t crowd you. Not yet.

“You look…” he exhaled through his nose. “Bloody hell.”

He ran a hand through his hair—subtle, but you noticed.

Was he—

No.

Impossible.

“The Devil’s flustered?” you teased gently.

He scoffed immediately. “Flustered? Please. I’ve survived celestial wars, darling.”

But his fingers brushed against his cuff again.

“And yet,” you said softly, stepping closer, “you keep fixing that.”

His gaze dropped to your lips for half a second before returning to your eyes.

“Observant. That’s one of the many, many things I adore about you.”

Adore.

He hadn’t meant to say that.

You saw the flicker in his expression.

Lucifer inhaled slowly, then straightened his shoulders.

Right. Enough.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the small velvet box.

“For someone who claims not to care about silly human traditions,” you said gently, “you look suspiciously prepared.”

He stepped closer now. Close enough that you could feel his warmth.

“Valentine’s Day,” he said softly, his voice losing some of its playful edge. “A celebration of desire, devotion, and dramatic gestures. Frankly, it’s tailor-made for me.”

You smiled. “Of course.”

“But,” he continued, his eyes locking with yours, more vulnerable than you’d ever seen, “this isn’t about a holiday.”

He opened the box, revealing the necklace glinting softly in the light.

“It’s about you.”

You blinked, stunned.

Lucifer Morningstar looked at you like you were the only thing in existence.

Judging by the look on your face, he had definitely still got it — and he totally wasn’t nervous.