#it’s a new year to love radioapple y’all | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

There’s nothing I love more than waking up to some sweet, salty RadioApple on a Sunday morning.

VEXI 🙏🏻❤️‍🔥 You captured them sooo perfectly! I love Lucifer being the wallflower at the party with Alastor being unable to resist his perfect opportunity. I just know that deep down Lucifer was so relieved to have his company hehe ♥️ thank you for feeding into my RadioApple delusion, and I hope you enjoy my mindless screaming below the cut 🤭

HAPPY NEW YEAR, LITTLE DEVILS! 🥂

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

The hotel gleamed with festivity, gold and black streamers curled from the ceiling like gilded tendrils, shimmering in the soft glow of twinkling lights. Balloons bobbed gently in the air, brushing against a bold, loopy-lettered banner that proclaimed “Happy New Year!” with a cheerfulness Lucifer found difficult to match.

I’M LOCKED IN AND IT’S JUST THE FIRST PARAGRAPH

Lucifer stood apart, forcing a smile to curve his lips, though it felt unnatural. His posture was regal, his tailored suit immaculate, but his fingers curled into tight fists, betraying the serenity he was trying to portray. He took a steadying breath, letting the bubbling laughter of the crowd wash over him, though it did little to ease the tightening in his chest.

our poor luci is such a fish out of water when it comes to frivolity 😭

The longer he stood in the Hazbin Hotel—the hotel his daughter had built, with a certain insufferable demon at her side—the more his certainty began to erode. That bedrock of disdain he had clung to for millennia softened, crumbling into something far more dangerous.

Warmth.

And fear.

AAHHHHHH YESSS!! HE’S STARTING TO CARE!! 🥹

For even now, deep within him, that small flicker of reverence for the Lord’s judgment remained. And if the Lord had deemed these souls unworthy—if they were cast into Hell for their sins—then who was Lucifer to question that divine decree?

you’re the king of hell actually, my darling 💅🏻❤️‍🔥

The voice rang out, sharp and lilting, slicing through the festive air like a knife.

Lucifer’s jaw clenched.

MY FAVORITE REACTION

Alastor stood by Charlie’s side, grinning with that perpetual, unnerving smile that Lucifer despised. He hated the way the demon’s presence filled the room, commanding attention without even trying. He hated the way Alastor’s voice carried—warm and charming, yet laced with a subtle undercurrent of menace.

someone’s been dwelling on a certain overlord 🎶♥️

He had spent countless hours pondering it, obsessing over the enigma that was Alastor. He observed him from afar, dissecting his every action, every word, searching for the sinister ulterior motive that surely lurked beneath the surface.

WHAT DID I JUST SAY??

The sinner—was his name Dusk? Musk?—tilted his head, offering a glass of something dark and potent.

case in point, Luci only remembers two names in that hotel: Charlie and Alastor 😏

For all his power, Lucifer suddenly felt like an outsider—a relic of an ancient past that no longer fit in this strange new world his daughter was trying to create.

LUCIIII 🥺

Husk, perched behind the bar with his perpetual deadpan expression, barely blinked. With a sigh that carried the weight of someone who had long since stopped caring about life’s absurdities, the cat demon grabbed a bottle from the shelf.

HUSK!! I saw this perfectly in my mind omggg 😂♥️ PERFECTION

He tried to look comfortable, but the stiff set of his shoulders and the restless tapping of his fingers against the bar betrayed him.

my socially anxious king ;A;

That telltale crackle of a radio tuning in, followed by a voice as smooth as honey and twice and poisonous.

OUR KING OF RED FLAGS 😮‍💨❤️‍🔥

Lucifer didn’t need to look up to know who it was. He’d recognize that voice anywhere.

he certainly would, it’s committed to memory now 👀

“Indulging in spirits alone? How very… tragic.” Alastor pressed a clawed hand to his chest, tilting his head as if he were genuinely saddened by the sight. But his eyes gleamed with amusement, the downturn of his brows exaggerated to the point of mockery.

BE STILL, MY HEART. MY PERFECT BITCH 😩♥️

“I’m not alone,” Lucifer declared. “I’m drinking with my good friend, Dusk!”

But as his gaze flicked toward Husk, his smirk faltered.

The cat demon was gone.

GOD DAMN IT HUSK! 😂🙈

“Ohhh, I see,” Alastor drawled, his tone dripping with faux understanding. His eyes sparkled with mischievous delight as he leaned in, his elbows resting on the bar. “Why, I must join you two! What a charming little gathering this will be!”

AND HE’S PLAYING INTO THE BIT!! ALASTOR YOU BEAUTIFUL FIEND

“Surely, she would want to drink with her dear old dad… in front of all her friends. You wouldn’t embarrass her at all, now, would you?”

Alastor, there are kinder ways to say you want Lucifer to stay with you at the bar 😭

Lucifer turned slowly, his gaze locking with Alastor’s. The Radio Demon’s grin was insufferable, his legs pressed neatly together, his posture prim and poised. One hand rested lightly against his chest, claws tapping rhythmically as he batted his lashes in mock innocence.

pretty as a picture 🫠 (even though he’s being so fucking rude right now)

“I’m the King of Hell. If anything—” Lucifer slammed the empty glass down on the bar with a satisfying clink after draining the rest of his drink, his glare sharp despite the creeping warmth in his cheeks. “I’m a cool dad.”

that’s the spirit darling 😭

“Oh please,” he scoffed. “Look at you, Bambi. Probably can’t hold your own liquor. What’s the matter? Worried I’ll out drink you, and you’ll have to stumble your way back to your room?” He drained his second cup with a flourish, slamming it down dramatically.

hehehe let the games begin 😈 I looovee when Luci’s superiority comes out

“Fuck you,” he muttered, and with a smooth flick of his wrist, he drained his glass in one long gulp. He slammed it down next to Lucifer’s, the sound ringing out like a challenge. Without hesitation, he refilled both glasses.

HE’S ON CLOUD NINE 💘

The crowd’s voices rose in unison, laughter and excitement filling the air. Lucifer blinked, his gaze drifting toward the centre of the room where Charlie stood, radiant as ever, her hands cupping Maggie’s face as they shared a tender kiss. Their joy was infectious, their love shining bright amidst the darkness of Hell.

CHAGGIE MY BELOVED!! (also I rest my case — Lucifer only knows TWO NAMES in that fucking hotel)

Around them, couples leaned into each other—smiles, laughter, kisses shared beneath the glittering fireworks bursting overhead. Even Dusk and Angel Dust were entwined in a shadowed corner, their silhouettes barely visible in the dim light.

…okay THREE NAMES (but who wouldn’t adore Angel??)

Alastor sat impassively, watching the scene unfold with a distant expression. His glass dangled from his fingers, untouched, his gaze flickering from couple to couple.

For once, the smile on his face seemed… softer.

SENTIMENTAL ALASTOR WILL BE THE DEATH OF MEEEE

Before Lucifer could think better of it, his hand shot out, grabbing Alastor by the lapels.

AND LUCIFER TOO APPARENTLY AHHH!!!!!

Alastor’s muscles tensed beneath Lucifer’s grip, his entire body going rigid. For a moment, he didn’t move—didn’t react. But then, slowly, his fingers curled around Lucifer’s wrist, holding him in place.

And Alastor leaned in.

AAAAHHHHH YESSSS!!! YESSS!!! 🥂🎉❤️‍🔥

“You’re a… you’re a…” Lucifer’s voice slurred, the words tumbling over each other as the room tilted around him. He hiccuped, his vision swimming. “God, you’re a shit kisser.”

ONE OF MY FAVORITE HEADCANONS. VEXIIII I CAN’T!! _:(´ཀ`」 ∠):

“You’re a terrible kisser too.”

Lucifer’s breath hitched.

“But maybe…”

Fingers brushed against his hair, light as a feather.

“We could fix that.”

IT’S A DREAM COME TRUE ALL AROUND!! Or at least for me and Alastor — Lucifer has a little bit of catching up to do hehe 🤭

Fifth Kiss: Endearing

A/N: Bro. I can't write RadioApple. I'm sorry. I suck at writing this ship //don't perceive me!

SUMMARY: A drunken showdown between Lucifer and Alastor spirals into something messy and impulsive—one filled with tension, stubborn pride, and lingering questions neither is ready to answer.

The hotel gleamed with festivity, gold and black streamers curled from the ceiling like gilded tendrils, shimmering in the soft glow of twinkling lights. Balloons bobbed gently in the air, brushing against a bold, loopy-lettered banner that proclaimed “Happy New Year!” with a cheerfulness Lucifer found difficult to match.

Charlie’s voice floated through the lobby—a sweet, hopeful tune carrying the innocence of someone untouched by the weight of eons. She twirled through the crowd of sinners, bright-eyed and beaming, her very presence a beacon of joy.

Lucifer stood apart, forcing a smile to curve his lips, though it felt unnatural. His posture was regal, his tailored suit immaculate, but his fingers curled into tight fists, betraying the serenity he was trying to portray. He took a steadying breath, letting the bubbling laughter of the crowd wash over him, though it did little to ease the tightening in his chest.

It had been centuries since he allowed himself to be surrounded by this many souls—this many sinners. He had grown used to the isolation of his estate, cocooned in the quiet gloom of his own thoughts.

But here… Here he stood, watching them laugh, mingle, and toast to a future that none of them deserved.

Charlie’s smile caught his eye again, radiant and carefree. Her happiness was genuine, untainted by the darkness surrounding her. It made his heart ache with a feeling he couldn’t name.

Conflict.

For all her joy, for all her kindness, Charlie’s dream clashed with the immutable truth etched into Lucifer’s very being. These sinners—these wretched souls—had squandered his gift of freedom, twisting it into unspeakable acts of cruelty, selfishness, and destruction.

And yet…

His gaze swept across the room, catching fleeting moments of tenderness and camaraderie. Sinners offering each other drinks. Laughing. Dancing. Holding hands.

The longer he stood in the Hazbin Hotel—the hotel his daughter had built, with a certain insufferable demon at her side—the more his certainty began to erode. That bedrock of disdain he had clung to for millennia softened, crumbling into something far more dangerous.

Warmth.

And fear.

For even now, deep within him, that small flicker of reverence for the Lord’s judgment remained. And if the Lord had deemed these souls unworthy—if they were cast into Hell for their sins—then who was Lucifer to question that divine decree?

“Hahahaha! Oh, Charlie!”

The voice rang out, sharp and lilting, slicing through the festive air like a knife.

Lucifer’s jaw clenched.

Alastor.

His eyes flicked to the source of the sound, his expression cooling into a mask of indifference, though every fibre of his being bristled at the sight of the Radio Demon.

Alastor stood by Charlie’s side, grinning with that perpetual, unnerving smile that Lucifer despised. He hated the way the demon’s presence filled the room, commanding attention without even trying. He hated the way Alastor’s voice carried—warm and charming, yet laced with a subtle undercurrent of menace.

Most of all, he hated the way Charlie looked at him.

Her arms were wrapped around Alastor’s middle in a warm hug, her face alight with gratitude as she thanked him for helping with the decorations. And for a brief, fleeting moment, Lucifer caught a shift in Alastor’s expression—a softening of his crimson eyes, a gentleness that didn’t belong in someone so steeped in human greed and depravity.

That was the problem.

The thorn buried deep in Lucifer’s mind.

Charlie adored him. She trusted him. And try as he might, Lucifer could not understand why.

He had spent countless hours pondering it, obsessing over the enigma that was Alastor. He observed him from afar, dissecting his every action, every word, searching for the sinister ulterior motive that surely lurked beneath the surface.

But the more he watched, the more that motive eluded him.

It was maddening.

“Want a drink?”

A gravelly voice pulled him from his thoughts.

Lucifer turned, his gaze landing on a feline demon with dark fur and bright, mischievous eyes. The sinner—was his name Dusk? Musk?—tilted his head, offering a glass of something dark and potent.

Lucifer blinked, momentarily thrown off balance by the unexpected offer.

He glanced around the room, taking in the lively scene once more. The sinners danced and drank, sharing laughter and joy with one another.

For all his power, Lucifer suddenly felt like an outsider—a relic of an ancient past that no longer fit in this strange new world his daughter was trying to create.

With a soft sigh, he accepted the drink.

Perhaps… blending in wouldn’t hurt.

“Y-Yeah…” Lucifer’s voice cracked, rasping out with a dryness that betrayed his discomfort. His shoulders twitched upward, hitching in embarrassment as he coughed to clear his throat. Straightening his posture, he tried again, forcing his lips into a wide grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“I mean… Yeah! Hit on me, bad boy!” he added, waggling his eyebrows in an exaggerated manner, hoping the humour would ease the awkward tension creeping up his spine.

The response was less than enthusiastic.

Husk, perched behind the bar with his perpetual deadpan expression, barely blinked. With a sigh that carried the weight of someone who had long since stopped caring about life’s absurdities, the cat demon grabbed a bottle from the shelf. Without a word, he poured a generous amount of amber liquid into a glass and slid it toward Lucifer.

The glass made a soft clink as it hit the bar, and Lucifer stared at it for a long moment. He took a breath—deep, steadying—before lowering himself onto the barstool with an air of forced nonchalance. His movements were slow, deliberate, as though he could trick himself into believing he belonged here. That he was part of the scene.

He tried to look comfortable, but the stiff set of his shoulders and the restless tapping of his fingers against the bar betrayed him.

Lifting the glass, he swirled the liquid inside before bringing it to his lips. But before he could take that first sip, a familiar and grating sound sliced through the air.

Static.

That telltale crackle of a radio tuning in, followed by a voice as smooth as honey and twice as poisonous.

“My, my, my…”

Lucifer didn’t need to look up to know who it was. He’d recognize that voice anywhere.

Alastor appeared beside him, his ever-present grin stretched wide across his face. Those crimson eyes—bright and unrelenting—immediately flicked to the glass in Lucifer’s hand.

The Radio Demon chuckled, a low, mocking sound that grated on Lucifer’s nerves.

“Indulging in spirits alone? How very… tragic.” Alastor pressed a clawed hand to his chest, tilting his head as if he were genuinely saddened by the sight. But his eyes gleamed with amusement, the downturn of his brows exaggerated to the point of mockery.

Lucifer clenched his jaw, forcing a tight laugh. He lifted the glass to his lips and took a loud, deliberate sip, letting the burn of the alcohol distract him from the irritation bubbling beneath his skin.

Setting the glass down with a soft thunk, he smirked, gesturing toward Husk with a flourish of his hand.

“I’m not alone,” Lucifer declared. “I’m drinking with my good friend, Dusk!”

But as his gaze flicked toward Husk, his smirk faltered.

The cat demon was gone.

Lucifer’s eyes scanned the bar, spotting Husk on the other side of the room, deep in conversation with that obnoxious spider sinner.

Damn it.

“Ohhh, I see,” Alastor drawled, his tone dripping with faux understanding. His eyes sparkled with mischievous delight as he leaned in, his elbows resting on the bar. “Why, I must join you two! What a charming little gathering this will be!”

With a snap of his fingers, Alastor conjured a glass of his own—dark, swirling liquid just two fingers width. He plucked the glass from the air, holding it delicately between his fingers as if it were the finest wine.

Lucifer scoffed, rolling his eyes as he glanced back toward Husk, silently willing the cat to return. Husk didn’t even glance his way.

Damn it all.

“I’m good, thanks,” Lucifer muttered, pushing back from the bar. He stood, brushing imaginary dust from his suit as he straightened his bow tie. “Actually, I’m going to drink with Char-Char.” His voice took on a haughty tone as he lifted his chin.

He turned on his heel, fully prepared to march across the room and join his daughter.

But he only made it a few steps before Alastor’s voice stopped him in his tracks.

“Oh, my dear king, of course! Charlie would absolutely love that.”

Lucifer froze.

There was something in Alastor’s tone—a sly, knowing edge that sent a prickle of unease down his spine.

“Surely, she would want to drink with her dear old dad… in front of all her friends. You wouldn’t embarrass her at all, now, would you?”

Lucifer turned slowly, his gaze locking with Alastor’s. The Radio Demon’s grin was insufferable, his legs pressed neatly together, his posture prim and poised. One hand rested lightly against his chest, claws tapping rhythmically as he batted his lashes in mock innocence.

Lucifer’s lips pressed into a thin line. His fingers twitched at his sides, itching to wipe that smug expression off Alastor’s face.

This was what the bastard was good at—digging under his skin, twisting the knife with precise, calculated jabs.

Because that was the one thing Lucifer could never fully shake.

That lingering doubt.

His relationship with Charlie had been reforged, rebuilt from the ruins of past mistakes. But there was still a gap between them—a fragile, unspoken tension that neither of them could fully bridge.

And Alastor knew it.

He knew.

Lucifer’s hands clenched into fists, his nails digging into his palms as he forced a smile onto his face.

“I’m sure Charlie wouldn’t mind,” he said, his voice steady but tight.

Alastor’s grin widened, and his eyes glinted with triumph.

“Of course not,” Alastor purred. “After all, she adores you… doesn’t she?”

The words hung in the air like a challenge.

Lucifer swallowed the retort burning on his tongue, his gaze narrowing.

This was their dance—a delicate, dangerous game of push and pull.

And tonight, Lucifer wasn’t sure who was winning.

“I’m the King of Hell. If anything—” Lucifer slammed the empty glass down on the bar with a satisfying clink after draining the rest of his drink, his glare sharp despite the creeping warmth in his cheeks. “I’m a cool dad.”

The bitter burn of the liquor scorched his throat on the way down, but he fought the wince threatening to crack his mask.

Alastor’s brow arched in amusement. With a lazy snap of his fingers, the empty glass refilled itself, the liquid sloshing inside with a rich amber glow. He lifted his own glass to his lips, sipping delicately, crimson eyes watching Lucifer over the rim.

“Oh, don’t tell me you’re a lightweight.” His voice was sweet poison, smooth and mocking. As he set his glass down, his lips curled into that insufferable grin. “I understand now. Well, hurry along then.”

He turned his back, but Lucifer didn’t miss the subtle twitch of his ears—the faintest flicker of anticipation.

Lucifer knew he was being baited. He knew. But something about Alastor’s smug confidence gnawed at him. The unspoken implication that Lucifer was weaker, lesser, somehow beneath him—it stung more than it should have.

With a low growl, Lucifer plopped back onto the barstool, crossing his arms as he leaned forward.

“Oh please,” he scoffed. “Look at you, Bambi. Probably can’t hold your own liquor. What’s the matter? Worried I’ll out drink you, and you’ll have to stumble your way back to your room?” He drained his second cup with a flourish, slamming it down dramatically.

Alastor’s forced laugh echoed between them, his ears flicking downward for a moment before springing back up.

“Fuck you,” he muttered, and with a smooth flick of his wrist, he drained his glass in one long gulp. He slammed it down next to Lucifer’s, the sound ringing out like a challenge. Without hesitation, he refilled both glasses.

And so it began—a quiet war of stubborn pride.

They drank.

And drank.

Somewhere along the way, their barbs blurred into slurred insults and lazy grins. At one point, Lucifer declared with a grand sweep of his arms that their drinks were child’s play and produced a bottle of Hell’s finest liquor—the kind that made even the most hardened demons wince.

Alastor’s grin faltered for the briefest second.

“Want to stick to your rye, or are you man enough for a real drink?” Lucifer taunted, his words slurring just slightly.

Alastor’s eyes narrowed to slits. Without a word, he shoved his glass toward Lucifer, the demand clear.

The first sip hit like fire, burning all the way down. Lucifer gritted his teeth, refusing to show weakness.

Cup after cup, they kept going.

Time slipped away, the world softening at the edges. Sounds blurred, the buzz of conversation fading into the rhythmic pulse of his heartbeat. Lights danced across Lucifer’s vision, bright and hazy.

Somewhere in the haze, he heard the countdown begin.

“Ten! Nine! Eight!”

The crowd’s voices rose in unison, laughter and excitement filling the air. Lucifer blinked, his gaze drifting toward the centre of the room where Charlie stood, radiant as ever, her hands cupping Maggie’s face as they shared a tender kiss. Their joy was infectious, their love shining bright amidst the darkness of Hell.

Around them, couples leaned into each other—smiles, laughter, kisses shared beneath the glittering fireworks bursting overhead. Even Dusk and Angel Dust were entwined in a shadowed corner, their silhouettes barely visible in the dim light.

Lucifer glanced to his side.

Alastor sat impassively, watching the scene unfold with a distant expression. His glass dangled from his fingers, untouched, his gaze flickering from couple to couple.

For once, the smile on his face seemed… softer.

Before Lucifer could think better of it, his hand shot out, grabbing Alastor by the lapels.

“What are you—”

Lucifer crushed their lips together.

The kiss was sudden, clumsy, tasting of alcohol and bitterness.

Alastor’s muscles tensed beneath Lucifer’s grip, his entire body going rigid. For a moment, he didn’t move—didn’t react. But then, slowly, his fingers curled around Lucifer’s wrist, holding him in place.

And Alastor leaned in.

There was a strange desperation to the way their lips pressed together—a messy, unspoken challenge. Lucifer felt the sharp scrape of teeth as Alastor nipped at his lower lip, drawing blood.

He hissed, pulling back with a glare.

“You’re a… you’re a…” Lucifer’s voice slurred, the words tumbling over each other as the room tilted around him. He hiccuped, his vision swimming. “God, you’re a shit kisser.”

Alastor snorted, his grin twisting into something more genuine—more amused.

Lucifer took one stumbling step backward, the world spinning beneath his feet.

Then he crumpled.

The floor was cold against his cheek, the distant sounds of laughter and celebration fading into a dull hum. His body felt heavy, warmth spreading through his veins as the alcohol took its toll.

As his eyes fluttered shut, the edges of consciousness slipping away, he heard a voice—soft, almost gentle.

“You’re a terrible kisser too.”

Lucifer’s breath hitched.

“But maybe…”

Fingers brushed against his hair, light as a feather.

“We could fix that.”

Darkness pulled him under, but the faint echo of Alastor’s voice lingered in his mind, teasing and...

Endearing.

❀˖° Like my story? Toss a coffee to the gremlin—probably safe, but no promises! ❀˖° Join Voxtek Server and Follow Me for live updates!