#tomellisluciferxreader

tomellis!lucifer (dc) x female!fallenangelreader

Summary: Lucifer discovers the fallen angel he once loved (you) is in Los Angeles, reigniting a love he thought was lost forever.

A/N- I really enjoyed how this turned out. So I really hope this reaches the right audience and hope y'all enjoy reading it just as much as I loved writing it!

Lucifer Morningstar had been in love once.

Truly, disastrously, in love.

Back in the Silver City, before rebellion and rings of fire and millennia of resentment, there had been you.

A fallen angel now, but once—you had been everything Heaven pretended not to want. Brilliant. Gentle. Kind in a way that made the stars seem warmer when you smiled. And bloody hell—the sort of beauty that didn’t need wings to announce itself.

Lucifer, though, had been reduced to a lovesick idiot around you.

He’d trip over his words. He’d show up early just to pretend he wasn’t waiting. You’d steal glances across marble halls, share smiles during celestial councils, fingers brushing accidentally on purpose. He’d make jokes just to hear you laugh. And you’d pretend not to notice how his gaze softened whenever you spoke.

And you liked him too. That wasn’t a secret.

Everyone else knew it. Even Michael, one of Lucifer’s brothers, had smirked a few times about it. Which meant it was definitely obvious.

Then Lucifer fell.

One moment he was screaming defiance, the next he was burning through the sky, and Heaven slammed shut behind him like a locked door.

He never saw you again.

You never saw him again.

Los Angeles. Present day.

Lucifer was lounging at the piano in his penthouse, a glass resting on top of the keys, fingers pressing random notes, trying—but failing—to drown out memories that never seemed to stay buried.

Maze had been gone all afternoon, which was suspicious in itself.

The elevator dinged.

Mazikeen stepped out, boots heavy, leather creaking, and a wicked little smirk already playing on her lips. She twirled a knife lazily between her fingers, eyes bright with mischief.

Lucifer didn’t look up from the piano but said, “Unless you’ve brought me good news, bad news, or a particularly violent distraction, I’m not in the mood.”

Maze leaned against the bar. “I found the Juliet to your Romeo.”

Lucifer froze.

Slowly, he turned, eyebrows arching. “I don’t recall asking you to quote Shakespeare, darling. Also, Romeo was an idiot.”

Maze snorted, still flipping the knife around. “Yeah? Still died for love.”

That got his attention.

“What exactly are you implying?” he asked carefully, centuries of practiced indifference cracking just a little.

Maze grinned wider. “They remember you.”

Lucifer was about to pick up his glass, but it slipped from his hands and shattered. He stared down at the shards, then back at Maze. “That’s not funny.”

“I’m not joking,” Maze said, flipping the knife and catching it by the handle with ease. “They fell too. Long after you. Different reasons. Different messes. But still here.”

His breath caught, something painfully unfamiliar tightening in his chest.

“No,” he said, voice low. “They wouldn’t—they can’t—”

“They live in Los Angeles,” Maze continued, entirely too pleased with herself. “You’re welcome.”

Lucifer laughed, sharp and disbelieving. “Right. And next you’ll tell me dear ol’ Dad is hosting brunch.”

Maze rolled her eyes. “They heard your name. Lucifer Morningstar. Didn’t believe it was you. Said they didn’t want to get their hopes up in case the universe was playing some sick joke.”

He swallowed.

That sounded like you.

“They said,” Maze added more softly, “that if it really was you… they didn’t know if they could survive seeing you again.”

Silence filled the penthouse.

Lucifer turned back to the piano, staring down at the keys, running a hand through his hair, jaw tight. Memories slammed into him—every one-night stand meant to erase your face, every reckless indulgence, every lie he’d told himself. Even Eve. Sweet, eager Eve, who had adored him for who he used to be.

He’d said Eve was his first love.

He’d lied.

“You know,” he said quietly, “I went to Hell thinking I’d lost everything. Turns out, I’ve just been avoiding the one thing that ever mattered.”

Maze watched him carefully. “You gonna run this time?”

He straightened, eyes burning with something dangerously close to hope.

“No,” Lucifer said. “If you’re here… if you’re really here…”

A slow, wicked smile curved his lips—less playboy, more fallen angel.

“Then I intend to remind you exactly why Heaven was never the same without us.”

Maze’s lips curled into a smirk. “Good. Because you’re stronger than before.”

Lucifer glanced at the elevator, heart pounding for real, for the first time in eons.

“So am I,” he murmured.

tom ellis ! lucifer morningstar (dc) x female reader "clingy/ affectionate boyfriend (in the morning)" headcanons~

A/N- I'm so sorry!! I am in the process of moving houses because the house I'm currently in was a temp house to see if I like the area and I do! So I have a Lucifer/ Tom request that I am working on I promise! I didn't forget about you, I've just been posting drafts in the meantime.. and feel free to drop some Alastor ideas for my Al peeps, just to get me rolling on something. Or if you aren't comfortable commenting feel free to send me a little message! I'll take one or two into account. I am really drawing a blank for Al.. Thank you y'all

(Thought this headcanon idea was cute so hope y'all like it as much as me :))

~Morning Cuddles: Lucifer would pull you close before you even tried to get up, draping himself over you like a weighted blanket. He'd bury his face in your neck and breathe in your scent, muttering little compliments about how beautiful you really are—even half-asleep. He doesn’t care.

~Kisses Galore: He'd be uncharacteristically soft, giving you forehead kisses, kisses along your jaw, shoulder, and even your hand if it’s near him (resting in between you or on your pillow mostly). He'd tease you awake with lazy pecks until you give in with a smile and return the same affection.

~Playful Resistance to the Day: If you had to get up early (say, for work), Lucifer would groan dramatically and cling tighter. “But why must the world steal you from me so soon? Surely humanity can wait a few hours while I keep you all to myself.”

~`Warm Praise: He'd admire you endlessly in the morning glow; he could look at you for hours—not to make it sound weird, of course. He'd tell you how stunning you look, bedhead and all—not that you weren’t already beautiful to him. He'd love the intimacy of those quiet hours when it’s just the two of you: no Lux noise, no chaos, and definitely no Maze or Amenadiel barging in from the elevator.

~Possessive Softness: Morning is when he lets his guard down the most. He’s less the suave Devil King of Lux and more your devilishly in-love partner who doesn’t want to share you with the world.

~The Wake-Up: Lucifer is not a fan of waking up alone. If he stirs and you're not in bed, expect a very dramatic “Darling?!” echoing through the penthouse, followed by him dragging himself out of bed in silk boxer shorts, hair still a mess, just to find you. If you are still in bed, he’ll immediately pull you back into his chest and nuzzle your neck with a satisfied hum, murmuring, “Much better.”

~His Voice: That deep, morning-raspy British accent? Oh, he’d use it shamelessly, whispering every pet name in the book into your skin—“my beautiful one,” “my goddess.” You’d feel every word vibrate against your jaw or collarbone as he kisses you there. He knows the effect it has on you and uses it to every advantage.

~Touchy-Feely: Lucifer’s love language is definitely physical touch. Even if you love personal space, he’s taking it. He’s very physical in the mornings—his hand resting on your waist, your thigh, even tangled in your hair. Anywhere he can touch you, he will. He’s like a dog that needs to stay in contact while awake; he’s not always trying to be seductive (though he definitely can be), sometimes he just wants that grounding closeness.~

~His Reluctance to Let You Go: He hates waking up alone, and he hates you leaving the bed in general. If you try to move toward the edge of the bed, he tightens his grip like a spoiled cat clutching its favorite pillow.

~Pillow Talk: Before you actually get out of bed, Lucifer softens—his voice gentler, his touch calmer. He’ll ask about your day ahead, fuss over whether you’re working too hard, and toss in a compliment every other sentence. He loves those little, quiet conversations where he gets to know your world beyond the penthouse and Lux.

~The Goodbye Ritual (Very Painful): When you finally manage to escape his hold—after he’s tried every tactic to convince you to call in sick and stay in bed all day—Lucifer insists on a proper farewell. He'll kiss you several times—forehead, nose, lips—as if he’s trying to memorize you, and remind you, “Come straight back to me after, won’t you? The bed’s dreadfully empty without you.”

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

Thank you all for the love and support! I appreciate you all so, so much ❤️ If you’re new here, hey! Welcome! Feel free to check out my Tom Ellis Lucifer Morningstar Main Masterlist, “Heartstrings and Hellfire,” as well as my Fallen Angel Mini Masterlist, “First Time for Everything.”

For all my Hazbin Hotel peeps who have caught some of my Alastor content and want to see more, that’s also pinned to the top of my page, with the Mega Masterlist titled “Alastor’s Consciousness.”

If you enjoy one, the other, or even both like me, feel free to give me a follow (if you want! :)) I try to post as much as I can!

tomellis!lucifer x female!reader

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

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

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

ANYWAYS... Happy Valentines Day!

Lucifer Morningstar did not get nervous.

He inspired nervousness.

He caused heart palpitations.

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

He did not get nervous.

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

First, it started with adjusting his cufflinks.

Then he tilted his head and smirked.

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

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

For heaven’s sake.

Wait…

His eyes drifted to the piano.

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

There was nothing.

Lucifer just blinked.

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

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

His eyes narrowed.

“…No.”

He checked the bar.

Nothing.

He looked behind the couch.

Absolutely nothing.

His jaw tightened.

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

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

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

Lucifer checked the kitchen island. Empty.

He ran a hand through his hair.

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

He stopped in the middle of the room.

His eyes widened slightly.

“What if someone took them?”

His mind immediately spiraled into the most dramatic conclusion possible.

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

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

He stormed back toward the piano.

And then—

He froze.

There they were.

Behind the piano.

Perfectly safe.

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

He stared at them.

Long pause.

He straightened slowly.

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

He walked over, picking them up carefully.

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

He inspected them like a general reviewing troops.

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

He exhaled slowly.

And walked back to his room.

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

Not just an individual.

You.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Never in centuries had he done Valentine’s Day.

Yet here he was.

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

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

Pause.

“…Unless.”

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

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

But you?

You didn’t melt when he flirted.

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

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

It was because he was him.

That’s what terrified him.

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

Lucifer checked his reflection one final time.

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

“Yes,” he decided. “That will do.”

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

A knock sounded at your door.

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

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

His eyes were softer than usual.

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

You laughed lightly. “Lucifer.”

“Mmm. Say it again.”

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

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

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

Was he—

No.

Impossible.

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

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

But his fingers brushed against his cuff again.

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

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

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

Adore.

He hadn’t meant to say that.

You saw the flicker in his expression.

Lucifer inhaled slowly, then straightened his shoulders.

Right. Enough.

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

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

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

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

You smiled. “Of course.”

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

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

“It’s about you.”

You blinked, stunned.

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

tomellis!lucifermorningstar (dc) x femalereader

Summary: On a rare snowy night in LA, Lucifer’s charm and teasing draw the reader closer in his penthouse, creating electric tension she can’t resist—even as she tries to stay away.

A/N- The Naughty List has officially begun, Hope y'all like this one, to start off my Lucifer side! Yes this is inspired and based on the song "Baby It's Cold Outside."

(version i like:)

Snow was falling outside, fogging the tall glass windows of Lucifer's penthouse. Delicate, strange… like the universe was having a laugh at Los Angeles. Snow was rare here, and of course it chose tonight — when you were alone with him.

You curled up on his leather couch, a warm drink in hand. Early December, soft Christmas music playing. You’d been talking for hours… laughing, teasing, sharing stories he rarely told anyone.

He couldn’t take his eyes off you. Stunning enough to make the stars jealous. Heaven-sent. Breathtaking. And intoxicatingly dangerous.

You glanced at the time, then the window, where flakes drifted lazily.

“Oh wow,” you breathed. “It’s… actually sticking.”

Lucifer followed your gaze, lips curling into that dangerous smile.

“And here I was thinking I was the one making you shiver.”

You rolled your eyes, trying not to smile. He noticed — of course he did. He thrived on it.

You stood, placing your empty glass on the coffee table and straightening your clothes.

“I should get going. Roads are probably still clear enough and—”

“Darling,” he interrupted, lounging back like sin in silk. “It’s snowing in Los Angeles. That’s practically a sign. Either way, it means you should stay.”

“I really can’t,” you said, reaching for your coat.

“This evening has been—”

“—everything I hoped you’d drop in for,” he finished with a grin, rising to his feet.

You tried not to watch the way his shirt clung to him. You failed.

“It’s been very nice,” you said softly, looking away.

Lucifer stepped closer, invading your space. Eyes glinting, voice low.

“I’ll hold your hands — they’re freezing.”

Before you could protest, he took your hands in his, rubbing warmth into your fingers. Electricity shot through you.

“Lucifer,” you warned.

His brows lifted. “Yes, that is indeed my name. And you look breathtaking when you say it.”

You tugged your hands back, chest fluttering, and stepped away… but didn’t go far.

“So really, I’d better scurry.”

Lucifer tsked. “Beautiful, please don’t hurry.”

He brushed past you, fingers grazing your arm. Then, at the bar, he poured a little more into your glass.

“Sit. Relax. Half a drink more.”

You sighed and sank back onto the couch. “Fine. Half. Nothing more.”

His eyes sparkled. “I’ll put on some proper records while I pour, shall I?”

You laughed. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet irresistibly charming,” he said, switching the music to something slower, richer… sensual. Very Lucifer.

When he returned with the glass, you muttered, “The neighbors might think—”

“Baby,” he leaned over the couch, dangerously close, “it’s hellish out there.”

The word hit you like a spark. Breath caught. Heart stuttering. You tried to hide it — failed.

“Don’t call me that,” you murmured.

“Why not? You look divine when I do.”

Trying to steady yourself, you sipped the drink, looking down.

“Lucifer… what’s in this?”

“Nothing but alcohol and poor judgment,” he said, smiling. “And no cabs can be had out there. Roads are frozen. Tires spinning. LA is chaos.”

He sat beside you again. Much. Closer.

You swallowed, noticing just how near he was.

“Lucifer…”

“Yes, darling?”

“I wish I knew how to make you behave.”

His smirk sharpened, flashing teeth. “You don’t want me well-behaved.”

“Lucifer—”

“Mind if I move in closer?” He brushed his knee against yours.

Your inhale betrayed you. Pulse racing. Every nerve alert.

“You’re not subtle,” you whispered.

“Delighted you noticed.” His eyes locked onto yours, warm, intense.

“But truly… what’s the sense of hurting my pride? Especially when you want to stay just as much as I want you to.”

“I’m not sleeping with you,” you said, firm but quiet.

He softened, patient. “I know,” he murmured, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “Staying doesn’t mean that. I’m not rushing your innocence, darling… though I do enjoy making you blush.”

You shoved his shoulder lightly, cheeks flaming.

“And I really can’t stay,” you muttered, mostly to yourself. He knew you weren’t leaving — and didn’t want you to.

Lucifer leaned back, hands open helplessly.

“Baby, don’t hold out on me.”

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.

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.”

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