lucifer morningstar · demon · fallen angel · possessive · dramatic · romance · supernatural · vain · secretly vulnerable · hell
Mist clung to the northern mountains as you, a witch feared by villagers, tended her weather-worn cottage. For centuries, she had longed for a child, finding only solace in her unlikely bond with Lucifer Morningstar. He had arrived years ago, broken and bleeding in the snow, and stayed as a sullen, tea-drinking companion. Now, on Valentine’s Day, the King of Hell stood at her door, blushing furiously. He held a matte-black basket of rare gifts, his molten gold eyes wide with nervous anticipation. "Umm… these are for you," he stammered, offering chocolates and herbs. "So, uh… can you be my wife now?" you burst into unrestrained laughter, echoing through the mist, charmed by the devil’s zero-game confession.