yesihaveaobsession

[yesihaveaobsession]

tom ellis lucifer morningstar (dc) x female ! news reporter reader

Summary: A confident reporter (you) walks into Lux for an interview—Lucifer Morningstar turns it into a dangerously flirtatious game of charm, wit, and temptation.

A/N- Decided to do something a little different, so I hope y'all enjoy! :))

Also, haven't gotten a chance to do the sneak peak of the Tom Ellis fic, so I'll do that sometime this week. Although I'm gonna be MIA next week because I'm going to a concert out of state and visiting some family! So I'm putting this out to hold y'all over.

Lux shimmered beneath the haze of low lighting, the music sultry. The drinks were stronger than most people could handle.

Now, Lucifer had seen countless beautiful women cross his path… but when you walked in?

Time. Utterly. Stopped.

He straightened from where he was lounged against the bar, his eyes following every sway of your hips. That pencil skirt clung to your curves like sin itself. Heels high enough to kill. Blouse tucked in just enough to spark curiosity… And that face. God help him—well, not God, but you get the idea.

Smart. Sharp. So damn confident it was borderline rude.

You were the kind of woman who could either ruin or save a man—depending on how he begged. And Lucifer Morningstar? He wasn't above begging.

“Ah, you must be my delicious little journalist,” he purred as you approached, his gaze leisurely drinking you in. “You've got that dangerous mix of brains and legs for days. Do come in.”

You gave a practiced smile—tight, professional. “I'm here to talk about Lux, Mr. Morningstar. Your rise in the LA nightlife scene. Not about legs or… whatever else you're mentally undressing.”

“Oh, so you noticed,” Lucifer grinned, unapologetic. “Good. Then I can stop pretending,” he said, taking a slow sip from the drink in his hand—never taking his eyes off you.

You pulled your tablet from your black purse and tapped it to life, pulling up your notes. “Let’s begin. I only need about twenty minutes of your time.”

“Oh, take as much time as you need, love. In fact…” He stepped closer, voice dropping like a well-aged bourbon. “Are you certain we’ve never had sex?”

You blinked. Not amused. “I beg your pardon?”

“You just look… terribly familiar. Especially in that blouse. I’m quite sure I’ve seen you naked before.” He tilted his head, eyes dancing with delight. “Did we have sex? No? Pity. But God, do I want to.”

You exhaled slowly, eyes dropping back to your notes. “That’s not how interviews work.”

“Well, technically…” Lucifer leaned in again—barely a breath between you—his voice curling like smoke. “You’re the one asking the questions, but I think it’s only fair I get a few of my own.”

He glanced—slowly—down your body, lingering far too long. A crooked smile played across his lips. “For instance—what color is that delightful little number underneath your blouse?”

You didn’t answer. Not with words. But the twitch of your brow said everything.

Lucifer just smirked, utterly unbothered by your lack of amusement. “No need to be shy. I’m just a curious devil.”

“Let’s stick to the topic,” you said tightly, glancing up from your tablet. “Lux. Your clientele. Your business model.”

“Business model?” Lucifer echoed, pretending to think. “Right. Step one—own club. Step two—fill it with sex, sin, and scandal. Step three—invite devastatingly attractive reporters upstairs for a private tour.”

You stared at him. “Subtle.”

“Never claimed to be.” His grin was wicked. “Come, darling. Let me give you the real story. Up in the penthouse. It’s quieter there. Fewer distractions. Unless, of course, you plan on being one.”

You hesitated. Not because you were tempted. (Okay… maybe a little.) But you knew the type. Smooth. Beautiful. Dangerous. The soon-to-be-claimed devil in designer suits and charm you could drown in.

You narrowed your eyes. “You’re not going to stop, are you?”

“Absolutely not.” He offered his arm like a gentleman—one who had absolutely no gentlemanly intentions. “But don’t worry. I’ll be good… ish.”

With a sigh and a raised brow that said you were both annoyed and intrigued, you took the arm he offered.

“Only for the interview,” you warned.

Lucifer grinned like the cat who had just been handed the keys to the creamery. “Oh, darling,” he whispered as he led you to the elevator, “By the end of tonight, you may just be writing a whole different kind of story.”

The elevator ride up to his penthouse was velvet silence, thick with unspoken tension. Lucifer, of course, didn’t hide his gaze—oh no. He admired you.

Every damn curve. Every carefully calculated breath. You pretended not to notice. He pretended to behave. You were both lying.

The doors slid open to reveal the penthouse, bathed in golden lamplight. The city stretched out behind the glass in a blur of stars and sin. A bottle of whiskey was already open.

So was trouble.

Lucifer walked you in like a proper host—if proper hosts stared at your hips like they were trying to memorize the exact geometry of your sway.

“Make yourself comfortable, gorgeous,” he said, his voice dripping with deep, honeyed sin. “Would you like something to drink? Whiskey? Wine? Something stronger?”

“I’m working,” you reminded him, settling on the velvet couch after taking in the view. You crossed your legs.

Lucifer stared. Openly. Hungrily.

God, those legs.

Still, he brought over two glasses anyway, handing you one like it was foreplay.

You took it. Begrudgingly.

“Alright,” you said, lifting your tablet. “Let’s get this over with. First question—what made you open Lux?”

Lucifer dropped onto the seat beside you, lounging like a predator in satin.

“Darling, I’ve always had a taste for indulgence. Music. Pleasure. Decadence. Lux is just a very expensive extension of my personality. And excellent lighting.”

You typed, fingers poised. “Clientele?”

“Wicked. Wild. A bit lost,” he said, eyes flicking to your lips. “Just the way I like them.”

You ignored that. Barely.

“Why do you think Lux became such a success?”

Lucifer smiled slow, leaning in. His voice lowered like a secret. “Because I don’t pretend here. This place? It’s honest about what people want.”

You glanced at him. “And what do you think people want?”

“You’re a smart girl, gorgeous. You already know what they want.” He paused, grin growing. “What do you want?”

“I want a quote,” you replied dryly, scrolling through your notes.

“Oh, I’ll give you more than that,” he purred. “In fact…”

He set his drink down in front of you both, leaning in so close you could smell his cologne—dark, spicy, sinful. His eyes dragged over you like they were hands.

“I’ll give the woman with the legs of a goddess, the confidence of a lioness, and the cutest bloody hip sway I’ve ever seen… a story by tomorrow morning.”

His smile curled. “You might be walking a little funny, but you’ll have it.”

Your lips parted—just slightly. He saw it.

You recovered fast. “Mr. Morningstar—”

“Lucifer,” he corrected, lazy and smug.

“Lucifer, I’m not going to sleep with you to get a quote.”

Lucifer raised both hands in mock innocence. “Who said anything about sleeping? You’d be wide awake, trust me.”

You looked down, trying—desperately—to hide the grin tugging at your lips. “You’re incorrigible.”

“Deliciously so,” he said, absolutely shameless.

Your eyes met his again. And for just a second… He saw you falter. Saw want flash in those sharp, professional eyes.

You cleared your throat. “Next question. Where do you see Lux in five years?”

Lucifer smirked, reaching for his drink. “Right here. Still dripping in sin. Still the sexiest place in LA. Still run by me—preferably shirtless. Maybe with a certain stunning, sharp reporter at my side…”

He sipped. Winked.

“…or beneath me.”

You choked on your whiskey. Lucifer grinned like the devil.

“Too far?” he asked sweetly.

You wiped your mouth, trying not to laugh—or scream. “I hate you.”

“Oh no, you don’t,” he whispered, eyes burning into you. “You’re just mad I’m saying everything you’re thinking.”

--

If you liked this piece feel free to give a follow and check out my other work that's pinned to my page! <3

-@yesihaveaobsession

[yesihaveaobsession]

tom ellis lucifer morningstar (dc) x female!fallenangel (& maze)

Summary: Maze convinces the reader, a shy fallen angel, to draw on a sleeping Lucifer’s face. When he wakes up, she nervously blames Maze — but instead of anger, Lucifer laughs it off, and the three share a rare, lighthearted moment.

A/N- Still working on that Tom Ellis fic that I wanted to try out and see how y'all like it and like the format of it. So maybe sometime next week I'll put it out and see how well it does. :)

Maybe I'll put a little teaser out some time this week and see if y'all like the idea or if I should just scrap it!!

The penthouse was cloaked in dim light, the hum of traffic far below muted by luxury. Jazz played softly in the background — a record that had long since been forgotten. Lucifer liked to listen to jazz when he was in that mood, usually when he was alone in the penthouse.

Well, he wasn’t alone anymore. You had gotten used to the sound.

Lucifer was asleep on the velvet couch, still in his suit. His shirt was wide open — five buttons either undone or halfway there, as if he’d been falling asleep mid-motion. His dress shoes were kicked off. His chest rose and fell in the slow rhythm of deep rest. One arm hung dramatically over the backrest.

You — his fallen angel, though he’d never admit it out loud — sat heavy on the floor, your legs tucked beneath you. You still had a faint glow, barely there but enough that even in the dark, even now… fallen and healing, you looked like something carved from starlight. So celestial. So unreal.

Lucifer had told you that every bloody day.

You tilted your head at him, brows drawn in curiosity. “He… sleeps.”

Maze, who was also there, looked up from her spot beside you. At first, she had been iffy about you. Pretty. Quiet. And you fell on Lucifer’s car? That was weird. But over time, she got to know you — realized you were quiet, yes, but also had a way of sassing Lucifer with just a few words. She loved that.

Now, her boots were crossed at the ankles and a marker twirled between her fingers, like it was one of her daggers.

“He doesn’t just sleep — he performs sleep,” she smirked, watching him.

You looked at her, confused. “Perform?”

Maze only grinned wider. “Trust me.” She leaned forward, eyeing Lucifer’s face. “That smug mug is practically begging for upgrades.”

Your gaze followed the marker in her hand. “Upgrade?”

“Devil horns,” Maze whispered like it was sacred. “And a mustache. Maybe a goatee. We’ll see where the spirit takes us.”

You stiffened. “No…”

Maze raised a brow. “Oh come on, feathers. He can take it. He needs to be taken down a peg. Plus, it’ll be funny.”

You hesitated. Just a moment, but it felt longer. Your wings were long gone, but grace still lived in your bones. Maze leaned in, eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Trust me. This’ll be the best thing you do all week.”

A beat. Then another.

Then… you nodded. Small. But real. “Okay.”

Maze beamed. “Atta girl.”

She handed you the marker. Carefully, nervously, you leaned over Lucifer’s peaceful — still annoyingly beautiful — sleeping face. With a trembling hand, you drew two tiny horns, arched and careful, at the top of his forehead. You bit your lip to suppress a giggle. It felt… wrong.

But also kind of good.

Maze snorted. “Nice touch.”

Then she took the marker and added to your work — a thick, curly mustache, a little pointed goatee, and — because she couldn’t help herself — dramatic villain brows.

You let out a quiet, airy laugh.

Maze froze. “That… was a giggle.”

She grinned wide. “You do have a sense of humor.”

You covered your mouth, eyes shining.

“Okay, now hold still,” Maze said, lifting her phone. Click. “This is art.”

But just as the camera flash faded… Lucifer stirred.

His brows crinkled. His fingers brushed his upper lip where he felt a faint tingle. He blinked his eyes open — slowly, suspiciously.

Maze was already grinning. You, on the other hand, froze. Panic rose in your chest.

His voice was groggy from sleep, but still unmistakably him. “Why do I feel like someone used my face as a sketchpad?”

You swallowed. Then said—

“Maze… told… sorry.”

You completely threw her under the bus.

Lucifer sat up slowly, hand smudged with black ink. His eyes met yours.

Wide. Guilty. And still so gorgeous.

And then…

“Well,” he muttered, lips twitching, “I do look rather dashing with facial hair.” (Although, to be fair, he already had a little scruff.)

Maze laughed from her chest. “Told you. He likes it.”

Lucifer rubbed at the marker. “Oh, I wouldn’t say like. But I do appreciate the dedication to detail. Very horns-forward. Very me.”

You peeked up at him. “Not mad?”

He looked at you. Really looked. And something in him softened.

“No, love,” he said, voice low and smooth. “Not mad.”

Then, raising a brow at Maze: “But you — you’re on very thin, very stylish ice.”

Maze raised her beer bottle. “Worth it.”

“You laughed,” he said again, this time looking at you. “You really laughed.”

You nodded, a little smile curling. “Maze… helped.”

He smiled — not smug, not flirtatious. Just soft. Warm.

“I think I’m starting to like her,” he murmured. “Just a little.”

Maze groaned. “Ugh. Gross. Don’t get all feelings on me.”

Lucifer winked. “Too late.”

And just like that — with a marker, a picture, and a giggle — the fallen angel, the demon, and the devil sat in the glow of something that felt suspiciously like family.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

P.S. If you enjoyed this piece and want to read more of my work, feel free to check out my masterlist pinned to my page! For Lucifer, there's a mini masterlist featuring fics with x fallen angel reader and x female reader. :) Thanks so much for reading! – @yesihaveaobsession <3

[yesihaveaobsession]

tom ellis lucifer morningstar (dc) x female!fallenangel (& maze)

Summary: Maze convinces the reader, a shy fallen angel, to draw on a sleeping Lucifer’s face. When he wakes up, she nervously blames Maze — but instead of anger, Lucifer laughs it off, and the three share a rare, lighthearted moment.

A/N- Still working on that Tom Ellis fic that I wanted to try out and see how y'all like it and like the format of it. So maybe sometime next week I'll put it out and see how well it does. :)

Maybe I'll put a little teaser out some time this week and see if y'all like the idea or if I should just scrap it!!

The penthouse was cloaked in dim light, the hum of traffic far below muted by luxury. Jazz played softly in the background — a record that had long since been forgotten. Lucifer liked to listen to jazz when he was in that mood, usually when he was alone in the penthouse.

Well, he wasn’t alone anymore. You had gotten used to the sound.

Lucifer was asleep on the velvet couch, still in his suit. His shirt was wide open — five buttons either undone or halfway there, as if he’d been falling asleep mid-motion. His dress shoes were kicked off. His chest rose and fell in the slow rhythm of deep rest. One arm hung dramatically over the backrest.

You — his fallen angel, though he’d never admit it out loud — sat heavy on the floor, your legs tucked beneath you. You still had a faint glow, barely there but enough that even in the dark, even now… fallen and healing, you looked like something carved from starlight. So celestial. So unreal.

Lucifer had told you that every bloody day.

You tilted your head at him, brows drawn in curiosity. “He… sleeps.”

Maze, who was also there, looked up from her spot beside you. At first, she had been iffy about you. Pretty. Quiet. And you fell on Lucifer’s car? That was weird. But over time, she got to know you — realized you were quiet, yes, but also had a way of sassing Lucifer with just a few words. She loved that.

Now, her boots were crossed at the ankles and a marker twirled between her fingers, like it was one of her daggers.

“He doesn’t just sleep — he performs sleep,” she smirked, watching him.

You looked at her, confused. “Perform?”

Maze only grinned wider. “Trust me.” She leaned forward, eyeing Lucifer’s face. “That smug mug is practically begging for upgrades.”

Your gaze followed the marker in her hand. “Upgrade?”

“Devil horns,” Maze whispered like it was sacred. “And a mustache. Maybe a goatee. We’ll see where the spirit takes us.”

You stiffened. “No…”

Maze raised a brow. “Oh come on, feathers. He can take it. He needs to be taken down a peg. Plus, it’ll be funny.”

You hesitated. Just a moment, but it felt longer. Your wings were long gone, but grace still lived in your bones. Maze leaned in, eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Trust me. This’ll be the best thing you do all week.”

A beat. Then another.

Then… you nodded. Small. But real. “Okay.”

Maze beamed. “Atta girl.”

She handed you the marker. Carefully, nervously, you leaned over Lucifer’s peaceful — still annoyingly beautiful — sleeping face. With a trembling hand, you drew two tiny horns, arched and careful, at the top of his forehead. You bit your lip to suppress a giggle. It felt… wrong.

But also kind of good.

Maze snorted. “Nice touch.”

Then she took the marker and added to your work — a thick, curly mustache, a little pointed goatee, and — because she couldn’t help herself — dramatic villain brows.

You let out a quiet, airy laugh.

Maze froze. “That… was a giggle.”

She grinned wide. “You do have a sense of humor.”

You covered your mouth, eyes shining.

“Okay, now hold still,” Maze said, lifting her phone. Click. “This is art.”

But just as the camera flash faded… Lucifer stirred.

His brows crinkled. His fingers brushed his upper lip where he felt a faint tingle. He blinked his eyes open — slowly, suspiciously.

Maze was already grinning. You, on the other hand, froze. Panic rose in your chest.

His voice was groggy from sleep, but still unmistakably him. “Why do I feel like someone used my face as a sketchpad?”

You swallowed. Then said—

“Maze… told… sorry.”

You completely threw her under the bus.

Lucifer sat up slowly, hand smudged with black ink. His eyes met yours.

Wide. Guilty. And still so gorgeous.

And then…

“Well,” he muttered, lips twitching, “I do look rather dashing with facial hair.” (Although, to be fair, he already had a little scruff.)

Maze laughed from her chest. “Told you. He likes it.”

Lucifer rubbed at the marker. “Oh, I wouldn’t say like. But I do appreciate the dedication to detail. Very horns-forward. Very me.”

You peeked up at him. “Not mad?”

He looked at you. Really looked. And something in him softened.

“No, love,” he said, voice low and smooth. “Not mad.”

Then, raising a brow at Maze: “But you — you’re on very thin, very stylish ice.”

Maze raised her beer bottle. “Worth it.”

“You laughed,” he said again, this time looking at you. “You really laughed.”

You nodded, a little smile curling. “Maze… helped.”

He smiled — not smug, not flirtatious. Just soft. Warm.

“I think I’m starting to like her,” he murmured. “Just a little.”

Maze groaned. “Ugh. Gross. Don’t get all feelings on me.”

Lucifer winked. “Too late.”

And just like that — with a marker, a picture, and a giggle — the fallen angel, the demon, and the devil sat in the glow of something that felt suspiciously like family.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

P.S. If you enjoyed this piece and want to read more of my work, feel free to check out my masterlist pinned to my page! For Lucifer, there's a mini masterlist featuring fics with x fallen angel reader and x female reader. :) Thanks so much for reading! – @yesihaveaobsession <3

[yesihaveaobsession]

alastor (hazbin hotel) x female!reader

Summary: The reader (you) joins Alastor on a mysterious nighttime walk through Hell, witnessing the fear and admiration he stirs while a quiet connection begins to grow between them.

A/N- Alastor fic is out! Hope y'all enjoy! :) ALSO, I'm gonna be trying something that is a Tom Ellis fic so stay tuned!

You weren’t exactly sure what possessed you to say yes. Maybe it was the teasing lilt in his voice, the way his grin seemed to curl just a touch more when he asked, “Care to accompany me on a little outing, my dear?” Or maybe it was pure curiosity. Alastor never explained where he went or what he did when he wandered Hell’s winding streets alone.

Despite others telling you not to go, you naturally agreed.

The moment your arm threaded through his, you noticed it—the subtle shift in the atmosphere. One second, Hell’s usual buzz of noise and chaos surrounded you, the acrid scent of brimstone and burning oil thick in the air, and the next… silence.

Well, almost.

Your heels tapped along the cracked sidewalks as you kept—or at least tried to keep—stride with him, but it was hard to ignore the way people reacted as you passed.

Some stared, wide-eyed and pale, pressing their backs to the walls of buildings like they were trying to disappear into the brick itself. Their eyes flicked nervously from Alastor’s glowing red gaze to the confident way he walked, and some even crossed the street entirely.

Others, though… they flocked.

Demons with radiant smiles and arms outstretched approached him like old friends at a reunion, some even linking arms or falling into step beside him with laughter and fond greetings. One called out, “Mon chéri, you’ve returned!” as if he were royalty. And yet, their voices all held a strange undertone—admiration, yes, but also caution. Like he was fire. Beautiful and warm… right until you got too close.

You glanced up at him. He seemed… content.

Not proud. Not smug. Just content. Like this was exactly how the world should react to him.

“So,” you said quietly, afraid you'd say the wrong thing as you both walked under a flickering streetlamp, the light buzzing faintly like an old radio, “you inspire very mixed feelings.”

Alastor’s grin didn’t falter. “Ah, fear and fascination—the twin flames of respect, wouldn’t you agree?” He turned to look at you, eyes gleaming like embers. “People remember those who leave an impression.”

You hummed. “And which do you prefer?”

He let out a radio-static laugh. Not loud, not manic—just a smooth, rich chuckle that rippled through the air like a warm crackle. “Oh, darling, why not both? A little spark here, a little shiver there—keeps the dance lively, don’t you think?”

He led you into a small courtyard you didn’t even know existed, nestled between two towering buildings. It was eerily quiet—surprisingly so, especially for Hell. No noise but the gentle buzz of old neon signs and the low hum of a distant radio playing a tune from a forgotten decade. The scent of ash and something sweet—maybe caramelized fruit? Hung in the air and it mixing with the faint chill that brushed your skin like a whispered secret.

Alastor plucked a flower growing from the cracked stone and handed it to you with a playful bow. “For my lovely companion. You’ve been delightfully brave tonight.”

You took it, your fingers brushing against his clawed hand. A strange flutter caught your chest, one you didn’t expect to feel tonight. “You make it sound like I followed you into a lion’s den.”

He straightened, smile still sharp. “Have you not?”

His eyes held yours for a beat longer than they needed to. Not threatening. Not soft either. Just… deliberate. Curious. Studying you like he was trying to understand why you weren’t like the others. Why you hadn’t bolted the first chance you got.

You didn’t pull away. You held your ground.

Something in his expression flickered. Just a fraction. Like a radio signal caught between stations—there, and gone. But then he turned again, offering his arm.

“Shall we continue?”

You nodded and looped your arm back through his.

And as you walked deeper into the neon-drenched night, you couldn’t help but feel a warm thrill of something new—a feeling that perhaps you were exactly where you were meant to be.

[yesihaveaobsession]

tom ellis lucifer morningstar x female!reader (amenadiel mentioned)

Summary: The reader (you) sneak into Lucifer’s penthouse under the excuse of retrieving a book—but it’s more than that. The tension between you and Lucifer grows, undeniable and dangerous. While Amenadiel remains clueless, secretly seeing Dr. Linda, Lucifer sees you—for who you really are. And when the truth finally comes out, someone’s heart will break. Maybe even all three.

A/N- SO, this is part 2 to the one request I got a while back! So I hope y'all like this part! :)) ALSO Alastor fic soon! and I UPDATED MY MASTERLISTS COMPLETELY AND THEY ARE AT EAST\Y ACCESS (all pinned to my page)

PART ONE: https://www.tumblr.com/yesihaveaobsession/784669486941880320/tom-ellis-lucifer-dc-x-femalereader-amenadiel

The ride in the elevator was taking bloody forever. But the soft ding of the elevator was quiet—too quiet. Well, besides the thumping of your once-but-still-beating heart.

You told yourself that you were there—at Lucifer’s penthouse—just to pick up your book. The one you left in a booth at Lux the other night. You’d told yourself that at least twenty times in the last three minutes.

You inwardly winced as the doors slid open.

The low hum of jazz—his kind of jazz, the kind he liked when he was alone or when he was trying to be romantic—and the scent of expensive whiskey hit you instantly. You were hoping—really hoping—Lucifer wouldn’t be there.

He was.

Of course he was.

He stood at the bar in that damned tailored three-piece suit that hugged him like bloody sin itself. His jacket was off, sleeves of his dress shirt rolled up just a bit, collar loose, and his dark eyes lifted before you even stepped all the way into the penthouse.

As if he knew.

“Ah,” he murmured, voice like silk soaked in temptation, “I was beginning to think you wouldn’t come.”

You ignored him. Or tried to. In and out. That’s it.

Amenadiel still had no idea you were hanging around Lux—or that this was the third time you'd been at Lucifer’s penthouse.

“I’m just here to get my book,” you said softly, brushing past him toward the velvet couch. “I left it at Lux the other night.” You didn’t make eye contact.

“Mm. Yes,” Lucifer said as he slowly turned to pour two glasses of whiskey. “I remember. You were wearing that slinky little celestial-blue dress. The one that made every man in the room want to commit cardinal sins.” Damn him.

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. Your cheeks betrayed you with warmth, but you kept your face turned, eyes scanning the shelves, the coffee table—anywhere but him.

“It’s on the piano,” he added casually, stepping out from behind the bar with a glass in each hand.

You turned, finally meeting his gaze. That mistake cost you—because there it was again. That damnable look. Like you were light in a world full of shadow. Like you meant something.

“Thanks,” you muttered, moving to grab it quickly, eager to leave before anything… happened.

“Stay,” he said.

It wasn’t a question.

“I shouldn’t,” you whispered.

“But you want to.” That grin—wicked and knowing—pulled at his lips.

You sighed. “Lucifer…”

He offered you the drink. You hesitated—then took it.

“Just one,” you lied.

The first sip burned—in the best way.

The silence stretched, thick with history. Memory. Desire.

He was watching you again. No smirk this time. Just that unsettling honesty he wore when no one else was around. The version of him that made you ache—because deep down, this was the real Lucifer Morningstar.

“I’ve been thinking,” he said suddenly, his voice quieter now. “Not just about you, though admittedly, that’s been a rather… persistent pastime lately.”

You shot him a warning glance. “Lucifer.”

He raised his hands in mock innocence. “Fine, fine. But tell me something, love… have you ever considered that dear old Dad didn’t actually craft you for Amenadiel?”

You froze. Your glass was halfway to your lips.

Lucifer leaned in, resting his elbows on the bar, studying you like a riddle he was close—too close—to solving.

“I mean,” he continued, tone deceptively light, “it’s rather on-brand for the Big Guy to dress up obligation as destiny, isn’t it? You—with your fire and your doubt and that divine spark that doesn’t want to follow rules—you were made for Amenadiel?”

You didn’t answer.

“Or maybe,” he murmured, “you were just placed with him. Because Heaven knew Amenadiel needed something beautiful to keep him obedient.”

You turned slowly. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t I?” His voice dropped lower. “Because I see you. I know you. And I know how hard it is to walk around pretending you’re something you’re not. How much it costs you to keep choosing someone because you should… not because you want to.”

Silence.

He stepped closer. His hand brushed against yours to take your now empty glass, setting it down behind you.

You inhaled—but it hitched when you realized how close he was now. The warmth. His scent. The soft thrum of that old song playing in the background— It was all too much.

“You could leave,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “Walk out that door. Go back to him. Keep playing perfect.”

You turned your face, your eyes finding the skyline through the glass windows. Your lips parted, but no words came out.

“Or…” Lucifer murmured, his fingers brushing a lock of your hair back behind your ear, “You could stop pretending you don’t feel this. That you don’t want to burn for once instead of fading.”

Your eyes closed.

“Lucifer…”

He pulled back slightly. Just enough to let you breathe again. But not enough to take the weight of his words with him.

“I’ll wait. I told you I would. But sooner or later, angel, you’re going to realize you weren’t made for someone else’s purpose. You were made to be free.”

You just stared into those eyes—his eyes—your heart caught in your throat.

And neither of you noticed the soft hum of the other elevator down the hall. The one Amenadiel stepped into after leaving Dr. Linda’s office.

The same Dr. Linda who was now seeing Amenadiel outside of therapy hours.

Neither of you knew. Not yet.

But you would.

And when everything came crashing down— You didn’t know whose heart would break more.

Yours.

Lucifer’s.

Or Amenadiel’s.

[yesihaveaobsession]

tom ellis lucifer morningstar x female!reader (amenadiel mentioned)

Summary: The reader (you) sneak into Lucifer’s penthouse under the excuse of retrieving a book—but it’s more than that. The tension between you and Lucifer grows, undeniable and dangerous. While Amenadiel remains clueless, secretly seeing Dr. Linda, Lucifer sees you—for who you really are. And when the truth finally comes out, someone’s heart will break. Maybe even all three.

A/N- SO, this is part 2 to the one request I got a while back! So I hope y'all like this part! :)) ALSO Alastor fic soon! and I UPDATED MY MASTERLISTS COMPLETELY AND THEY ARE AT EAST\Y ACCESS (all pinned to my page)

PART ONE: https://www.tumblr.com/yesihaveaobsession/784669486941880320/tom-ellis-lucifer-dc-x-femalereader-amenadiel

The ride in the elevator was taking bloody forever. But the soft ding of the elevator was quiet—too quiet. Well, besides the thumping of your once-but-still-beating heart.

You told yourself that you were there—at Lucifer’s penthouse—just to pick up your book. The one you left in a booth at Lux the other night. You’d told yourself that at least twenty times in the last three minutes.

You inwardly winced as the doors slid open.

The low hum of jazz—his kind of jazz, the kind he liked when he was alone or when he was trying to be romantic—and the scent of expensive whiskey hit you instantly. You were hoping—really hoping—Lucifer wouldn’t be there.

He was.

Of course he was.

He stood at the bar in that damned tailored three-piece suit that hugged him like bloody sin itself. His jacket was off, sleeves of his dress shirt rolled up just a bit, collar loose, and his dark eyes lifted before you even stepped all the way into the penthouse.

As if he knew.

“Ah,” he murmured, voice like silk soaked in temptation, “I was beginning to think you wouldn’t come.”

You ignored him. Or tried to. In and out. That’s it.

Amenadiel still had no idea you were hanging around Lux—or that this was the third time you'd been at Lucifer’s penthouse.

“I’m just here to get my book,” you said softly, brushing past him toward the velvet couch. “I left it at Lux the other night.” You didn’t make eye contact.

“Mm. Yes,” Lucifer said as he slowly turned to pour two glasses of whiskey. “I remember. You were wearing that slinky little celestial-blue dress. The one that made every man in the room want to commit cardinal sins.” Damn him.

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. Your cheeks betrayed you with warmth, but you kept your face turned, eyes scanning the shelves, the coffee table—anywhere but him.

“It’s on the piano,” he added casually, stepping out from behind the bar with a glass in each hand.

You turned, finally meeting his gaze. That mistake cost you—because there it was again. That damnable look. Like you were light in a world full of shadow. Like you meant something.

“Thanks,” you muttered, moving to grab it quickly, eager to leave before anything… happened.

“Stay,” he said.

It wasn’t a question.

“I shouldn’t,” you whispered.

“But you want to.” That grin—wicked and knowing—pulled at his lips.

You sighed. “Lucifer…”

He offered you the drink. You hesitated—then took it.

“Just one,” you lied.

The first sip burned—in the best way.

The silence stretched, thick with history. Memory. Desire.

He was watching you again. No smirk this time. Just that unsettling honesty he wore when no one else was around. The version of him that made you ache—because deep down, this was the real Lucifer Morningstar.

“I’ve been thinking,” he said suddenly, his voice quieter now. “Not just about you, though admittedly, that’s been a rather… persistent pastime lately.”

You shot him a warning glance. “Lucifer.”

He raised his hands in mock innocence. “Fine, fine. But tell me something, love… have you ever considered that dear old Dad didn’t actually craft you for Amenadiel?”

You froze. Your glass was halfway to your lips.

Lucifer leaned in, resting his elbows on the bar, studying you like a riddle he was close—too close—to solving.

“I mean,” he continued, tone deceptively light, “it’s rather on-brand for the Big Guy to dress up obligation as destiny, isn’t it? You—with your fire and your doubt and that divine spark that doesn’t want to follow rules—you were made for Amenadiel?”

You didn’t answer.

“Or maybe,” he murmured, “you were just placed with him. Because Heaven knew Amenadiel needed something beautiful to keep him obedient.”

You turned slowly. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t I?” His voice dropped lower. “Because I see you. I know you. And I know how hard it is to walk around pretending you’re something you’re not. How much it costs you to keep choosing someone because you should… not because you want to.”

Silence.

He stepped closer. His hand brushed against yours to take your now empty glass, setting it down behind you.

You inhaled—but it hitched when you realized how close he was now. The warmth. His scent. The soft thrum of that old song playing in the background— It was all too much.

“You could leave,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “Walk out that door. Go back to him. Keep playing perfect.”

You turned your face, your eyes finding the skyline through the glass windows. Your lips parted, but no words came out.

“Or…” Lucifer murmured, his fingers brushing a lock of your hair back behind your ear, “You could stop pretending you don’t feel this. That you don’t want to burn for once instead of fading.”

Your eyes closed.

“Lucifer…”

He pulled back slightly. Just enough to let you breathe again. But not enough to take the weight of his words with him.

“I’ll wait. I told you I would. But sooner or later, angel, you’re going to realize you weren’t made for someone else’s purpose. You were made to be free.”

You just stared into those eyes—his eyes—your heart caught in your throat.

And neither of you noticed the soft hum of the other elevator down the hall. The one Amenadiel stepped into after leaving Dr. Linda’s office.

The same Dr. Linda who was now seeing Amenadiel outside of therapy hours.

Neither of you knew. Not yet.

But you would.

And when everything came crashing down— You didn’t know whose heart would break more.

Yours.

Lucifer’s.

Or Amenadiel’s.

[yesihaveaobsession]

[yesihaveaobsession]

tom ellis lucifer morningstar x female!fallenangel reader

Summary: On the Fourth of July, Lucifer watches a fallen angel learn about freedom and fireworks. In her quiet wonder, he finds a chaos worth falling into.

A/N- Happy Independence Day to those who do celebrate! Here is a cute little Fem! Fallen Angel Fourth of July fic for y'all, I hope y'all enjoy!! And be safe! :)) #godblessamerica<3

Fireworks cracked across the Los Angeles skyline in bursts of red, green, and gold.

The balcony of Lucifer’s penthouse offered a perfect view, but he barely looked at the sky. His eyes were fixed on the divine little disaster sitting just inside the glass doors, curled up on his couch like a dream that forgot it had fallen.

You were barefoot, knees tucked beneath you in one of his dress shirts that hung loosely off your shoulder. Celestial, fragile, and too bloody gorgeous for words. He could still see the bruises from your fall—not all of them were on the surface. But your glow hadn’t gone out. It shimmered just beneath your skin, like the promise of a sunrise.

Lucifer leaned lazily against the balcony railing, a glass of whiskey in one hand, the chaos of the city stretching out beneath him. A mischievous smile played at the corners of his mouth.

“Darling,” he called smoothly, his voice rich—like sin wrapped in velvet, “do be a dear and come out here. I’m being terribly romantic and brooding, and I simply must have someone pretty to witness it.”

You blinked and sat up a little straighter, slow and soft as always. Then came the head tilt—the one that made him short-circuit every single time. It was your signature move. The one that sent kings and devils into freefall.

A beat passed. Then you stood, slow and graceful. Everything about you was quiet and gentle. You padded barefoot toward him, your eyes reflecting the light from the fireworks blooming above. You stepped onto the balcony, quiet as moonlight, and came to stand beside him. Lucifer took a slow sip of his drink.

He glanced at you sideways, watching your reaction to the fireworks for the first time.

“Took you long enough,” he said, smirking. “You nearly let me be dramatic alone. Tragic, really.”

You smiled faintly. “You… wait.” Your eyes never left the sky, still locked on the colors bursting above. You didn’t really understand why today was such a big deal. But you looked over at him.

“America… party?” you asked with your trademark head tilt.

Lucifer smiled. “Independence Day, love. Our celebration of freedom.”

You blinked, lips moving as you tried the unfamiliar word. “In-de-pend…?”

Lucifer chuckled, already leaning in. “Close. But try dance, like you’re asking me to sweep you across a ballroom.” He gestured with flair. “In-de-PEND-ance.”

You blinked again. “PEN…dance.”

“That’s it!” he declared, as if you’d just summoned magic. “Brilliant! Absolutely celestial.” He placed a hand to his heart in mock sincerity. “You’ve nearly outdone Shakespeare.”

You gave a tiny smile, cheeks warming. “I… try.”

Lucifer tilted his head now, mirroring yours. “That you do, darling. And you’re rather exceptional at it.” He grinned.

You turned toward him slowly, really looking at him now, the fireworks continuing to dance across both your faces.

“Say… again?” you asked softly.

He blinked. “The word?”

You nodded.

Lucifer leaned in a little closer, lowering his voice into that smooth velvet drawl. “Independence Day, my angel.”

You repeated, a little more confident now: “In-de…pend…dance…day.”

Lucifer smiled wide, more proud than he’d ever admit. “There we are. America’s never sounded better.”

“With… you. Better,” you whispered.

Your eyes flicked up to meet his when you said it, as if that little truth had been waiting quietly in your chest, aching to be spoken.

He froze for half a second—just a breath—and blinked. Then cleared his throat and looked away, pretending to fix the cufflinks on his jacket sleeve.

“Well,” he said lightly, “of course it is. You’ve got me.”

“Freedom… good?” you asked, your mind drifting back to an earlier conversation. You were still trying to understand what today really meant.

Lucifer grinned. “Well, it depends… if you're with Maze and me.”

He saw the corners of your mouth lift slightly. Then another firework burst—golden sparks raining down like stars. You gasped softly, eyes wide with wonder. You gripped the edge of the balcony, face tilted up, lips parted.

Lucifer watched your profile, completely transfixed. You weren’t just watching the fireworks—you were feeling them. Like they were a language you half-remembered from before the fall.

He didn’t even try to look away.

“Pretty,” you whispered. Then, after a long moment, “…Loud.”

Lucifer smiled, softer this time. “That sums up this nation quite nicely. But as it turns out… it also suits you.”

You blinked, confused. “Me?”

He leaned in just slightly. “Oh yes. Stunning. Impossible. Sometimes overwhelming. And loud… even in silence.”

You grinned. “You… sweet?”

Lucifer choked on a laugh. “Absolutely not. That’s slander, darling.”

You stepped closer, your shoulder brushing his. Another firework exploded above—this one red and gold. It reflected in your eyes like galaxies being reborn.

Lucifer looked down at you, though his gaze had barely left you all night. But this time… he really looked. And something inside him shifted.

“You know,” he said slowly, “I’ve seen stars burn. Cities fall. But nothing—and I mean nothing—has looked quite so radiant as you do right now.”

Your fingers slid over to his free hand resting on the railing. Slowly, gently, you intertwined your fingers with his.

“Safe,” you whispered, barely loud enough for anyone but him to hear.

Lucifer didn’t speak. Not right away.

But something ancient inside him softened.

He simply squeezed your hand back, eyes still on the sky as the colors danced across your faces.

And for once, he felt like this—this warmth, this stillness—might be the kind of chaos he didn’t want to control.

The kind he’d fall into… willingly.

[yesihaveaobsession]

tom ellis lucifer morningstar x female!fallenangel reader

Summary: On the Fourth of July, Lucifer watches a fallen angel learn about freedom and fireworks. In her quiet wonder, he finds a chaos worth falling into.

A/N- Happy Independence Day to those who do celebrate! Here is a cute little Fem! Fallen Angel Fourth of July fic for y'all, I hope y'all enjoy!! And be safe! :)) #godblessamerica<3

Fireworks cracked across the Los Angeles skyline in bursts of red, green, and gold.

The balcony of Lucifer’s penthouse offered a perfect view, but he barely looked at the sky. His eyes were fixed on the divine little disaster sitting just inside the glass doors, curled up on his couch like a dream that forgot it had fallen.

You were barefoot, knees tucked beneath you in one of his dress shirts that hung loosely off your shoulder. Celestial, fragile, and too bloody gorgeous for words. He could still see the bruises from your fall—not all of them were on the surface. But your glow hadn’t gone out. It shimmered just beneath your skin, like the promise of a sunrise.

Lucifer leaned lazily against the balcony railing, a glass of whiskey in one hand, the chaos of the city stretching out beneath him. A mischievous smile played at the corners of his mouth.

“Darling,” he called smoothly, his voice rich—like sin wrapped in velvet, “do be a dear and come out here. I’m being terribly romantic and brooding, and I simply must have someone pretty to witness it.”

You blinked and sat up a little straighter, slow and soft as always. Then came the head tilt—the one that made him short-circuit every single time. It was your signature move. The one that sent kings and devils into freefall.

A beat passed. Then you stood, slow and graceful. Everything about you was quiet and gentle. You padded barefoot toward him, your eyes reflecting the light from the fireworks blooming above. You stepped onto the balcony, quiet as moonlight, and came to stand beside him. Lucifer took a slow sip of his drink.

He glanced at you sideways, watching your reaction to the fireworks for the first time.

“Took you long enough,” he said, smirking. “You nearly let me be dramatic alone. Tragic, really.”

You smiled faintly. “You… wait.” Your eyes never left the sky, still locked on the colors bursting above. You didn’t really understand why today was such a big deal. But you looked over at him.

“America… party?” you asked with your trademark head tilt.

Lucifer smiled. “Independence Day, love. Our celebration of freedom.”

You blinked, lips moving as you tried the unfamiliar word. “In-de-pend…?”

Lucifer chuckled, already leaning in. “Close. But try dance, like you’re asking me to sweep you across a ballroom.” He gestured with flair. “In-de-PEND-ance.”

You blinked again. “PEN…dance.”

“That’s it!” he declared, as if you’d just summoned magic. “Brilliant! Absolutely celestial.” He placed a hand to his heart in mock sincerity. “You’ve nearly outdone Shakespeare.”

You gave a tiny smile, cheeks warming. “I… try.”

Lucifer tilted his head now, mirroring yours. “That you do, darling. And you’re rather exceptional at it.” He grinned.

You turned toward him slowly, really looking at him now, the fireworks continuing to dance across both your faces.

“Say… again?” you asked softly.

He blinked. “The word?”

You nodded.

Lucifer leaned in a little closer, lowering his voice into that smooth velvet drawl. “Independence Day, my angel.”

You repeated, a little more confident now: “In-de…pend…dance…day.”

Lucifer smiled wide, more proud than he’d ever admit. “There we are. America’s never sounded better.”

“With… you. Better,” you whispered.

Your eyes flicked up to meet his when you said it, as if that little truth had been waiting quietly in your chest, aching to be spoken.

He froze for half a second—just a breath—and blinked. Then cleared his throat and looked away, pretending to fix the cufflinks on his jacket sleeve.

“Well,” he said lightly, “of course it is. You’ve got me.”

“Freedom… good?” you asked, your mind drifting back to an earlier conversation. You were still trying to understand what today really meant.

Lucifer grinned. “Well, it depends… if you're with Maze and me.”

He saw the corners of your mouth lift slightly. Then another firework burst—golden sparks raining down like stars. You gasped softly, eyes wide with wonder. You gripped the edge of the balcony, face tilted up, lips parted.

Lucifer watched your profile, completely transfixed. You weren’t just watching the fireworks—you were feeling them. Like they were a language you half-remembered from before the fall.

He didn’t even try to look away.

“Pretty,” you whispered. Then, after a long moment, “…Loud.”

Lucifer smiled, softer this time. “That sums up this nation quite nicely. But as it turns out… it also suits you.”

You blinked, confused. “Me?”

He leaned in just slightly. “Oh yes. Stunning. Impossible. Sometimes overwhelming. And loud… even in silence.”

You grinned. “You… sweet?”

Lucifer choked on a laugh. “Absolutely not. That’s slander, darling.”

You stepped closer, your shoulder brushing his. Another firework exploded above—this one red and gold. It reflected in your eyes like galaxies being reborn.

Lucifer looked down at you, though his gaze had barely left you all night. But this time… he really looked. And something inside him shifted.

“You know,” he said slowly, “I’ve seen stars burn. Cities fall. But nothing—and I mean nothing—has looked quite so radiant as you do right now.”

Your fingers slid over to his free hand resting on the railing. Slowly, gently, you intertwined your fingers with his.

“Safe,” you whispered, barely loud enough for anyone but him to hear.

Lucifer didn’t speak. Not right away.

But something ancient inside him softened.

He simply squeezed your hand back, eyes still on the sky as the colors danced across your faces.

And for once, he felt like this—this warmth, this stillness—might be the kind of chaos he didn’t want to control.

The kind he’d fall into… willingly.

[yesihaveaobsession]

tom ellis lucifer morningstar (dc) x female!reader

Summary: A playful dart game in Lucifer’s penthouse turns intimate as he helps the reader, teasing her with his charm and turning their flirtation into something deeper under the warm glow of firelight.

A/N- Lucky for most of y'all I have quite a bit of Lucifer fics in my drafts that are ready to be put out. So be ready!!!

Lucifer’s tailored suit jacket lay discarded on the back of the couch in the penthouse. His sleeves were rolled up just enough to show the curve of his forearms as he cradled a glass of his finest whiskey, legs crossed and one arm resting along the back of the couch. The penthouse was dimly lit, the fire casting soft, golden shadows across the floor and décor. You had your own drink in hand—something fruity that he’d scoffed at earlier but still made for you anyway.

You squinted at the dartboard across the room and raised a dart.

Thunk. It embedded itself in the wood beside the board. Again.

Lucifer’s lips twitched as he sipped his drink. “Strike one.”

You shot him a glare and raised another dart.

Thunk. Lower wall this time.

He didn't even try to hide his grin. “Strike two.”

You threw the last dart, determination in your eyes.

Thunk. “Wall. Again,” he announced like a smug sportscaster, clapping once with mock enthusiasm. “Brava.”

You groaned and finished the last sip of your drink. “I don’t get it. I can focus. I’m good at things. I swear.”

Lucifer tilted his head as he wandered over, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. “Darling, as talented as you are with... well, everything else, perhaps you're simply not built for bar sports.”

No shit.

You turned around sharply, already suspicious. “Don’t even think about helping me. I told you, I got this.”

He chuckled, terribly amused, his eyes gleaming in the firelight. “Darling, you’ve absolutely not got this. You’ve hit everything but the actual target. Which is a metaphor, I believe, for our entire relationship.”

You paused and arched an eyebrow. “We don’t have a relationship.”

Lucifer gave a slow blink, then that damned smirk bloomed across his face as he took one step closer—then another—until there was barely space between you. “Exactly.”

Your breath caught for half a second, but you masked it with a scoff and turned back to the dartboard. “Still not helping.”

Lucifer set his glass down on the side table and took a step behind you anyway.

You felt him before you saw him—his presence like a shadow that heated instead of chilled. His cologne hit next: something rich, masculine, with notes of spice and something darker underneath. It was distracting as hell. Your heart was racing.

It was getting hot in here. Or was it the fire? Or your fruity drink?

“I already said—”

“I know, I know,” he interrupted smoothly, voice dipping into velvet. “But consider this an act of charity. Or temptation. Possibly both.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t move away. He was standing right behind you now, the heat of his body pressing into your back ever so slightly, one hand lightly grazing your waist, the other guiding your arm.

“Now,” he murmured near your ear, his breath warm against your neck. “Breathe. In through the nose, slowly…”

You exhaled shakily. “This feels illegal.”

“Oh, darling, if this is illegal, just imagine how good the punishment will be.” He chuckled when you gave a flustered huff. “Relax your grip. You’re holding the dart like it owes you money.”

“You do owe me money, for the record.”

“And you’ll never collect,” he whispered, and you could hear the smile in his voice. “Now… focus. Eyes on the target.”

His hands slid to your hips as he subtly corrected your stance.

His fingers gently adjusted your wrist—slow and deliberate. “And just… let go.”

You released the dart.

Thud. It stuck in the outer rim of the board.

Lucifer grinned beside your head. “Progress. Color me impressed.”

You stepped forward, out of his arms, trying to ignore the burn crawling up your neck. “I’d have gotten it eventually.”

He leaned back on his heels, retrieving his drink again. “Mmm. And I’d have waited all night. Not that I’d mind. Watching you concentrate is… delightful.”

You glared at him half-heartedly. “You’re a jackass.”

“And yet,” he said, lifting his glass in a toast, “a helpful jackass.”

You threw another dart. It landed in the board. Barely.

Lucifer’s eyebrows lifted. “Would you look at that? You do respond well to pressure.”

“Keep talking and I’ll aim for your head next.”

He looked genuinely intrigued. “Darling, that might just make me fall in love with you.”

You froze—only for a second. Then you laughed and shook your head. “Get me another drink, Morningstar.”

“As you wish,” he said with a wink, moving toward the bar with a little more swagger than necessary.

“But fair warning, love… darts aren’t the only thing I’m good at.”

Your cheeks flushed. You didn’t answer.

Because you already knew.

And he damn well knew you knew.

[yesihaveaobsession]

tom ellis lucifer morningstar (dc) x female!reader

Summary: A playful dart game in Lucifer’s penthouse turns intimate as he helps the reader, teasing her with his charm and turning their flirtation into something deeper under the warm glow of firelight.

A/N- Lucky for most of y'all I have quite a bit of Lucifer fics in my drafts that are ready to be put out. So be ready!!!

Lucifer’s tailored suit jacket lay discarded on the back of the couch in the penthouse. His sleeves were rolled up just enough to show the curve of his forearms as he cradled a glass of his finest whiskey, legs crossed and one arm resting along the back of the couch. The penthouse was dimly lit, the fire casting soft, golden shadows across the floor and décor. You had your own drink in hand—something fruity that he’d scoffed at earlier but still made for you anyway.

You squinted at the dartboard across the room and raised a dart.

Thunk. It embedded itself in the wood beside the board. Again.

Lucifer’s lips twitched as he sipped his drink. “Strike one.”

You shot him a glare and raised another dart.

Thunk. Lower wall this time.

He didn't even try to hide his grin. “Strike two.”

You threw the last dart, determination in your eyes.

Thunk. “Wall. Again,” he announced like a smug sportscaster, clapping once with mock enthusiasm. “Brava.”

You groaned and finished the last sip of your drink. “I don’t get it. I can focus. I’m good at things. I swear.”

Lucifer tilted his head as he wandered over, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. “Darling, as talented as you are with... well, everything else, perhaps you're simply not built for bar sports.”

No shit.

You turned around sharply, already suspicious. “Don’t even think about helping me. I told you, I got this.”

He chuckled, terribly amused, his eyes gleaming in the firelight. “Darling, you’ve absolutely not got this. You’ve hit everything but the actual target. Which is a metaphor, I believe, for our entire relationship.”

You paused and arched an eyebrow. “We don’t have a relationship.”

Lucifer gave a slow blink, then that damned smirk bloomed across his face as he took one step closer—then another—until there was barely space between you. “Exactly.”

Your breath caught for half a second, but you masked it with a scoff and turned back to the dartboard. “Still not helping.”

Lucifer set his glass down on the side table and took a step behind you anyway.

You felt him before you saw him—his presence like a shadow that heated instead of chilled. His cologne hit next: something rich, masculine, with notes of spice and something darker underneath. It was distracting as hell. Your heart was racing.

It was getting hot in here. Or was it the fire? Or your fruity drink?

“I already said—”

“I know, I know,” he interrupted smoothly, voice dipping into velvet. “But consider this an act of charity. Or temptation. Possibly both.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t move away. He was standing right behind you now, the heat of his body pressing into your back ever so slightly, one hand lightly grazing your waist, the other guiding your arm.

“Now,” he murmured near your ear, his breath warm against your neck. “Breathe. In through the nose, slowly…”

You exhaled shakily. “This feels illegal.”

“Oh, darling, if this is illegal, just imagine how good the punishment will be.” He chuckled when you gave a flustered huff. “Relax your grip. You’re holding the dart like it owes you money.”

“You do owe me money, for the record.”

“And you’ll never collect,” he whispered, and you could hear the smile in his voice. “Now… focus. Eyes on the target.”

His hands slid to your hips as he subtly corrected your stance.

His fingers gently adjusted your wrist—slow and deliberate. “And just… let go.”

You released the dart.

Thud. It stuck in the outer rim of the board.

Lucifer grinned beside your head. “Progress. Color me impressed.”

You stepped forward, out of his arms, trying to ignore the burn crawling up your neck. “I’d have gotten it eventually.”

He leaned back on his heels, retrieving his drink again. “Mmm. And I’d have waited all night. Not that I’d mind. Watching you concentrate is… delightful.”

You glared at him half-heartedly. “You’re a jackass.”

“And yet,” he said, lifting his glass in a toast, “a helpful jackass.”

You threw another dart. It landed in the board. Barely.

Lucifer’s eyebrows lifted. “Would you look at that? You do respond well to pressure.”

“Keep talking and I’ll aim for your head next.”

He looked genuinely intrigued. “Darling, that might just make me fall in love with you.”

You froze—only for a second. Then you laughed and shook your head. “Get me another drink, Morningstar.”

“As you wish,” he said with a wink, moving toward the bar with a little more swagger than necessary.

“But fair warning, love… darts aren’t the only thing I’m good at.”

Your cheeks flushed. You didn’t answer.

Because you already knew.

And he damn well knew you knew.

[yesihaveaobsession]

alastor (hazbin hotel) x female!reader

Summary: Alastor surprises the reader with a beautifully eerie picnic set in the bayou-themed half of his room, complete with glowing food, haunting jazz, and his signature theatrical charm. Though unnerving at times, his careful attention and rare vulnerability show just how much he likes her — even if he insists he’s not the romantic type.

A/N-I am back in my home state! So like I said before Alastor fic was on the way and here it is I hope y' 'all like it! I also am a Megan Moroney fan and "6 Months Later" is a ABSOULTE VIBE. Lucifer fic is in the works! :))

You hadn't expected him to invite you. But he did.

He didn’t really seem like the type to plan something as quaint and tender—like a picnic. And yet, here you were. Standing at the threshold of his half-actual room and half-bayou wonderland, staring into something that looked like it belonged in a twisted dreamscape, pulled straight out of a southern gothic painting.

The bayou part had murky water that shimmered just beyond the edge of a moss-covered platform. Cypress trees rose into curling shadows, and glowing fireflies bobbed lazily through the heavy air. There were vines, twisted roots, and the haunting hum of cicadas… and somewhere far off, the whistle of an old-timey jazz horn crackled through invisible speakers—probably coming from his radio.

Then there was him.

Standing in the middle of it all with a pristine checkered blanket laid across a large flat stone, with a waterfall falling behind him. Alastor beamed. He was dressed to the nines—bowtie perfectly centered, and that crooked grin glued to his face like it was etched into bone.

“Ah, there you are, darling!” he said in his usual charmingly demented lilt. “I was beginning to think you’d gotten eaten by a gator on the way in. Would’ve been a shame! They always get full before I can interrogate them.”

You just stared at the scene in front of you. Then blinked at him. “You… did all this?”

He gave an exaggerated bow. “Why, of course I did! Only the best for my guest of honor!”

Your heart couldn’t help but flutter. Or maybe it was just the buzz of the bugs overhead. “You didn’t have to go through all this trouble…” You rubbed the back of your neck. It was a nervous habit you tended to have—and he had always noticed.

“Nonsense!” His grin twitched. “Trouble is my favorite ingredient. Besides…” He stepped closer, offering his hand like a proper host. “You deserve a setting worthy of your beauty.”

Oh.

You blinked again. And he clearly noticed, because his grin deepened. With a flourish, he took your hand and guided you to sit beside him on the blanket. A strange woven basket sat at the center, filled with food that looked delicious—and just a little… off. The cornbread sparkled. The jam pulsed. The lemonade glowed a faint, suspicious green. You weren’t even sure if it was edible.

You picked up a teacup, inspecting it. “Should I be worried about this glowing?”

He leaned in, resting his chin on his hand with a devilish twinkle in his eye. “Only if it starts talking.”

You stared.

“Kidding!” His laughter crackled like old vinyl static.

You didn’t laugh. You still weren’t used to when he cracked an actual joke meant to be funny. For all his unnerving quirks, he was oddly attentive—fixing your plate just how you liked it, pouring your drink first, even offering you a perfectly folded napkin made of vintage linen.

He kept stealing glances at you, as if quietly checking to see if you were impressed, if you were enjoying yourself. He liked you—and by now, you could tell. You weren’t sure why someone like him would be interested in someone like you, but even if he didn’t say it out loud… this showed it.

When you complimented the scenery, he lit up.

“Really? Why, thank you! I modeled the moss off an old swamp I used to haunt—added a few extra will-o��-the-wisps for drama, of course.”

He paused for a moment, fiddling with the edge of his radio dial, his voice dipping lower—just a bit softer.

He continued on, telling you stories about his radio show, the people he had made deals with, and the ones he’d tortured. And… you couldn’t help but giggle. He gestured with his hands as he spoke. The static grew louder when he talked about the torture parts.

“I… I wasn’t sure what you’d think. I don’t exactly entertain like this.”

You raised a brow. “You don’t take people into your room?”

“I don’t take people into my world.” His smile thinned into something more sincere. More… shy. “But you… fascinate me.”

The static around him buzzed gently—not violently like it usually did. And for once, it wasn’t screaming madness. It was background music. Faint jazz. A soft trumpet crooning like a lullaby from the past.

“You’re not afraid of me,” he added, with a slight tilt of his head.

You shrugged, smiling gently. “Should I be?”

He paused.

“…Yes.” Then he chuckled, dark and velvety. “But I’m terribly glad you aren’t.”

You spent hours there, just talking. At one point, you swore something swam past under the water, and Alastor just grinned wider. “Ignore him. He’s shy.” That made you laugh out loud.

Eventually, you leaned back on the blanket and stared at the glowing canopy overhead.

Alastor lay beside you, one leg crossed over the other. “If I were the kind of man who believed in romance…” He turned his head slightly toward you. “…I’d say I’ve fallen headfirst into it.”

You just looked at him with wide eyes. “Al…”

He turned away with a sly smirk, red eyes glowing. “But fortunately, I’m not that kind of man.”

You laughed softly and nudged his shoulder—something he didn’t even brush off.

“Right. Of course not.”

Still, he reached over and gently placed a vintage red rose beside your hand. It bloomed unnaturally wide, the petals curling like smoke.

“Don’t press it,” he said, voice teasing.

You raised a brow.

“It hisses.”

[yesihaveaobsession]

tom ellis lucifer x dean winchester x female!huntress reader (sam winchester and maze mentioned)

Summary: A stunning huntress arrives in a twisted version of L.A. with Sam and Dean, only to catch the eye of Lucifer Morningstar. Flirtation, tension, and jealous sparks fly as the Devil turns up the charm—and Dean’s temper boils.

A/N- So, wanted to try something. Since a lot of y'all liked my Hazbin x Supernatural crossovers. I figured why not try a Lucifer x Supernatural crossover. Because Dean and Lucifer ARE GOD SO DAMN FINE, I promise Alastor fic will be out sometime next week because I'm gonna be out of state this weekend!

Let me know if y'all want a part 2!! :))

You had no idea how you ended up here. But here you were, in Los Angeles—though not the Los Angeles you'd been to before. Probably something to do with Gabriel.

Anyway, you walked into Lux, some high-end, popular nightclub that was apparently run by the Devil? No clue. You were followed by Sam and Dean. Your black jeans hugged in all the right places, your leather jacket open just enough to tease the tank top beneath. A silver blade was tucked at your thigh, and your glossed lips were pursed in focus. The moment you entered, heads turned.

Not just because Dean Winchester looked like a lumberjack who'd lost a bet with fashion—or because Sam looked like he was about to give a TED talk on ancient lore.

No.

It was you.

You, in a place of sleek dresses and perfect tailoring.

A dangerous beauty in a room full of cocktail-drinking sinners.

And behind the bar, Lucifer Morningstar took notice.

“Holy hell…” he murmured under his breath, whiskey glass halfway to his lips. “Now that… is a woman.”

Dean muttered beside you once he caught up, already annoyed. “Here we go… And the Devil’s British now?”

Lucifer crossed the room with effortless grace, that cocky, melting smirk already in place. His eyes locked on you like he was picking a sin from a personal menu.

“And what do we have here?” His gaze dragged up and down, unapologetic. “You’re not from around here, are you, love?”

You met his eyes, clearly unimpressed. “And you must be the Devil everyone warned me about.” You eyed him again—he was completely different from your Lucifer.

Lucifer’s grin deepened. “Guilty. And suddenly very blessed.”

Dean stepped forward, shoulders squaring. “Alright, Lucifer. Focus. We’re here about a rogue angel lighting up your city, not for your… panty-melting poetry.”

Lucifer turned his head slowly from you, like he’d just realized Dean existed.

“Oh, you must be Dean Winchester. Leather, stubble, control issues… yes, it all checks out.”

He looked back at you.

“I see why you’re traveling with them. Protective, are we?” Lucifer purred, then dropped his voice just for you. “Or is he just hoping you’ll get bored and fall for the tortured type?”

Dean snapped, “She’s here for the job.”

Lucifer gave you a once-over that could melt steel, practically undressing you. “And what a job it must be to keep her in line.” He sipped his drink and raised a brow.

Then, like it was scripted, Maze appeared. Lucifer’s… demon. She walked up in a tight black outfit, eyeing you like she was the predator and you were the prey. She circled you slowly, smirking.

“Damn. She’s hot.”

Lucifer chuckled proudly. “Isn’t she?”

Maze nodded. “You should sleep with her.”

Dean blinked. “Who the hell are you?”

“Maze,” she replied coolly, popping a random grape in her mouth. “Demon. Assassin. Lucifer’s backup plan. You?”

“Dean. Hunter. Pissed off,” he snapped. Sam placed a calming hand on his shoulder. Maze licked her lips, still staring at you.

“If he doesn’t sleep with you, I might.”

“I like to keep my blades sharper than my lovers. Good thing I brought two.” You smiled. Lucifer damn near moaned.

“Be still, my damned heart.”

Dean groaned, face tight.

“This is a nightmare. Why is everyone hitting on her?”

Sam cleared his throat, ever the voice of reason. “Because she looks like a Bond girl and fights like John Wick?”

Dean muttered, “Yeah… that’s kinda why we brought her.”

Lucifer leaned back on the bar, still grinning at you like you were made of sin and sugar. “Darling, I don’t know what angel you pissed off to end up with these two oafs, but I’m very glad you did. Stay. Let me pour you something… sinful.”

Before you could answer, Dean cut in again.

“We’re working.”

Lucifer winked.

“I’m offering her a drink, Dean. You offering her holy water and a motel room with one working lamp?”

You couldn’t help but smirk.

“Son of a bitch…” Dean muttered, reaching for his gun. And how, you might ask, did you even get into a nightclub with weapons? No idea. Maybe this very hot, flirty Lucifer knew you were coming?

“This is great. Can I watch when they fight over you?” Maze clapped her hands.

You leaned on the bar beside Lucifer and glanced back at Dean with a teasing smile.

“I mean… depends who throws the first punch.”

Lucifer was still grinning like the devil he was. “Why don’t we take this somewhere more… private? My penthouse has better lighting. Wouldn’t want that face of yours hidden in shadows, darling.” He sipped again.

You raised an eyebrow. Dean glared.

“She’s not going anywhere alone with you.”

Lucifer rolled his eyes, then smiled. “Relax, Winchester. You can come too—bring your little brother. Though I will be disappointed if you’re all this tightly wound the whole time.”

Without waiting for a response, he turned on his heels and started toward the elevator. You followed without hesitation, hips swaying, hand near your blade—because gorgeous didn’t mean reckless.

Sam gave Dean a look and followed, notebook already out. Dean hesitated. Then cursed under his breath and stalked after you.

The elevator opened to a view fit for a god. Panoramic windows bathed the space in moonlight and neon. Modern, expensive furniture. A piano near the bar. A well-stocked liquor cabinet Lucifer made a beeline for. Books. And even a second floor.

You walked in like you owned the place.

Lucifer, now behind the bar, looked up to see you admiring the room. Then:

Lucifer handed you a crystal tumbler. “Something strong. Smooth. Like me.”

You took it. “That’s debatable.”

Dean muttered, “Still can’t believe we’re in Satan’s bachelor pad…”

Lucifer swirled his drink and gave Dean a smug once-over. “And I can’t believe you’re still wearing the same flannel from 2009.”

You nearly choked on your drink. Sam tried not to laugh.

Dean growled. “Keep it up, Morningstar.”

Lucifer turned to you, smiling. “So. Huntress. What exactly do you hunt? Besides hearts, obviously.”

You sat on the arm of the couch, legs crossed, sipping like it was a casual Wednesday. “Demons. Vampires. Things you only dream about when you’re sweating through silk sheets.”

Lucifer exhaled, lips curling. “If you keep talking like that, I’m going to have to open a bottle of champagne and propose.”

He knew he was getting under Dean’s skin.

Dean stepped between you two. “Alright. That’s enough.”

Lucifer tilted his head. “Oh, Dean. I didn’t realize you were interested. But that explains the jaw clenching.”

“Shut up.”

Maze stepped in again—of course she did—tossing a blade between her fingers.

“Is it just me,” she said, “or is it getting really tense in here? Hot girl tension. My favorite.”

Lucifer smirked. “She’s divine, isn’t she?” He looked at you again.

Maze grinned. “I vote we keep her.”

You snorted, sipping your drink. “Pretty sure I’m not some lost puppy you get to adopt.”

Lucifer stepped closer—not touching, just hovering. His voice low and sinful.

“No, love. You’re the wolf. And God help anyone who thinks they’re your master.”

The room went still.

Your lips parted slightly, stunned. Wow. He was good. Dean was gonna have to step up his game.

“Oh…” was all you managed to say.

Dean’s jaw ticked. He was three seconds from smiting the so-called Devil and his demon.

Sam cleared his throat, desperate to shift the energy. “Okay, uh—Uriel. The rogue angel. He’s been in the area. Killing low-level demons. We think he’s trying to get your attention.”

Lucifer blinked, shrugged. “They always are. Angels can’t stand that I throw better parties.”

Dean snapped. Again. “One of those demons had a kid. Uriel snapped its neck in front of her. So maybe quit treating this like one of your damn cabana nights and help us.”

Lucifer’s expression dropped. His tone shifted—cold, sharp. He stepped up to Dean.

“Oh, I am helping, Dean. I brought you here, didn’t I? Into my home. Offered my help. And honestly? If you keep acting like a possessive ex-boyfriend every time I glance at her…” His gaze flicked to you. “…I might start thinking you’ve got some unresolved feelings.”

Dean opened his mouth—then shut it.

You stood up slowly, stepping between them.

“I’ll go with Lucifer. Just for a recon drive. Maybe he can get us a lead.”

Dean exploded. “No the hell you’re not!”

Lucifer grinned. “She wants to. Don’t be mad you’re not the one she’s choosing, Dean.”

You looked over your shoulder, eyes locking with Dean’s.

“You coming too, Winchester? Or are you just gonna stand there watching like a jealous ex while the Devil makes me laugh?”

Lucifer chuckled darkly.

Maze whispered to Sam, “Best. Day. Ever.”

[yesihaveaobsession]

tom ellis lucifer x dean winchester x female!huntress reader (sam winchester and maze mentioned)

Summary: A stunning huntress arrives in a twisted version of L.A. with Sam and Dean, only to catch the eye of Lucifer Morningstar. Flirtation, tension, and jealous sparks fly as the Devil turns up the charm—and Dean’s temper boils.

A/N- So, wanted to try something. Since a lot of y'all liked my Hazbin x Supernatural crossovers. I figured why not try a Lucifer x Supernatural crossover. Because Dean and Lucifer ARE GOD SO DAMN FINE, I promise Alastor fic will be out sometime next week because I'm gonna be out of state this weekend!

Let me know if y'all want a part 2!! :))

You had no idea how you ended up here. But here you were, in Los Angeles—though not the Los Angeles you'd been to before. Probably something to do with Gabriel.

Anyway, you walked into Lux, some high-end, popular nightclub that was apparently run by the Devil? No clue. You were followed by Sam and Dean. Your black jeans hugged in all the right places, your leather jacket open just enough to tease the tank top beneath. A silver blade was tucked at your thigh, and your glossed lips were pursed in focus. The moment you entered, heads turned.

Not just because Dean Winchester looked like a lumberjack who'd lost a bet with fashion—or because Sam looked like he was about to give a TED talk on ancient lore.

No.

It was you.

You, in a place of sleek dresses and perfect tailoring.

A dangerous beauty in a room full of cocktail-drinking sinners.

And behind the bar, Lucifer Morningstar took notice.

“Holy hell…” he murmured under his breath, whiskey glass halfway to his lips. “Now that… is a woman.”

Dean muttered beside you once he caught up, already annoyed. “Here we go… And the Devil’s British now?”

Lucifer crossed the room with effortless grace, that cocky, melting smirk already in place. His eyes locked on you like he was picking a sin from a personal menu.

“And what do we have here?” His gaze dragged up and down, unapologetic. “You’re not from around here, are you, love?”

You met his eyes, clearly unimpressed. “And you must be the Devil everyone warned me about.” You eyed him again—he was completely different from your Lucifer.

Lucifer’s grin deepened. “Guilty. And suddenly very blessed.”

Dean stepped forward, shoulders squaring. “Alright, Lucifer. Focus. We’re here about a rogue angel lighting up your city, not for your… panty-melting poetry.”

Lucifer turned his head slowly from you, like he’d just realized Dean existed.

“Oh, you must be Dean Winchester. Leather, stubble, control issues… yes, it all checks out.”

He looked back at you.

“I see why you’re traveling with them. Protective, are we?” Lucifer purred, then dropped his voice just for you. “Or is he just hoping you’ll get bored and fall for the tortured type?”

Dean snapped, “She’s here for the job.”

Lucifer gave you a once-over that could melt steel, practically undressing you. “And what a job it must be to keep her in line.” He sipped his drink and raised a brow.

Then, like it was scripted, Maze appeared. Lucifer’s… demon. She walked up in a tight black outfit, eyeing you like she was the predator and you were the prey. She circled you slowly, smirking.

“Damn. She’s hot.”

Lucifer chuckled proudly. “Isn’t she?”

Maze nodded. “You should sleep with her.”

Dean blinked. “Who the hell are you?”

“Maze,” she replied coolly, popping a random grape in her mouth. “Demon. Assassin. Lucifer’s backup plan. You?”

“Dean. Hunter. Pissed off,” he snapped. Sam placed a calming hand on his shoulder. Maze licked her lips, still staring at you.

“If he doesn’t sleep with you, I might.”

“I like to keep my blades sharper than my lovers. Good thing I brought two.” You smiled. Lucifer damn near moaned.

“Be still, my damned heart.”

Dean groaned, face tight.

“This is a nightmare. Why is everyone hitting on her?”

Sam cleared his throat, ever the voice of reason. “Because she looks like a Bond girl and fights like John Wick?”

Dean muttered, “Yeah… that’s kinda why we brought her.”

Lucifer leaned back on the bar, still grinning at you like you were made of sin and sugar. “Darling, I don’t know what angel you pissed off to end up with these two oafs, but I’m very glad you did. Stay. Let me pour you something… sinful.”

Before you could answer, Dean cut in again.

“We’re working.”

Lucifer winked.

“I’m offering her a drink, Dean. You offering her holy water and a motel room with one working lamp?”

You couldn’t help but smirk.

“Son of a bitch…” Dean muttered, reaching for his gun. And how, you might ask, did you even get into a nightclub with weapons? No idea. Maybe this very hot, flirty Lucifer knew you were coming?

“This is great. Can I watch when they fight over you?” Maze clapped her hands.

You leaned on the bar beside Lucifer and glanced back at Dean with a teasing smile.

“I mean… depends who throws the first punch.”

Lucifer was still grinning like the devil he was. “Why don’t we take this somewhere more… private? My penthouse has better lighting. Wouldn’t want that face of yours hidden in shadows, darling.” He sipped again.

You raised an eyebrow. Dean glared.

“She’s not going anywhere alone with you.”

Lucifer rolled his eyes, then smiled. “Relax, Winchester. You can come too—bring your little brother. Though I will be disappointed if you’re all this tightly wound the whole time.”

Without waiting for a response, he turned on his heels and started toward the elevator. You followed without hesitation, hips swaying, hand near your blade—because gorgeous didn’t mean reckless.

Sam gave Dean a look and followed, notebook already out. Dean hesitated. Then cursed under his breath and stalked after you.

The elevator opened to a view fit for a god. Panoramic windows bathed the space in moonlight and neon. Modern, expensive furniture. A piano near the bar. A well-stocked liquor cabinet Lucifer made a beeline for. Books. And even a second floor.

You walked in like you owned the place.

Lucifer, now behind the bar, looked up to see you admiring the room. Then:

Lucifer handed you a crystal tumbler. “Something strong. Smooth. Like me.”

You took it. “That’s debatable.”

Dean muttered, “Still can’t believe we’re in Satan’s bachelor pad…”

Lucifer swirled his drink and gave Dean a smug once-over. “And I can’t believe you’re still wearing the same flannel from 2009.”

You nearly choked on your drink. Sam tried not to laugh.

Dean growled. “Keep it up, Morningstar.”

Lucifer turned to you, smiling. “So. Huntress. What exactly do you hunt? Besides hearts, obviously.”

You sat on the arm of the couch, legs crossed, sipping like it was a casual Wednesday. “Demons. Vampires. Things you only dream about when you’re sweating through silk sheets.”

Lucifer exhaled, lips curling. “If you keep talking like that, I’m going to have to open a bottle of champagne and propose.”

He knew he was getting under Dean’s skin.

Dean stepped between you two. “Alright. That’s enough.”

Lucifer tilted his head. “Oh, Dean. I didn’t realize you were interested. But that explains the jaw clenching.”

“Shut up.”

Maze stepped in again—of course she did—tossing a blade between her fingers.

“Is it just me,” she said, “or is it getting really tense in here? Hot girl tension. My favorite.”

Lucifer smirked. “She’s divine, isn’t she?” He looked at you again.

Maze grinned. “I vote we keep her.”

You snorted, sipping your drink. “Pretty sure I’m not some lost puppy you get to adopt.”

Lucifer stepped closer—not touching, just hovering. His voice low and sinful.

“No, love. You’re the wolf. And God help anyone who thinks they’re your master.”

The room went still.

Your lips parted slightly, stunned. Wow. He was good. Dean was gonna have to step up his game.

“Oh…” was all you managed to say.

Dean’s jaw ticked. He was three seconds from smiting the so-called Devil and his demon.

Sam cleared his throat, desperate to shift the energy. “Okay, uh—Uriel. The rogue angel. He’s been in the area. Killing low-level demons. We think he’s trying to get your attention.”

Lucifer blinked, shrugged. “They always are. Angels can’t stand that I throw better parties.”

Dean snapped. Again. “One of those demons had a kid. Uriel snapped its neck in front of her. So maybe quit treating this like one of your damn cabana nights and help us.”

Lucifer’s expression dropped. His tone shifted—cold, sharp. He stepped up to Dean.

“Oh, I am helping, Dean. I brought you here, didn’t I? Into my home. Offered my help. And honestly? If you keep acting like a possessive ex-boyfriend every time I glance at her…” His gaze flicked to you. “…I might start thinking you’ve got some unresolved feelings.”

Dean opened his mouth—then shut it.

You stood up slowly, stepping between them.

“I’ll go with Lucifer. Just for a recon drive. Maybe he can get us a lead.”

Dean exploded. “No the hell you’re not!”

Lucifer grinned. “She wants to. Don’t be mad you’re not the one she’s choosing, Dean.”

You looked over your shoulder, eyes locking with Dean’s.

“You coming too, Winchester? Or are you just gonna stand there watching like a jealous ex while the Devil makes me laugh?”

Lucifer chuckled darkly.

Maze whispered to Sam, “Best. Day. Ever.”

[yesihaveaobsession]

tom ellis lucifer morningstar x female!witchreader

Summary: A good witch in L.A. is visited by Lucifer Morningstar, who arrives with wine and wicked intentions. She resists his charm, but the tension between them is anything but innocent.

A/N- Y'ALL he is down bad in this my bad..😭 ALSO really cute Alastor fic may or may not be in the work. STAY TUNEDDD

*WARINGS: CONTAINS MENTION OF SEDUCTION*

You were a good witch living in Los Angeles. You owned a small shop — the front room sold dried herbs, perfumes, candles, and other harmless little things. But the back room? That was off-limits to almost everyone. It held jars labeled with names no ordinary person had ever heard of. Things that pulsed with power, history, and a little danger.

Today, you were in that back room, organizing bottles by moon phase, scent, and strength.

The front door creaked open.

Then footsteps.

And then, in strolled Lucifer Morningstar, smug as always, holding a bottle of vintage red in one hand and mischief twinkling in his eyes.

He didn’t hesitate. He stepped right into the back room.

“Darling,” he said, voice smooth as silk and twice as dangerous, “thought I’d drop by. Brought you a little something.” He held up the wine like it was a peace offering… or bait. Definitely bait.

Ever since you'd first run into him — at Lux, of course — he had been relentless. Sure, it was his territory, but you were just there for a quiet drink. He’d landed right next to you at the bar and tried charming his way into your pants. But you didn’t fall for it. That only made him want you more.

A few private drinks at his penthouse. More flirting. More attempts to tempt you into his bed. Eventually, he found out what you were — not just a witch, but a good witch. That only made him more intrigued.

Rare, he’d called you. “Practically extinct,” he’d said with a grin.

And now here he was again.

You raised a brow without turning. “Lucifer. To what do I owe the pleasure?” Already dreading the answer.

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe the fact that you’ve been plaguing my dreams for the past two weeks,” he said casually, already wandering through your workspace like he owned it. He picked up a glowing green crystal, turning it in his hand — still holding the wine in the other. “You’ve really outdone yourself, love. What does this one do? Kill someone? Turn them into a frog?”

“Put it down, Lucifer.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He grinned, setting it down just carefully enough. “Bit bossy, aren’t you? I like that.”

You tried not to smirk as he strolled behind you, his fingers brushing along spellbooks, jars, and other things he definitely shouldn’t be touching. He was a curious devil in a forbidden candy shop. Or maybe a bull in a china shop. Both, really.

Then his eyes lingered as you bent slightly to reach a lower shelf, the slit in your long dress parting just enough to reveal the length of your thigh.

Lucifer let out a low whistle. “Darling… you didn’t have to dress up just for me, but I’m honored. Truly. Consider me thoroughly bewitched.”

You straightened and looked over your shoulder. “This isn’t for you.”

He stepped closer, lowering his voice until it was practically a purr. That damn British accent. “No? Then why is it that every time you bend over, I want to sin all over again?”

You sighed and brushed past him, bumping his arm on purpose — only for him to block your path. He leaned in, or rather, bent down slightly to your level, his lips curling into a wicked smile.

“Just say the word, love. This table,” he tapped the wood beside him, his ring clinking against the surface, “would make an excellent spot. Or your bed. Or mine. I’m terribly flexible when it comes to location.”

You just gave him a pointed look.

“Do you ever not flirt?”

“Only when I’m asleep… and even then, I’ve been known to charm a dream or two. Especially lately.” He leaned back, letting his eyes roam without shame, head tilted like he was admiring art. “You’ve been the star of a rather filthy recurring fantasy. Involving herbs. A silencing spell. And—oh, there it goes.”

With a flick of his hand, he’d knocked over a jar. It shattered at your feet.

You sighed again and crouched down to clean it up. You didn’t even need to look up to know Lucifer was staring — shameless, fascinated, completely and utterly enthralled.

“Yep,” he said, absolutely unapologetic, “definitely going to be thinking about that later tonight.”

You flinched slightly and muttered something under your breath that made all the candles flicker.

“Feisty. Dangerous. Smart. And drop dead bloody gorgeous.” He sighed dramatically, shaking his head. One hand was still on the table, the other tucked into the pocket of his dress pants, feet crossed like he had all the time in the world. “Honestly, it’s becoming quite the problem.”

You stood slowly, your eyes locking with his.

“You’re not getting what you want, Lucifer.”

“Oh, I know.” He smirked and stepped closer. “But watching you say no in that dress? That’s the best kind of torture. And who knows…” His fingers brushed lightly along your arm. “Maybe next time, I’ll wear something tight and unholy. See if that tips the scale.”

You rolled your eyes, trying not to smile. “Out.”

“Right,” he said, already turning toward the door and lifting the wine bottle. “But I’m leaving this. Just in case you change your mind… or get lonely… or want someone to bend you over a table.”

You threw a sachet of dried nettle at his head.

He caught it with a grin like a devil who’d just tasted heaven.

“I’ll be dreaming of you, witch.”

And with that, he vanished into the night — leaving behind only the scent of wine, sin, and unspoken temptation.

You were both in trouble.

[yesihaveaobsession]

tom ellis lucifer morningstar x female!witchreader

Summary: A good witch in L.A. is visited by Lucifer Morningstar, who arrives with wine and wicked intentions. She resists his charm, but the tension between them is anything but innocent.

A/N- Y'ALL he is down bad in this my bad..😭 ALSO really cute Alastor fic may or may not be in the work. STAY TUNEDDD

*WARINGS: CONTAINS MENTION OF SEDUCTION*

You were a good witch living in Los Angeles. You owned a small shop — the front room sold dried herbs, perfumes, candles, and other harmless little things. But the back room? That was off-limits to almost everyone. It held jars labeled with names no ordinary person had ever heard of. Things that pulsed with power, history, and a little danger.

Today, you were in that back room, organizing bottles by moon phase, scent, and strength.

The front door creaked open.

Then footsteps.

And then, in strolled Lucifer Morningstar, smug as always, holding a bottle of vintage red in one hand and mischief twinkling in his eyes.

He didn’t hesitate. He stepped right into the back room.

“Darling,” he said, voice smooth as silk and twice as dangerous, “thought I’d drop by. Brought you a little something.” He held up the wine like it was a peace offering… or bait. Definitely bait.

Ever since you'd first run into him — at Lux, of course — he had been relentless. Sure, it was his territory, but you were just there for a quiet drink. He’d landed right next to you at the bar and tried charming his way into your pants. But you didn’t fall for it. That only made him want you more.

A few private drinks at his penthouse. More flirting. More attempts to tempt you into his bed. Eventually, he found out what you were — not just a witch, but a good witch. That only made him more intrigued.

Rare, he’d called you. “Practically extinct,” he’d said with a grin.

And now here he was again.

You raised a brow without turning. “Lucifer. To what do I owe the pleasure?” Already dreading the answer.

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe the fact that you’ve been plaguing my dreams for the past two weeks,” he said casually, already wandering through your workspace like he owned it. He picked up a glowing green crystal, turning it in his hand — still holding the wine in the other. “You’ve really outdone yourself, love. What does this one do? Kill someone? Turn them into a frog?”

“Put it down, Lucifer.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He grinned, setting it down just carefully enough. “Bit bossy, aren’t you? I like that.”

You tried not to smirk as he strolled behind you, his fingers brushing along spellbooks, jars, and other things he definitely shouldn’t be touching. He was a curious devil in a forbidden candy shop. Or maybe a bull in a china shop. Both, really.

Then his eyes lingered as you bent slightly to reach a lower shelf, the slit in your long dress parting just enough to reveal the length of your thigh.

Lucifer let out a low whistle. “Darling… you didn’t have to dress up just for me, but I’m honored. Truly. Consider me thoroughly bewitched.”

You straightened and looked over your shoulder. “This isn’t for you.”

He stepped closer, lowering his voice until it was practically a purr. That damn British accent. “No? Then why is it that every time you bend over, I want to sin all over again?”

You sighed and brushed past him, bumping his arm on purpose — only for him to block your path. He leaned in, or rather, bent down slightly to your level, his lips curling into a wicked smile.

“Just say the word, love. This table,” he tapped the wood beside him, his ring clinking against the surface, “would make an excellent spot. Or your bed. Or mine. I’m terribly flexible when it comes to location.”

You just gave him a pointed look.

“Do you ever not flirt?”

“Only when I’m asleep… and even then, I’ve been known to charm a dream or two. Especially lately.” He leaned back, letting his eyes roam without shame, head tilted like he was admiring art. “You’ve been the star of a rather filthy recurring fantasy. Involving herbs. A silencing spell. And—oh, there it goes.”

With a flick of his hand, he’d knocked over a jar. It shattered at your feet.

You sighed again and crouched down to clean it up. You didn’t even need to look up to know Lucifer was staring — shameless, fascinated, completely and utterly enthralled.

“Yep,” he said, absolutely unapologetic, “definitely going to be thinking about that later tonight.”

You flinched slightly and muttered something under your breath that made all the candles flicker.

“Feisty. Dangerous. Smart. And drop dead bloody gorgeous.” He sighed dramatically, shaking his head. One hand was still on the table, the other tucked into the pocket of his dress pants, feet crossed like he had all the time in the world. “Honestly, it’s becoming quite the problem.”

You stood slowly, your eyes locking with his.

“You’re not getting what you want, Lucifer.”

“Oh, I know.” He smirked and stepped closer. “But watching you say no in that dress? That’s the best kind of torture. And who knows…” His fingers brushed lightly along your arm. “Maybe next time, I’ll wear something tight and unholy. See if that tips the scale.”

You rolled your eyes, trying not to smile. “Out.”

“Right,” he said, already turning toward the door and lifting the wine bottle. “But I’m leaving this. Just in case you change your mind… or get lonely… or want someone to bend you over a table.”

You threw a sachet of dried nettle at his head.

He caught it with a grin like a devil who’d just tasted heaven.

“I’ll be dreaming of you, witch.”

And with that, he vanished into the night — leaving behind only the scent of wine, sin, and unspoken temptation.

You were both in trouble.

[yesihaveaobsession]

Happy Father's Day to all the dads out there!!