This Is For Your Prompt Game- Word Count: 800

this is for your prompt game- word count: 800

human!alastor whos starts to feel a bit guilty when he sees his darling worry about him after hearing about the various murders near his studio. maybe some cuddling after alastor comes home especially late, and reader freaks out?

tyy!!

Nothing on This Earth

tags: human! alastor x human! fem! reader, established relationship, alastor and reader are married, anxious reader, fluff, very mild angst note: This was such a cute request to fulfill, I had a really fun time with it :) I hope you enjoy, anon <3

"And in some rather frightening news, the police have revealed the recent discovery of yet another body, this one found partially buried just outside city limits, mere miles in fact, from this very radio station that I'm broadcasting live to you from now. Presently, the authorities have yet to reveal the identity of the poor soul, but he is believed to be yet another victim of our infamous NOLA killer."

Alastor hummed a popular tune as he made his way across the walkway that led from the drive to the house that he and his wife shared.

From outside, he could hear the oh-so familiar static of the radio as his late night replacement droned on and on endlessly between the evenings pre-selected songs.

With a marked lack of haste or impatience, Alastor listened on vaguely to the words his coworker spoke, scarcely paying them any mind as his long legs carried him casually along the stone path and toward the steps of the house.

Instinctively, his hand reached into his pocket as he grew closer to his destination, long fingers seeking the familiar chill of cool metal until they finally found what they were feeling for, allowing for him to properly grasp his keys between them.

Humming the same pleasant tune as before, the radio host smiled to himself as he slowly ascended the three wooden steps that led creakily up to the deck, upon which the front door could be clearly seen.

Quietly, his shoes tapped against the old wood as he made his way closer, the keys in his pocket jingling familiarly as he moved to pull them out.

Still clearly in no rush, Alastor moved casually as he raised the now slightly warmed metal of his house key to its empty socket.

Much to his surprise though, the brass device had only just grazed the mechanism containing the deadbolt lock when the door swung inward quickly, revealing quite the alarming sight on the other side.

There you stood, his darling wife, all wrapped up in that slightly sheer white robe of yours that his mother had gifted you for your wedding, arms crossed and expression fixed firmly into a frown.

If he hadn't known any better, perhaps Alastor may have even believed you angry at him, your jaw clenched and your eyebrows furrowed just so.

But, of course, as your ever so observant husband, he did know better.

He could see the anxiety hidden behind that veil of vexation as clear as day, made obvious by the constant shifting of your gaze and the way you nibbled at your lip.

Wordlessly, your love reached forward, pulling your trapped flesh from between your worrying teeth, his ring finger tilting your chin upward as he did so.

"Why hello there, my doe."

He all but purred as he stepped swiftly inside, his ankle moving to kick the door closed behind him.

"How very kind of you to wait at the entrance for me. Although, I do have to wonder," He began, leaning down toward you so that his breath fanned across your lips, "What a lovely, delicate creature such as yourself is doing up so late."

He teased, pressing a quick kiss to your mouth before pulling away and turning around to shrug off and hang his jacket.

"I was worried about you."

At those words, Alastor halted all movement immediately before his brow quirked and he spun on his heel, grin wide.

"Worried about me?" He asked incredulously, both of his hands finding yours before offering them a squeeze of reassurance. "Whatever for, my dear?"

You swallowed thickly, your words becoming caught in your throat as if the sheer weight of them were too much to manage.

"There's a killer on the loose, Al." You said fearfully, your returned grip on his hands tightening as you spoke.

"So when you're out so late like this, I can't help but think-" You paused there, as if unable to finish that thought for fear of it coming true.

Regardless, it seemed that Alastor understood your worries plenty.

He squeezed your hands once more.

"Oh chère," He all but crooned, "You're very sweet to worry, but I promise you that I am in no danger." As he said this, you felt him start to pull you in closer, until finally, you were chest to chest.

You sighed wearily, leaning into your love's touch almost instinctively in spite of your concerns. "But how can you be so sure, Al? There's no telling when or where-"

"My dear," Your husband interrupted gently as he began to sway the two of you rhythmically in time with the jazz that was now flowing through the speakers of your radio, "I can assure you that as long as I have my wife to come home to..." He paused to tuck a few stray hairs behind your ear, his gaze upon you filled with an almost overwhelming adoration as he did so,

"There is nothing on this earth that could keep me away from her."

these boots WEREN’T made for walking | m. izuku

cw: father! izu, reader and izu have two kids.

-reader and a pair of uncomfortable boots she begged for. if you all have seen friends, it’s based on that one time monica bought those expensive ass boots she could barely walk in lmao

“you’re not going to wear them,” izuku stated plainly, mouth forming a thin line as you held up a flashy pair of high heeled boots, much too tall for what you usually wear.

“am too. they can go with that dress i just got,” you smiled proudly, turning to scan the different sizes to accommodate for your own feet.

“that dress, yes, and what else?”

you paused your hand on one of the boxes, pursing your lips to think for a second but you were drawing serious blanks. you knew better than to look his way since he was probably raising those thick eyebrows of his, giving you that damned knowing look that always made you cave.

“what do you know about fashion anyway, deku?,” you huffed, squealing in victory when you saw they indeed had your size in stock.

it wasn’t that money was an issue, even if the boots were a whopping four hundred and fifty dollars, plus tax, but he knew you well. every time you got fancy shoes you wore them about two times max before chucking them somewhere in the depths of the closet to never again be seen with as a matching set. even you not wearing them wasn’t his biggest concern, you always chose shoes that hurt your feet, gave you horrible blisters and aches. it was a sad sight to say the least when he caught you limping around in his peripheral.

“i know that by the end of the night in those, you’re gonna be pouting for me to give you a piggy back ride because your feet hurt.”

“nope, you’re wrong,” you were busying yourself with pulling one of the boots onto your foot, zipping it up the calf and gaping in awe at the way it sucked you in like a glove, “these are extremely comfortable. i love them…god if i could marry a shoe.”

izu held up his hands in surrender, not that he was going to fight long on the topic of giving you whatever your heart desired. he aimed to please, liked watching you smile.

he had to give you your props, almost every day you had managed a way to worm your new boots into your outfits. you were stubborn, sometimes enough to even best kacchan, and you were determined to prove you could milk the money’s worth out of these boots. izu chose to pick his battles, even when he came home from a tiring day of hero work just to see you vacuuming the living room in heels. it was cute, really, how hard you tried to make your point, and he let it play out without rebuttal. truth of the matter is, you were starting to hit your peak, heels burning and ankles aching from the amount of times you had twisted them from tripping when your husband wasn’t around. you’d hate for the bastard to be right, he was always so smug when he was. so you put on brave faces and strutted around in your prize, until you were out of eye sight so you could wince in peace.

there were bruises forming on the knuckles of your toes, cramps taunting your soles every time you flexed your feet too graciously. it was getting about that time for these death traps to hit the back of your closet. you just hated the idea of giving izuku the satisfaction of his win, that and you didn’t want to put his hard earned money to waste. it was a constant nag in the back of your brain. you knew he’d never tell you no (not really anyway) and he had spoiled you heavily with the fruits of his labor from the moment the currency started pouring in. it was why you couldn’t help but ask for things, and he wanted you to have everything, even if he teased you about it being a ridiculous purchase. but anxiety was still a bitch. you had to show these shoes love, it was like- in your mind- being extra grateful for his generosity.

your final straw was a long walk in the park. foolishly you had slipped on the horrid boots, they went well with your attire. izu warned against it, told you it sounded like a dumb idea when you were going to have to chase your three year old down, but you only shut him up with a kiss, giving him a twirl to show off your outfit. park days were rare, but when the family could get a chance to go out, izu pushed for it. he hated extended periods of time away from you and the two little ones, aika and a beautiful baby boy, nix. he wished he never had to leave or at least that he could shrink his perfect pack and put them in his pocket for safe keeping.

it was nice outside, the coos of spring rolling in, flowers blooming and spreading their plumes of pollen into the air. you were taking a well needed rest on a bench, shaded by the bright green rooftop of a gazebo. your feet were screaming from the confines of your shoes, but you bit back complaints as you pushed the two seater stroller back and forth. your son was sleeping soundly, tiny fists clutching onto his teether for dear life. just a few feet ahead on the playground, your tall tree of a husband was pushing at your daughters back, sending her way higher than you would have liked on the swing set. the little one seemed to love it though, screaming in delight as perfect green curls flowed in the wind. she enjoyed his strength and his supernatural abilities, it only meant getting to be spun around or pushed high into the sky in a rickety swing set, a height many three year olds would probably have a fit at. though maybe it was just her love and admiration for her papa, she knew even at a young age, he’d never let her fall. nothing was scary when izuku was around.

perceptive as ever, izu cast you a look as if he could feel you staring. he greeted you with a dimpled grin and a wave to which you giggled. he was such a dork and it always amazed you how easily that switch could flip when he was in the midst of battle.

when aika grew tired of all the playground had to offer and was clipped into her side of the stroller, already dozing off and quiet, you and izu marked it time to head home. except, the long way home seemed like a hike through hell now that your feet were throbbing and swollen, still, you stood from the bench your thighs were glued to, outwardly whining. you stumbled slightly, catching ahold of your husband’s bicep with a huff.

“love, just take off the boots already.” his voice was stern, guiding you to sit back down, kneeling before you like a knight off duty.

you pouted, “i’m fine, ‘zu, let’s just go-“

“y/n. now.” he patted his thigh for your heel to be kicked up on, using his ‘father voice’ no less.

you did as told with each foot, watching as he careful undid the boots, sliding them off and tossing them into the stroller pouch. you slumped in relief, cool air from outside feeling so nice on your clammy skin. he sucked his teeth in disappointment at the sight of your battle scars, shaking his head at your stubbornness.

“i can’t walk home barefoot, babe.”

he gave a slight turn, offering his back to you, “don’t be dense. i’ll carry you home. hop on.”

it was probably a sight to see to others that the number one hero was walking the length of the sidewalk with a double stroller to his front and his wife clinging to his back like a feral koala. you had you face nuzzled in his neck, taking in the honeyed pine scent of his shampoo, legs wrapped snugly around his waist. he wasn’t even struggling, or breaking a sweat for that matter, just walking as if he was carrying nothing more than a backpack. another marvel of his strength.

“you know,” he started, voice vibrating through you, “i was only giving you a hard time about the shoes. i didn’t actually expect you to wear them so much.”

you absentmindedly toyed with the small chain around his neck, it seemed almost dainty on him, but it was so beautiful with the way your named was carved in cursive on the base.

“i didn’t want them to go to waste…you paid so much for them.” you didn’t mean to sound so dejected, but it was the truth, “i wanted you to know i actually do appreciate all you do.”

he chuckled softly, “silly girl. i know you do. just the way you should know i love gifting you things. i can’t think of a better use of my money.”

“still. it was an awful lot for a pair of boots.”

“baby. if i could, i’d buy you the whole milky way wrapped in a silk bow, even if it meant you would only look at it once. your happiness is the only repayment i need.”

your ears heated from his words, unable to respond. you chose to tighten your arms around him. so he continued to speak.

“gifts, money, hell- i’d give you every organ i have in me. nothing i do is transactional. you’re worth every penny.”

“you’re such a sap.” you choke out, cursing your hormones for the tears brimming your eyes.

“by association. i think that makes you a sap too, yes?”

“no. no just you, broccoli top. just you.”

you were totally a sap when it came to izuku midoriya.

fruit bats: @neon-gothicc @bakubunny @bookcluberror @kunigamisgirl @dizazter-dragoon @jazzafayesworld @cherriluvs35 @dreamcastgirl99 @pastelbakugou @ladybirdk @i-literally-cant-with-this @darkstarlight82 @maddietries

heyy i was wondering if you could do like Lucifer x reader getting married if ,you want to ofc🫶

btw i love your work so muchh, thank you!!🫶(also english is not my first language so i hope i didn't write anything wrong)

Absolutely I Do

Lucifer Morningstar x Reader

a little insight to your wedding with the king

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

• What would be a tamer version of a bridezilla? Not quite lashing out at everyone and their mother over the tiniest details but blowing a fuse when white roses arrive and he specifically asked for white gardenias?

• That would be Lucifer

• Asmodeus is his best man and the other Sins are his groomsmen, they’ll handle the flower debacle and any other matter that needs saving

• Good natured Charlie was given, arguably, the easiest task of holding onto the rings! She’s more than capable of planning the entire event on her own (and she asked to… twice) but Lucifer wanted her to enjoy this wedding as he wouldn’t be having another

• It’s part of why he wants this to go perfectly!

• He never thought he’d find another love after Lilith. He didn’t even realize that while you were delicately filling in the crater she’d left, he was falling more and more in love with you

• The other part, his pride and perfectionism aside, is that while it may be his second wedding, it’s your first. In his eyes you deserve only the best and he’ll be damned all over again if he doesn’t deliver

• You told your fiancé (FUCK he loved that word coming out of your mouth, almost as much as he was going to like husband!) to at least try to not go overboard. To which you received a “Me? Overboard? Darling, I would never! Simple and elegant, that’s what the headlines will say!”

• The many, many, many vision boards said otherwise. However you already knew damn well “simple and elegant” translated to grandeur and extravagant– and that’s exactly what it was. To Lucifer’s credit, it wasn’t gaudy or blinding. It really was a gorgeous spectacle

• Per his request it’s an all white event, a stark contrast to the overall location. The guest list is massive. After all, Lucifer’s still a king and certain people would be offended if they missed an occasion like this. Everyone goes all out. Bodies pour into chairs, everyone dripping head to toe in white garments and glamorous jewels

• Lucifer preened and primped, checking the mirror a couple hundred times and asking whoever was in the room if he looked ok. Anything less than “outstanding” had him groaning as he turned back to the mirror

• The wedding suddenly seems like a terrible idea. Not because he has cold feet (he’s rather sweaty, actually) but because the moment he sees you he just wants to steal you away

• You are positively and wholly breathtaking. The stars are jealous over how you outshine them! He can’t do anything but stare in amazement as you walk down the aisle

• Does he, Lucifer Morningstar, vow to protect, love, cherish and serve you for all eternity? Undoubtedly. He adds a few his own too like spoil you rotten, compliment you hourly, never ever never let you feel like you’re alone— all things he’s already done but wanted to make it “official”

• “It’s been an honor to be your confidant and friend… but I’m dying to do that and more as your husband.”

• Then do you take him to have and to hold, for better or worse, richer or poorer?

• “I do.” You answer proudly, squeezing his hands ever so slightly

• Forgetting present company, forgetting he’s a king and supposed to act dignified, Lucifer doesn’t wait to get permission to kiss you. He jumps slightly, knowing you’ll catch him instantly. Hugging your neck he crashes his lips onto yours

• You giggle against him, returning the kiss briefly before setting him down. (Hell knows he’d get carried away and forget much more if you didn’t)

• “I do believe you’re my husband now, Luci.”

• The entire wedding may as well have been a surprise party the way his eyes widened, as if it only just set in what the ordeal was for

• “Oh my golly, I’m your husband. I’m your husband! Hey everybody, I'm their husband!”

~

╰(*´︶`*)╯♡ don’t apologize, you did great friend! thank you so mochi and i hope you enjoy

𝖋𝖔𝖗𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖗 𝖎𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖙𝖜𝖎𝖓𝖊𝖉 「𝔩𝔲𝔠𝔦𝔣𝔢𝔯」 ೀ⋆｡˚

content. f!reader. discussions of separation/divorce, friends to lovers, (name) is a fallen angel, sexual harassment, insecurities, discussions of mental health, spoilers for hazbin hotel season finale, implied/referenced not-safe for work. not proofread. 3.3k+ words.

author's note. i'm not sure if i'll be making a valentine's day post, but i haven't updated in a while, and i wanted to post something. so here's another hazbin hotel oneshot that's been in my drafts for a while! (sorry to all my bsd readers, i will be posting content soon!) i hope you guys enjoy ٩(^ᗜ^ )و ´-

would you like to see more? join the taglist or comment under this post!

synopsis. two fallen ones, cut from the same cloth, destinies forever intertwined by the choices you made as young seraphim.

OR someone comes in to try and ruin your relationship with lucifer, and he isn't happy about it.

You remembered the sensation of an eternal inferno, the mark of damnation that scorched your fingertips, submerging your divine being within a cluster of flames. Exiled from the heavens—a fate worse than death to most became an accepted element of your newfound reality. You never belonged perched atop clouds, even with the virtue nestled in the recesses of your heart. A part of you feared the unknown as you descended through novas and clouds, but it felt like a pressure had lifted from your being as those imposing gates shrunk behind you.

As the first of a cluster of falling stars, your impact landed you on the steaming ground of a new, hellish landscape, your mind scattered from the force of the fall, limbs trembling with their aching joints. And that was when you saw him, a brand-new man who held out his hand, smile desperate yet reassuring. The Morning Star himself, brought upon the same fate, still shaken from the tragedy of his descent—it had been much more personal for him.

“It’ll be okay, (Name),” his familiar voice reassured, but it was impossible not to hear the waver in his tone as your hands intertwined. “It’ll all be okay.”

And with a single touch, traversing hand-in-hand through this foreign land, you knew that someday, he would be right.

But that happened many millennia ago, a tale for storybooks rather than a memory that should’ve constantly been on a loop in your mind, held onto during the dead of lonely, bitter nights. Despite your long-standing friendship, the both of you held very separate lives—him with his family, you with your industry. You worked in tandem in relation to the public and aristocratic duties but otherwise barely spoke past the occasional smile and wave. And no, you couldn’t help the desolation that had sprouted inside your heart, the muscle aching as you observed his radiant smile from across ballrooms, the king exchanging affectionate glances at his wife while coddling his sweet daughter. But you were happy for him all the same. He deserved to be surrounded by those he loved, deserved to be happy after years of heartbreak, even if you weren’t in the picture.

But you knew that you could depend on each other, even if you hadn’t spoken in months. It was an unspoken connection between you, a rule unbroken. Which was the reason you knew his midnight call one evening had been serious. His voice was flooded with anguish, sputtering out incomprehensible words as his breath caught with every beat. You dropped everything, the paperwork and meeting planning, flying over with speed so fast that the denizens of Hell whispered for days about the shooting star that had flown across the sky that evening. 

In your journey, there was one persistent question that kept bothering you—why wasn’t his wife the one to comfort him? It wasn’t that you minded, not at all, but the entire situation struck you as odd. However, your answer became clear as you cracked open the doors to his bed chambers; the room was frozen and still as if left abandoned. However, the knocked-over furniture and smashed artifacts only made it look like it was robbed, which you highly doubted. And there in the center of the chaos was the Morning Star himself—no, Lucifer. Simply Lucifer. His body crumpled to the ground, painful hiccups leaving his lips. You slipped inside with ease and were about to grab his attention, and then you spotted it, the large lettering of a familiar type of document—a divorce agreement.

You were aware that the relationship between Lucifer and Lilith wasn’t perfect, not by any means. When they had fallen in love, there wasn’t a guideline for navigating relationships and marriage. They had to play it entirely by ear, leading to rushed decisions and a shaky foundation. You had always believed that they were each other’s perfect half, but it was only because their punishment and subsequent banishment had tied them together and forced them to suffer the same fate. At least, that was their belief for a couple of millennia. It didn’t mean that the split that was bound to happen didn’t hurt.

His cries had been hard to hear, throaty and painful, his body trembling as he mourned on the floor. It took a culmination of your mental and physical strength to unravel him, forcing him away from those papers and into an embrace, slowly steadying his breath with yours as he clung to you as if you would leave if he let go. That night set the standard for weeks of a miserable routine, with the former king reduced to sobs and silence. It was unbearable, especially as he pulled away from those who cared for him—his fellow sins, his friends, and especially his daughter. But you continued to hold on, not leaving even with his harsh utterances and occasional outbursts. You wouldn’t let him be alone, couldn’t let him be alone, moving into the broken family’s manor to care for him full-time.

And he would always be thankful for that.

His mental health was climbing uptick for years, fluctuating back and forth until he had stabilized, at least in comparison to his state before. He became fantastic at masking his depression, brushing it underneath the rug as he delved into his own creations, pushing many of his relationships even further away as he stopped leaving home. You were the one to bring him food and clean the estate—his staff had drifted to other careers over the past few years. You were the one assuring that he wasn’t left hunched over a bench in the worst posture possible, toiling away with his latest obsession, no matter the cuteness of the ducks.

In his more conscious moments, you would listen as he ranted about his issues, even though you both were aware they were a product of his self-isolation. But in those instants, whispering quietly as if the heavens still held onto your every word, hiding from its light as if the touch of it would scorch your skin, an intimacy blossomed from the depths of your former friendship. It had remained idle for centuries, underlying the foundation of every interaction and word, leaving fleeting touches and shared laughter in your blissful youths for stern support and brief softness in your demonic adulthoods—neither of you ever noticed that you saw the other through heart-shaped lenses. Two fallen ones, cut from the same cloth, destinies forever intertwined by the choices you made as young seraphim.

But that had been the norm for thousands of years.

And without knowing, you had fallen into a relationship stage humans had archaically dubbed as “courting,” traveling outside the estate for the chance to spend time with one another, exchanging personalized gifts whenever the opportunity arose, swapping words of encouragement and affection. It was only after you had kissed him on the cheek one night that you both realized your feelings, and it only spiraled on from there. There were scars from his past love—undoubtedly, you had nurtured them with care—but even despite those, you worked to establish a healthy, balanced relationship as you navigated this strange stage in your lives.

However, there was someone who had not been quite so fond of this new development. You had attended meetings with the Heaven Embassy for many years as a favor to Lucifer, his absence becoming common after his separation from Lilith, but you could still remember locking eyes with the first man as you entered the room, dropping the chicken drum in his hands as his mouth widen agape.

“Hot damn.”

His flirtatious and oftentimes self-centered advances didn’t fly past your head like you wished they would. It seemed despite having thousands of years under his belt, he was unable to learn any kind of manners, but he had been the original sexist prick. And for his status as a divine man, he fucked around a lot. You didn’t doubt that was due to his own insecurities about both of his wives preferring someone else’s dick over his.

Once you and Lucifer had started dating, you happened to make the mistake of slipping that information to Adam in the hopes that he would back off, but it only seemed to provide him a challenge as his flirtations increased tenfold. From then on, your meetings no longer consisted of the same old information surrounding the exterminations; rather, they were him pointing out the many sexual accolades that he had roped under his belt and the way that apparently made him better than Lucifer—his favorite line was always that “that snake must have a little snake.”

Your disdain was obvious, repeating over and over for him to shut his mouth, but he would only smirk, taking your response as a sign that he had struck a nerve and that it was an opportunity to dig deeper. You decided to take over all the meetings with the embassy, keeping Lucifer away from the lecherous banter of the man, no matter the discomfort that formed in your gut from his unabashed perverseness and the predatory stares at your body.

“Come onnnn, babe,” Adam whined, in the middle of biting the meat off a chicken bone.

You shot him a look. “I’m not your babe, Adam.”

“Babe.” If you were able to reach over and strangle him, you would’ve. That was probably the reason the coward used a hologram instead of coming here himself. “A guy like that couldn’t possibly please you the way I could.”

You massaged your nose bridge, pointedly ignoring the flicker of his eyes from your face to your chest, unable to maintain stable eye contact. “Can we just get on with the meeting?”

“You know I’m right, but I’ll let you off the hook for now.”

You groaned, slamming your head onto the table.

From years onward, his nerve only increased, but he had never shown his bloodlust to you before until the exorcist army descended from the heavens to wreak chaos and death upon the doorstep of Lucifer’s only child, Charlie. You and the ever-so-optimistic princess of Hell developed quite a soft spot for one another, which wasn’t difficult since you had already been considered family in centuries past. The title of your romantic relationship with her father initially came with questions and a couple of awkward moments, but it wouldn’t stop either of you from growing a deeper friendship and understanding, walking through the process together. And it definitely didn’t stop you from defending the girl you had seen for years as a pseudo-daughter, along with her noble ambitions.

“Charlie!” you yelled, knocking Adam away from her as he attempted to strangle her. Charlie sputtered, holding her throat with a pained cough, and you raised a steady hand to her back, helping her rise to her feet. You gave her a once-over, relieved to find that she had no substantial wounds besides a couple of cuts and bruises.

You sighed, cupping her rosy cheeks. “Thank goodness you’re alright. Sorry for being so late. Your father will be here any moment.”

Her formerly desolate expression quickly changed into a beaming smile, eyes glimmering with revitalized determination. “Good! We need all the help we can get.”

However, the moment was cut short by the overexaggerated breaths of a particular man, Adam wobbling to his feet as he cradled his bruised ribs, which you didn’t doubt had been cracked in the impact. It was hard not to smile as he struggled to stand, a wave of retribution twitching through your fingertips.

“You bitch,” he groaned between shallow gasps, though his voice drifted into a humorous lilt. “You know, I’m all for feisty women, but this shit’s a bit extreme, don’tcha think, babe?”

“I am not your babe, Adam.”

You cringed at the moan that left his lips, knowing it was not from the pain of his bruises. “God damn, I love it when you say my name.” He chuckled. “It’d be better if you screamed it.”

“You couldn’t have been that good if both your wives left you for someone else,” you muttered, swallowing your bodily urge to vomit as you rubbed the burgeoning headache coursing through your temples.

His expression drained of any warmth or humor, only leaving behind the rotted, sinful corpse of a man that he pretended not to be. “What the fuck did you say to me, bitch?”

“Hmmm,” you hummed, rolling your eyes. “Did I strike a nerve there?”

His mouth contorted into a snarl. “You know, the only reason that snake keeps your ass around is because he needs a couple of assets,” he barked, curving his hands to gesture toward your curves. “To distract him!”

“Hey! Don’t talk about him—”

He cut you off, his imposing figure towering over you. “You’re only a convenience. A pretty face and a hole to fuck.”

You gasped, but he didn’t let you speak, a smirk curling up on his disgusting face. “You don’t mean anything to him, hun,” he sneered, his voice sickeningly sweet as he grabbed your chin, craning your neck at a muscle-aching angle to stare into your eyes. “You had a chance at heaven, slut. A chance to be with me. And you fuckin’ blew it—!”

He didn’t have a chance to finish his sentence, a bone-crunching punch tunneling into his face, his body cast off the hotel, which rocked under the aftershock, before it started to crumble like a deck of cards. With no time to waste, you and Charlie haphazardly jumped from shrapnel piece to shrapnel piece, able to land on the ground with barely a tumble as it collapsed into your foundation. The moment would’ve been devastating if your focus hadn’t been pinpointed elsewhere, the screams of a dying man drawing everyone to the impact pit.

“You have a lot of fuckin’ nerve,” a low voice scowled, sweltering steam blocking everyone’s vision away from the pair until it evaporated into the air, and that was when you spotted him. His voice was barely recognizable. The duplicated tones and whispers surrounding each word made him unidentifiable. But you knew who it was; those familiar sets of wings and the eyes of his tailcoat were clues enough. You hadn’t seen him take this form in decades, centuries even—he had no use for it, and to go to such an extreme was unlike him. He was shaking more than ever before; his fists balled up Adam’s collar as he pinned him to the ground.

“Intruding on my fuckin’ realm. Hurting my daughter.” And with each offense, another blow was added to the first man’s face, which looked more like roadkill than a former human with each malefaction. “Harassing and insulting my future wife!”

“Don’t you mean your little whore?” Adam managed to utter, that cocky tone still persistent. 

But that was a terrible mistake.

Lucifer did not respond to his comment, not at all. Instead, he paused, finding himself unprepared for the sheer audacity of the man underneath him, a man only clinging to life through recesses of holy power and spite. To the unsuspecting bystander, it would seem the king had calmed himself down, but instead, an inferno blazed between his fingertips, his form threatening to tear with the amount of heavenly light that he balanced on his palms. The ire of his many eyes looked upon Adam, and they saw to it that his judgment day had come early.

“Die.”

“Dad!”

Luck seemed to have Adam’s back as Charlie intervened, one of the few people who could ever draw her father out of such an irate warpath. However, it was only after a moment of contemplation from Lucifer, whose eyes stared at Adam, his face unreadable as his fingers twitched before he cracked a wicked smirk.

“How’s mercy feel, bitch?”

The next moments were a blur, though those eyes had turned towards you instead, not with the anger they had towards Adam, but of sheer contemplation—not that you paid attention to them, watching Adam’s death unfold in an ironically anti-climatic sort of way. You would’ve felt bad if your mind didn’t remedy the guilt in your gut with memories of your several encounters, most of which were not PG-13. The rest of the staff and residents gathered their bearings, joining to work on rebuilding the hotel, but you did not have the strength to. Instead, you took a moment for yourself, thoughts toiling through your head as they often did, not understanding the icky, nauseous feeling pooling at the bottom of your stomach.

You flinched at the brush of a hand that rested on your shoulder, only to find that it had been Lucifer, his brow furrowed in that same contemplative expression. And much like those times alone in the estate decades prior, a patient silence persisted as he sat next to you, gauging each touch as he pulled you closer, allowing your limp body to lean into his.

“You know none of what that asshole said is true, right?”

Is that what you had been so concerned about? You couldn’t tell. Your thoughts surrounding your relationship, especially in the context of his former love, had always been indecipherable, even to yourself. His question brought a small beam of clarity into the shadowed pits of your darkest thoughts, but it wasn’t the time to talk about it. Not now, at least.

“Yeah, I know.” Your voice was more shaken than you wanted it to come out, but he understood the underlying message. He could tell it wasn’t the truth, not entirely, and that the roots of your insecurities weren’t something to be remedied through a singular conversation. But it was a start. He intertwined your fingers, caressing the bare area of your ring finger.

“I wish you would’ve told me,” he spoke, his voice soft. “I would never have let you go to those meetings.”

You stayed staring out into the distance. “It wasn’t that big of a deal.”

However, he believed differently, tilting your chin as he cupped your face, much more loving compared to the hands that had grabbed you prior. And his eyes, ones that had been filled with hatred, now glinted in sharp concern. “But it is a big deal. That’s sexual harassment.”

“You were going through so much,” you replied. “It was just one additional thing I didn’t want you to deal with. Another burden on your back.”

“(Name),” he said, voice stern.

The gruffness of his uncompromising tone drew your eyes to your hands. “Any insult to you is an insult to me. Always has been, always will be. People don’t get to talk to you like that. It doesn’t matter what shit I’m going through. That doesn’t mean you get to be thrown under the bus.” He cracked a smile. “And anyone who even thinks of treating you less than the perfection you are deserves to be roasted alive. You’re not a burden. You’re priceless.”

“You’re really into those cannibalism metaphors recently,” you quipped, a bit of your reprieve and humor returning back. He laughed, his heart falling into ease, though he recognized the nod towards his disdain for a certain radio demon, his expression contorting in disgust.

“I’m not gonna eat him! Think of how gross that thing would taste. Just awful, bleh—!”

You cut him off with a kiss, making his rosy cheeks redden more. “Thanks, Lu.”

You tried to stand. His arm braced underneath your back, a hand brushing across the sensitive skin of your waist as he hovered above, his lips locked onto yours. You sighed into his mouth as his fingers mapped every beauty mark of your face, only for him to split, panting. His eyes shone with recognizable desperation, but the smirk on his lips told you he was prepped to tease, brushing the stray baby hairs out of your face that had been ruffled in the fray.

“If someone ever bothers you like that again, you tell me. Got it?”

You only sighed. “Lucifer, I can handle my—”

He pressed a kiss to your knuckles, mouth upturned in a cheeky grin at the way it cut you off. “It’s not smart to fight without your shield, now, is it?’

You relented, unable to withhold your bashful grin. “Of course.”

A silence persisted.

“Your future wife, hm?”

“…shit.”

ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ: @little-miss-chaoss

© ɢᴜᴀᴄᴍᴏʟᴇʀᴏʟʟ 2024 — ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ ᴏʀ ʀᴇᴘᴏꜱᴛ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ꜰᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ʀᴇᴀꜱᴏɴ. ʜᴏᴡᴇᴠᴇʀ, ʀᴇʙʟᴏɢꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ʙᴏᴛʜ ᴡᴇʟᴄᴏᴍᴇᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ᴇɴᴄᴏᴜʀᴀɢᴇᴅ

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ Letter ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

Characters: Seijoh 4, Y/N, Oikawa’s Fangirls

Synopsis: After spending the entire night trying to make the perfect confession letter you get to the end of the day. In your anxious state you find unlikely help.

Warnings: Confessions

Words: 1353

February 14th. Today. The thought of what you’re going to do makes you cringe. You had spent the whole night trying to write a confession letter. After much editing and rewriting you finally settled on one. You placed it in a carefully picked out envelope and sealed it with your new wax.

You didn't know what to expect from the object of your affections. You feared the worst of course, I mean you’ve barely had three conversations with the man. Despite that though he listened intently each time. He made it at least seem like he cared. Today you were going to find out just how much.

Sluggishly making it through your first classes, letter weighing heavily in your bag. You resisted the temptation to reach down and fiddle with the edges. You didn’t want to give a damaged confession letter when you spent so much time trying to perfect it. This day was going to take so long. Your anxiety weighed on you through the day, your bag feeling heavier and heavier with each minute. Your friends of course noticed and asked if you were okay. You told them of your plan and giggles went around the table.

They weren’t making fun of you. They just thought it was adorable. They were trying to be supportive but you really just wanted the day to be done. Your eyes were growing tired of seeing similar versions of the same chocolates, bears, and flowers. The confession you planned dulled in comparison and you grew more worried it wasn’t enough or right to get your feelings across. One of your friends reassured you that the confession was perfect because it would be from you.

It made you smile how they tried to cheer you up. As the final bell of the day rang you quickly packed your stuff up. You made your way to the gym before stopping. This was supposed to be the easy part, just have to give it to him. Unfortunately you were already stopped. You turn to see a group of Oikawa’s fangirl.

“Are you here to confess?”

“Yeah! To who?” They didn’t seem mean which surprised you. You would’ve though that they would be very mean towards you possibly thinking that you were trying to confess to Oikawa.

“Matsukawa.” You admitted with a cough as you looked away, cheeks heating up. The girls let out an aww.

“Okay! Since we can see you’re nervous we can help. We’ve gone through this plenty of times. Come sit with us during practice so we can help.” The lead girl smiled and took your arm to lead you to the bleachers. Once you all settled into your seats you showed them your letter.

The lead girl, Haru, looked the letter over a calm smile on her face. “This is adorable. I think he’s going to really like it.”

Because they were so caught up helping you they didn’t notice Oikawa come in. Confused, he looked up to see them surrounding one girl. He was a little concerned but when he looked a bit closer he saw a letter in your hand and smiled on everyone’s faces. He smiled mischievously and made his way over to Iwaizumi. “Seems like someone’s getting

confession letter.”

Iwaizumi sighed not wanting to deal with his antics. “No one cares that you’re getting another confession letter Shittykawa.” Oikawa pointed to where his fangirls were sitting closely inspecting a letter.

“I’ve never seen them act like this. It’s most likely not for me.” Little did he know someone was already looking at you. Much to the dismay of Makki.

“Are you going to look at them all practice?” He knew about Matsukawa’s little crush. I mean it was pretty easy to tell: the smiles, the glances, his very red face when he did get to talk to you. Now Matsukawa wasn’t generally a jealous guy but seeing you with a confession letter did something.

The entire practice he thought about who on the team it might be for. He settled on Oikawa. I mean, you were sitting with his fangirls. He didn’t know why they were being so sweet to you though.

After the girls were finished giving you tips on how to confess you all watched the game. They went back to their usual and cheering for Oikawa. They gave you reassuring smiled and thumbs up often though. You started to feel less nervous about what was going to happen in 15 minutes.

You smiled as you watched them all play to their heart's content. It made you happy seeing them happy while they were playing. That seems silly but seeing people really enjoy what they’re doing is the best thing. 13 minutes.

The closer it got the more you looked at Mattsun. You saw him joke around with Makki, saw how he teased Oikawa. Which caused you to laugh as you heard the joke. You muffled it by placing a hand over your mouth though. 10 minutes.

Mattsun looked at you the closer it got to the end of practice too. He cracked more jokes than usual. Hoping you would find him funny. When he saw you laugh he hoped it was because of him and not something Oikawa had somehow done. Makki noticed and patted him on the back. “Simp.” Mattsun rolled his eyes and pushed him a little bit. 9 minutes.

As the minutes counted down the girls returned their attention towards you. “We can come with you if you want. Emotional support and all. Make sure you’re actually able to give it to him.” You smiled. They were being so nice. It was a pleasant surprise when you arrived earlier and they greeted you. You were very thankful for them. 7 minutes.

“I’m still a little nervous but having you guys will help. Thank you.” They nodded and smiled. One girl pulled tape out of her bag and helped close the letter. Another helped you decorate it to keep your mind off of confessing.

“It’s a very sweet confession letter. You’ve got this.” 3 minutes.

Once practice was finally over the boys headed to the locker room to take their showers and change. Mattsun felt more nervous as he was finishing. What if it really was for Oikawa. Makki noticed his nerves and gave him a little smile. “Don’t think too much about it.” He tried. He took a breath through his nose and out his mouth. It helped a little bit.

The girls walked with you to the entrance of the gym and kept you company until they saw him walk out. They turned you around and gave you a gentle push towards him. Your face heated up and you took in a sharp breath. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. You looked at them again to see they were all smiling and giving you a thumbs up. Haru mouthed ‘You got this!’

They disappeared around the corner. You made your way up to Matsukawa. “Hi Matsukawa…can I speak to you for a minute alone?” His face heated up and he felt dazed. Were you trying to confess to him? Surely not? He agreed and you gently held onto his sleeve and pulled him off to an empty corner.

You tried to smile and gave him your letter. “This is for you.” You looked away and scratched your head. Mattsun stared gaping at the letter. It was really for him. He smiled and opened it appreciating the drawing over the surface.

You couldn’t look at him while he read it and were worried. Because you weren’t looking at him though you didn’t see how much he was smiling and the blush covering his face. When he finished he tapped you on the shoulder. “Y/N. Can you look at me?”

You hesitated but eventually met his eyes. He was smiling at you like you hung the stars into the sky. “Can I kiss you?” You were taken aback but nodded with a similar smile on your own face. He leaned in and cupped your face. He placed a gentle kiss on your lips.

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed!!! If you liked this you can find my other works here! Happy Valentine’s Day!!!!

Likes, Reblogs, and Comments are always appreciated

lucifer morningstar x fem reader (with the side of alastor) ⋆ ｡ﾟ ☁︎ [ brandy glass. ] 1k words. — lucifer takes you to a fancy bar, only for a certain gentlemen to send you a complimentary drink. lucifer takes it surprisingly well … or so you thought. ft. jealous lucifer, signature ‘v’ on lucifer’s lips, alastor making eyes at you.

just wanted to write a little something of our boys vying for your attention. alastor’s attempts can be seen as both platonic or romantic! pls credit me if you use these gifs <3

requests. mlist. < contains my other gifs and works!

“It’s a gorgeous night, isn’t it?”

Lucifer propped his elbow on the bar, his cheek rested on the back of his palm as his eyelids dropped to half mast. A large smile greeted you and you nodded in response.

You absentmindedly brushed down your red dress, held up by two spaghetti strings on both shoulders that were barely visible. You sipped the last of your drink.

“It’s a beautiful night, Lu.”

Lucifer had taken you to a high class bar on the other side of the pentagram and away from the hotel for a bit. He’d been wanting to take you somewhere special for a while now and you knew you shouldn’t have been impressed by the fact that he knew that doing anything with you within the perimeters of the hotel would have caused an outburst. But tonight wasn’t about that.

A modern gold chandelier glistened as its hanging gold cylinders swayed to the wind’s command. The bar had almost stunned you with the pristine glow that traveled like a bullet train all across the counter.

Lucifer opened his mouth to speak, but jumped at the buzzing sound of his phone vibrating. “Oh, sorry, Charlie texted, I’m sorry beautiful—”

“Lucifer,” you gave a composed chuckle. “You’re allowed to respond to texts. What happened to ‘a casual night out’?”

Lucifer’s gaze softened, shoulders sinking as he gave you a warm smile. “It’s hard to be casual around you, you know that?”

You shook your head as you returned his smile. “Go text your daughter.”

As with many fine dining and bar establishments, there was the occasional clatter of utensils every so often but it was drowned out by the idle chatting of the other couples in the bar. Many of the women dressed in something eye-catching like sequins. The dress Lucifer had gifted you to wear tonight was made of silk, and had its own way of making your cleavage both modest and revealing with the way the fabric made many crescent shaped folds just above your sternum.

“Ma’am, for you.”

“Oh, I didn’t order another—”

“It’s from one of the other gentlemen across the bar,” the bartender interjected, though still managed a polite tone as he continued to hold the drink towards you.

“Which one?”

He looked over at a man with a glowing red aura and a toothy grin.

One look at that pinstripe overcoat was all it took for your lips to curl into a sheepish smile.

He seemed to mirror you, sealing his lips together to make a less intimidating smile, but that was just your personal guess, even if the efforts proved to be rather futile in your opinion. But it didn’t matter as Alastor looked his dapper best even if nothing much had changed about his appearance, and judging from his excellent posture and smug side glances at your date, he knew this, too.

You looked over at Lucifer, but he was hunched over with his phone under the sparkling white bar, still texting Charlie.

Alastor nodded to you, crossing one of his legs over the other. He picked up his brandy glass and leaned it in your direction, as if to cheer to you from a distance.

You picked up your own as well, your smile sliding higher in your cheeks before he put his own glass to his lips.

He cocked his head to the side as his eyes zipped to the back of the bar and back at you.

Your shoulders tensed as both your elbows were now on the bar, with one of your hands sliding around the base of your nape.

“I hope that was on my tab,” Lucifer said in a lowered voice as he leaned his shoulder towards you, nearly making you jump out of your seat.

You chuckled nervously. “It’s … it’s not mine.”

Lucifer frowned as he straightened his posture. “Whose is it?”

Your eyes widened for a split second before you muffled your sigh with your palm, elbow still firmly planted on the gleaming counter. You swirled your drink in idle motions. “Some gentleman from the other side of the bar.”

Lucifer’s chin shot up from the crowd and you swore you could almost hear beeping as he scanned the room for anomalies. His pivoting gaze came to an abrupt halt a few seats away from one corner of the square-shaped bar.

“Alastor?” Lucifer deadpanned with a voice deeper than it had been before. He raised a brow at you and it took you a moment to take a mental deep breath at the fact that … there had been a lot of things going on at once.

There was something in Lucifer’s eyes you could tell had been used to handling the fire that was often ignited within them. You could almost see it tonight. Almost. You saw his adam’s apple bob as he swallowed, and his hand found its way to his empty glass.

“Yes,” you confessed softly.

“Oh, honey,” Lucifer cooed, head tilting as his stone demeanor deflated. “May I?”

His hand reached for your glass. You were barely touching it to begin with so when you pulled away by instinct, he swiped it away and turned towards Alastor.

He scowled as his glare stiffened on Alastor’s own. The radio demon’s signature grin returned at Lucifer’s attention and only stretched crooked and sinister as Lucifer took the drink into his throat, gulp by slow gulp.

He slammed the brandy glass down, licking his lips as he turned back to you, ever the gentle, silly man he was. It had almost been like he hadn’t just chained a man to a wall with his stare alone.

“Tell him I said thanks,” Lucifer sterned.

You glanced back at Alastor, who just shut his eyes and gave you a languid shake of his head.

“Well, this bar just got too crowded,” Lucifer beamed, his voice returning to its usual cheery cadence. He intertwined his fingers together and gave them a good stretch, then hopped off his seat and bowed before you to offer his hand. “I know a better place for us to … indulge on this beautiful night.

“Shall we?”

You took his hand and in one swift motion his hand sat snugly on your waist, almost like both you and the dress had made a lucifer’s-hand shaped hole for him to fill.

As you left the bar with Lucifer, you pretended not to notice that he turned back to Alastor one last time. You also pretended not to notice the ‘V’ he made with his fingers to his lips, his forked tongue slipping through the gap.