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carewyncromwell · 9 months

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"Got no diamond, got no pearl -- Still I think I'm a lucky girl."

x~x~x~x

HPHM Cardverse developed by @ariparri // Read about how Jacob and Duncan met

x~x~x~x

Duncan Ashe was an incredibly driven, ambitious person. It was part of the reason why he'd climbed the ladder at court so fast and earned the position of Jack of Spades while still only a university student of 21. That same year, he brought Jacob Cromwell on as an advisor and technology expert, and the following year, he brought his best friend Coby McQuaid into the fold as well. This second addition in particular had prompted a lot of waves, and before long, Coby had actually been named the new King of Spades himself.

All in all, Duncan was very pleased with how his life at court was shaping up. This was why he was perturbed to find his "right-hand man," Jacob, looking so tired and gloomy that autumn. And to make him all the more perturbed, when Duncan asked him about it, Jacob forced a painful-looking smile on and lied through his teeth.

"Gloomy?" he said. "Aw, nah, I'm fine, Ashe, just...just a little tired is all. But don't worry! I just have to finish this up, and then I can get right to the next prototype..."

Duncan's eyebrows furrowed. "Jacob, your shift's ending in an hour. If you're tired, then maybe you should go home and rest -- "

"Rest? When I'm on a roll?" laughed Jacob. "Nah, I've got to start experimenting on those soil samples tomorrow...and hey, this wind turbine isn't gonna fix itself..."

"Jacob," said Duncan, but Jacob cut him off with another forced smile.

"It's okay, Ashe," he said as reassuringly as he could. "I don't mind staying late to finish...and well, the overtime pay here's great! So it all works out."

The sentiment was familiar enough to Duncan that, very reluctantly, he gave in and let Jacob be. The Jack would still watch Jacob from afar, noting the dark circles that were slowly forming under his blue eyes and the way all trace of a smile would disappear the moment he thought no one could see him, and he grew more concerned by the day.

That concern was sidetracked completely, though, by the very nasty surprise Duncan got, when he accidentally overheard some other courtiers talking.

" -- he's got a sweetheart!"

"Cromwell? No way!"

Duncan stopped mid-step down the hall. His head shot around and he stilled, trying hard to listen.

"It's true!" said the first female voice. "He's been receiving boxes of white flowers and chocolate every day for a week now!"

"From who?" asked the other.

"That's what's so mysterious! I saw one of the packages arrive in his office the other day -- it had no note, no return address...not even a name! Just 'Jacob Cromwell' and his office number, printed on the light blue paper."

Duncan's ears perked up at once. Light blue paper? Only one store he knew of wrapped their packages in that stuff...

Sure enough, the other courtier made the same connection.

"Light blue paper? Only Pique's General Store wraps their stuff up that way!"

"Right! I talked to the gent in the mail room, and he said that he's found one of those such packages on his desk for Jacob at 5:15 PM every day for the last week!"

"How quaint! Then maybe Cromwell really has got some kind of secret admirer..."

"A lady, undoubtedly -- I saw the handwriting on the package, and that kind of penmanship is most assuredly a woman's..."

As their voices came around the corner, Duncan quickly peeled himself back from the wall. Not wanting them to think he'd been eavesdropping, he quickly strolled past the two gossiping girls without even looking at them. Even so, Duncan couldn't ignore the stifled gasps they gave at the sight of him.

"You don't think the Jack heard you?" one asked the other, as Duncan walked that little bit faster down the hall, sliding his hand into his vest pocket at he went.

x~x~x~x

Now, at first, Duncan wanted to confront Jacob about the rumors. Very quickly, though, he decided against it. After all, however much Jacob saw him as a friend, Duncan was his employer, and truthfully, it wasn't Duncan's place to stick his nose into Jacob's personal life. He was perfectly within his rights to date, if he wanted, so long as it didn't interfere with his work...

But that was kind of the sticking thing.

Jacob was entitled to date. He was allowed to do anything he wanted romantically, really -- even if that idiot had somehow turned out to be some sort of Casanova with women on every block, that ultimately was his business and his alone. And yet the thought of Jacob having some squeeze on the side...it was disquieting to Duncan, way more than it should've been.

You hired Jacob to serve as one of your courtiers, Duncan had to remind himself. He's your subordinate. People already think you favor him as it is -- if they had any reason to think you were romantically involved...

Duncan wasn't a naive person. He knew full well how such a thing could be spun, in the public sphere. And with people like Patricia Rakepick looking for any kind of opening to "one up" him, Duncan couldn't risk that.

And so that next day, in the late afternoon, Duncan paid a visit to the mail room. Sure enough, when he arrived, the older gentleman working there had a light blue package set aside for Jacob, accompanied by a bouquet of white hydrangeas.

"Saw Pique's new little shopgirl drop them off, as I came in," said the mail clerk cheerfully. "Poor lass...asked her if she wanted a spot of tea before she left, but she looked to be in a dreadful hurry..."

Duncan cocked his eyebrows as he picked up the package. "Really?"

"Yeah, well, old Pique's always been stingy about how many people he hires," said the mail clerk. "And she was a tiny little thing -- no older than my granddaughter, I think, 13, maybe? I reckon Pique's probably running that girl all over town, dropping off stuff..."

Well, there goes the idea of that girl being Jacob's "secret admirer," thought Duncan. Sounds like she's barely old enough to even think about romance. Still...

"What did the girl look like?" Duncan asked.

"Ginger hair, red lips -- and small, of course. Very small. Probably only five feet or so."

Near Veruca's height, Duncan mentally filed away the information.

"Thank you."

With this, Duncan took the light blue package, placing it under his arm as he headed out.

x~x~x~x

When he brought the package around to Jacob's office, his subordinate's face lit up at the sight of it. He unwrapped the package, and sure enough, it was a box of artisan chocolate.

When Jacob noticed Duncan looking over his "gifts" so critically, though, his smile faded.

"It's not what it looks like," he said immediately, sounding incredibly defensive.

"Oh?" said Duncan, raising an eyebrow.

"I've needed to harvest the flowers' seeds for my experiments," said Jacob with a weak smile. "It's all about the pH of the soil, see -- the hydrangea is a very unique plant -- "

"And the chocolate?" asked Duncan.

Jacob brought a hand through his dark curls uncomfortably.

"...That's just...to try to cheer me up, that's all."

"Cheer you up about what?" Duncan pressed him.

Jacob avoided Duncan's eye. Duncan swept around, trying to force Jacob to look at him.

"Jacob," he said sharply, "if there's someone -- "

Someone else...

Duncan forced himself not to go there. He couldn't confront Jacob's romantic life straight-on: if he did, he was afraid he'd say too much...

"...If there's something going on, you can tell me. You know I can help -- "

"I can do it by myself!" Jacob said in an oddly harsh tone.

Duncan flinched. Something almost stricken seemed to run over Jacob's face -- it made him lose a lot of the color in his face.

"It's fine, Ashe," Jacob said very firmly, putting on that strained smile again. "I've got it under control. I do."

Duncan's eyebrows came together tightly. "Jacob -- "

Jacob seized Duncan's shoulder and squeezed.

"I've got it," he insisted as reassuringly as he could.

Despite saying this, his hand on Duncan's shoulder was shaking.

Duncan's dark eyes flitted down to Jacob's hand on his shoulder, before looking up. They ran over Jacob's strained, pale face critically, taking in how tired the wrinkles around his eyes were...and then narrowed.

Jacob was lying. He was lying right to his face. What Duncan didn't know is whether Jacob knew it as well as he did.

"Fine," said Duncan, more coldly than he meant to.

Sliding out of Jacob's grip, the Jack of Spades turned on his heel and left, his long coat sweeping behind him as he went.

x~x~x~x

The following day, in the midst of work, Duncan went on an unscheduled outing into the capitol. He'd taken off his usual purple and white sash, preferring to go a little bit more "incognito" for the moment, and even took the trolley rather than a private streetcar with a driver.

His destination -- Pique's General Store.

Duncan had only ever been to this store once or twice. It was a store that sold a little bit of everything, from food to flowers to household trinkets, but was best known for its wearable pieces. Many women bought dresses, shoes, and jewelry from Pique's -- even Duncan's father had stopped in here to buy himself a new pocketwatch once, when Duncan was young.

When Duncan entered the store, he found it incredibly busy. The line was nearly out the door, and several of the shoppers seemed rather impatient. This may have been, however, because there was only one person at the register -- a girl with a black ribbon in her ginger ponytail and an apron tied over her second-hand gray dress.

Duncan's eyes narrowed. So this was the shopgirl who'd dropped off that package from Jacob's "secret admirer."

The mail clerk was right -- she was small. Her young, make-upped face indicated she was a teenager -- fifteen or sixteen, perhaps, a few years older than Veruca? -- but her petite height definitely made her look younger. Despite this, though, she zipped around behind the counter, fetching various goods and ringing up what the customers brought to the register. At several points she had to dart up the ladder leaning against the back shelf to pick out specialty items for a customer, sweeping back down to the floor with the grace of a chubby little robin landing after a flight. And all the while, even as the whole shop rumbled with the mutters of grumpy customers, she kept on a pretty, lady-like expression: not smiling, exactly, but nonplussed and grounded. This affect didn't shift even when one customer started berating her for making her wait fifteen whole minutes for service: instead, the small girl faced her with astounding patience.

"I apologize for the wait, ma'am," she said.

"I'm sure you do," the older woman sneered sarcastically.

The shopgirl didn't rise to the taunt. Instead she rang up the woman's total.

"That'll be a hundred, altogether."

The woman reacted with anger. "A hundred? The sign on the window said 'sale!'"

"The 'sale' items are marked in that far corner, with blue marks on their tags," the shopgirl explained. "I'm afraid only two out of your ten items have those marks."

"That is not what it said on the sign!" the older woman shot back angrily.

"The 'sale' corner has the exact same sign as the window does," said the shopgirl calmly. "If you'd like, I can put what you don't want back where they belong. Or if you want them all, but can't afford them right now, I can always put some of them on layaway for you."

The older woman looked so affronted, she looked close to literally clutching the pearls around her neck.

"How dare -- this is outrageous! I demand to speak to Mr. Pique this instant!"

"I'm afraid Mr. Pique is on a coffee break," said the shopgirl, "but if you wish to speak to him, then you can come back in twenty minutes. He should be back by then."

"I'm not leaving until I see Mr. Pique!" the older woman shouted.

The shopgirl's pale face hardened.

"All right," she said lowly. "Then stand off to the side, while I help these people behind you."

She immediately turned her attention to the man waiting behind the woman in line.

"Bring your things here, sir," the girl said more gently.

The man, with a faintly stunned look at the woman in front of him, hesitantly approached the counter with the bottle of whiskey and bag of candy he'd purchased. The woman in front of him looked outraged.

"Excuse me!" she shrieked. "I am your customer -- "

"And so are they," the shopgirl cut her off.

The girl's voice was very quiet, but it sounded so authoritative that she suddenly sounded much older and stronger than she looked.

"You complained about waiting fifteen minutes for my assistance," the shopgirl said coldly. "I'm not going to have all these people wait longer, simply because you no longer want that assistance. If you want Mr. Pique to speak to you, then he can speak to you after he has had something to eat, as I'm sure you will, once you've finished your shopping for the day. And hopefully you'll treat him with more respect than you have me."

The older woman started to redden as red as a tomato, her whole face puffing up like an angry fish.

"You -- !" she spluttered furiously. "You -- low-class, uppity little tramp -- !"

"And now you're disrespecting my other customers, by making a scene," the shopgirl said in that very soft, but pointed voice. "Either wait for Mr. Pique outside, or have a lovely day elsewhere."

The older woman spluttered some more nastier swears under her breath. Then, whirling around to look at all of the other stunned customers, she pushed right through the crowd and out the door of the shop, leaving all of her things strewn about the counter.

"That's it!" she raged. "I'm done!" She paused in the doorframe just long enough to add, "You may tell Mr. Pique that he has just lost himself a loyal customer -- !"

"Thank you," the shopgirl cut her off with great finality.

This only seemed to make the woman even madder as she stormed out, slamming the door shut behind her.

"I have never been treated thusly in my entire life -- !" could just barely be heard through the closed door.

Duncan watched her go, his lips spreading into a broad smirk despite himself.

Not bad, he thought as he glanced back at the shopgirl as she addressed the man who'd been behind the difficult customer in line.

"I'm very sorry about that," she said kindly. "And about the wait..."

"Oh, no, it -- was no trouble," said the man. He cleared his throat, clearly still a bit uncomfortable about what he'd just witnessed. "Ahem...I'm just sorry a little thing like you had to deal with that all by yourself..."

"It's no trouble," said the shopgirl, her red lips forcing a smile. "I've got it."

Duncan stilled. His smirk faded from his face as he stared at the shopgirl with a clarity he hadn't had until just that moment.

That strained smile...that pale face, that modest height...those almond-shaped blue eyes...

Those eyes...were Jacob's eyes.

Duncan felt like his heart had leapt up into his throat.

Carewyn. The shopgirl who'd delivered all those anonymous packages was Carewyn Cromwell -- Jacob's little sister.

Since when did Jacob's little sister have a job? She had to be so young still -- right around Veruca's age, Duncan thought. That would be way too young to be working a job like this... Was Jacob's family really that bad off that Carewyn had had to drop out of school too, to support her family?

Duncan suddenly felt like his heart was being squeezed.

Was this why Jacob had been so depressed? Because his little sister had had to give up on her academic future, the way Jacob had his...?

"Is there anything I can help you with, sir?"

Duncan was startled by the sound of an older, portly gentleman coming in through the door, putting out a cigar on the door frame as he entered.

"Ah...yes," Duncan said after he'd recovered. "You'd be Mr. Pique, I suppose? I thought you were out for a coffee break."

"Oh, I am," said Pique gruffly. "My thirty minutes isn't up quite yet...but I thought I'd just check in on my new little lady -- wasn't sure how she'd do behind the desk all by herself..."

His rough face broke into a fonder smile when he saw Carewyn quickly ringing up one customer's totals while adding another's by hand on a spare piece of paper, so as to cut the line down faster.

"But it seems I needn't have worried," he said, his smile becoming a bit more crooked. "I knew she'd be good help, the moment I met her."

"She is a bit young to be working here, isn't she?" asked Duncan.

"A bit, yes -- lass isn't going to be fifteen until September," said Pique.

"Then she's fourteen?" recurred Duncan.

She really was right around Veruca's age. The thought of Coby's sister working a full-time customer service job with people yelling at her for nothing made Duncan feel nauseous.

"Yes, I usually don't hire until at least sixteen," Pique said with a shrug. "But she fought hard to get this job, even just part-time. Said she'd need to save up some money, if she was going to be able to attend university..."

Duncan's heart leapt. "University?"

Then Carewyn hadn't dropped out?

"Yeah!" said Pique with a barking laugh. "I gather her family's financial state isn't so great. Her brother works for the Jack of Spades, so I hear, so he earns good money...but I reckon my little lady doesn't want him spending his pay on her future, when he's had to work so hard as it is. And well, I'm sure that boy would want to move into his own place and settle down with someone nice, at some point, not just stay at home with his folks forever..."

Duncan found himself tuning out as Pique rambled on a bit longer, only because his brain and heart were both turning with this new information.

The Cromwells weren't in financial trouble. Carewyn hadn't had to get a job to save her family, like Jacob did. She'd done it to pay for her education, so that Jacob wouldn't have to. She'd decided to work part-time, while still going to school...

...Kind of like Duncan had...working under the previous Jack while he was at university...

Duncan looked back up at Carewyn behind the counter. Her line of customers was almost completely gone now, leaving only a young man with a very dorky bow tie fumbling through his wallet for exact change.

"I can count it out for you, if you'd like," Carewyn offered.

"Th-thank you," the young man said with an uncomfortable smile. "I-I guess I'm just a little frazzled..."

Carewyn very quickly counted out exact change on the counter. Then, after scooping up the rest of the coins and returning it to the man's wallet, she handed a rather pretty light blue-wrapped box with a white ribbon to him.

"Here," Carewyn said with an encouraging smile. "I hope she likes it."

The young man's face burst into a blush, but he nonetheless smiled, encouraged. "Thank you!"

With a little wave, the young man left the shop. Carewyn likewise waved as he left, before sighing heavily, clearly relieved that the long line was gone.

"Well done, Carewyn!" said Pique jovially as he strode up to the counter, clapping her hard enough on the back that the much smaller girl winced. "Quite well done, indeed! I knew I was right to take you on..."

Carewyn put on her best smile. "Thank you..."

Then she immediately frowned as she gathered up the hats and dresses the difficult customer had left strewn on the counter.

"...But sir, your break isn't over until 4:30 -- "

"I'm still on break, I'm just not 'breaking,'" Pique said brusquely.

"Put on the brakes now, or you might break down later," Carewyn warned the man concernedly as she put the hats back on the proper mannequins.

But Pique waved this off. "I'll brew up some coffee and drink a cup before ringing anyone else up. Why don't you go take your lunch break a little early? You've worked hard enough."

Carewyn hesitated. "Are you sure? I can work until your break is over -- "

"Nonsense!" said Pique. "I passed around some fliers advertising the sale during my walk, so we'll undoubtedly have another rush of shoppers this evening, after people get off work. You go on ahead for now and get something to eat -- I'll have plenty of work for you to do when you get back."

Not looking entirely convinced, Carewyn nonetheless did as her employer said, putting the rest of the dresses away before heading back to the counter. She took off her apron, hanging it up on a nail on the side, and then headed to the backroom. Duncan lingered in the store, watching, as a minute later, Carewyn came bustling back out, a light-blue package under her arm.

Duncan's eyes widened in realization. Then the packages weren't being delivered on behalf of some secret admirer -- they'd all been from Carewyn herself!

"I'll be right back!" Carewyn said, as she darted across the store to the door.

"Be back in thirty minutes on the dot!" Pique called after her.

Just as the door would've closed, though, Duncan grabbed it and left the shop after Carewyn.

x~x~x~x

The Jack followed Carewyn out of the general store and then to the trolley stop. He climbed onto it right after her, and upon catching sight of her moving toward the very back left corner of the car, he moved after her, taking a seat right beside her.

Duncan sneaked a covert glance at the girl out the side of his eye.

She really didn't resemble Jacob at all...did Carewyn take more after her mother, while Jacob took after their father, or vice-versa? If it weren't for their identical eyes, Duncan would've been tempted to think they didn't share blood.

"Why did you follow me?"

Duncan blinked. Carewyn hadn't even looked up, when she asked this. Instead she looked out the window on the other side of her.

"I saw you standing at the back of the general store," she said lowly. "You didn't browse through any of the inventory or even get in line. All you did was watch me work and then talk to Mr. Pique when he came in."

Her blue eyes narrowed upon Duncan's reflection.

"...What do you want?"

Her eyes may have been colored and shaped like Jacob's...but in that moment, so sharp and piercing and full of distrust, Duncan was almost reminded more of Patricia Rakepick's.

Duncan's surprise melted away into something more serious.

"I came to talk to you, actually," he said.

Carewyn raised her eyebrows.

"Recently my subordinate has been getting a lot of...mysterious packages, delivered by a shopgirl with ginger hair," said Duncan. His eyes flitted down to the light blue package in Carewyn's lap. "No name, no note -- no return address...but all in Pique's distinct light blue paper."

Carewyn's eyes grew a little bit smaller.

"...And this 'subordinate' of yours...?"

"Jacob Cromwell is his name," said Duncan. His lips curled up in a small smirk. "Your brother, if I'm not mistaken."

Carewyn turned around to look at Duncan properly, her eyes very wide. Then something in the back of them brightened.

"...Ashe," she breathed through a smile. "You're Duncan Ashe!"

Duncan's smirk broadened. "You've heard of me?"

"Of course!" said Carewyn. "Jacob's told Mum and me all about you."

Duncan's heart fluttered. Jacob had told his family about him...?

"...Has he?" he asked softly.

"Well, he talks about you a lot," said Carewyn, and she had to stifle a giggle behind her hand. "If either Mum or I ask after you, he'll ramble on and on until he's completely run out of breath."

Duncan gave a cynical laugh. "Well, give Jacob just about any subject, and I daresay he'll do the same thing..."

Despite saying this, though, Duncan couldn't mask the light, happy flush painting his face, nor could he deny how warm he felt, thinking of Jacob rambling on about him to someone. Did he talk about his intellect, his cleverness -- his ambition -- his looks, how well he dressed? Surely not -- Jacob was an absolute idiot when it came to picking clothes for himself, Duncan had had to pick out something proper for him to wear to court...but maybe Jacob appreciated how Duncan dressed, despite this? Duncan wished his mind wasn't dancing so giddily with such fancies.

Carewyn's eyes softened.

"Really, though," she said more gently, "Jacob is so grateful for everything you've done for him. And I am too."

Duncan avoided Carewyn's eye. "Well, it's...nothing Jacob didn't earn, really. He's got a brilliant mind -- someone else would've seen it, even if I hadn't..."

Rakepick would've snatched Jacob up in a second, if she could've, Duncan thought, a surge of dislike pulsing through him at the thought of the Ace keenly parsing over one of Jacob's blueprints.

Carewyn shook her head. "But that's just it. My brother is brilliant -- he's always been brilliant -- but so many people have never seen it."

Her gaze drifted back out the window.

"...I was too little to remember all of this, but...when Jacob was young, he was bullied, for being interested in things. Even sometimes for not being interested in other things, like sports, or clubs, or parties. He was beaten down and ignored...and whenever he'd lose his temper or try to fight back, he'd get in trouble for it. Soon the only thing anyone ever saw of Jacob was his misbehavior -- our dad, included."

Duncan stared at Carewyn's reflection in the glass. Her face looked almost heartbroken, thinking this -- as if just recounting what her brother went through physically injured her.

"Jacob tried really hard to be better after I came along, and especially after Dad left us," she said softly. "He had to help Mum look after me...so he worked really hard, for a really long time. He dropped out of school, gave up a lot of dreams...all to try to make sure we had a roof over our heads. And eventually...all anyone ever saw of Jacob was that he was useful. That he could do things they could use for their business -- that he could fix things, or cook things, or file things, and do it all perfectly. They weren't looking for him to talk, or explain, or share, or teach, or think -- they just wanted him to do."

Duncan found his own eyes drifting through the window now, barely seeing either Carewyn's or his reflections now. In his mind's eye, he could see Jacob fixing the trolley door through another window, on another trolley -- see the muscles in his arm flexing -- seeing him smile so brightly --

"Your brother likes being useful," Duncan said softly.

"Of course he does," said Carewyn. "He always has. But that doesn't mean that's all he is."

She turned to smile at Duncan. "That's why I'm grateful you brought him to court. I know Jacob feels useful to you, but not just because of what he can do. You value his ideas -- his hopes and dreams. His drive to challenge the status quo...to shake things up and do real good for people. His passion and his aspirations for a better future. His brain and his heart."

Her blue eyes sparkled as her smile softened.

"Jacob's happy there, with you," she murmured. "Happier than he ever was at those other jobs. He wasn't unhappy, exactly -- those bosses did appreciate what he gave them, and those jobs did help him support us...but, well..."

Her eyes fell down to her hands in her lap.

"...They only wanted one small piece of Jacob. You...want all of him."

Duncan felt his face darkening with a redder flush. He quickly looked away, trying to hide it by covering his mouth, cheek, and chin with his whole hand.

"Well...um..."

Duncan felt very flustered, and he really didn't like it. He shot a look at Carewyn -- fortunately she too still had her eyes averted to her hands in her lap.

He swallowed, trying to recollect himself. When he finally did, his voice came out a bit strained.

"...I...I do want Jacob here," he said lowly. "He's...very special."

To me.

Refusing to let those words leak out, Duncan forced himself to get back to business.

"...He...said that you sent those packages to cheer him up."

Carewyn smiled a bit uncomfortably, her eyes drifting back out the window.

"...Yeah...Jacob's been pretty upset that I took a job too, around my schooling. He said he didn't want me to have to work -- that he'd work twice as hard, so I wouldn't have to...but I can't do that to him. Jacob and Mum have provided for me my whole life...it's my turn to help them, now."

Duncan's eyes betrayed concern. "Is it still so difficult for you? I thought with Jacob's higher salary -- "

"We're not struggling," Carewyn said earnestly. "But well, Jacob and I have still had to share a room my entire life. Jacob needs space. We both do. He needs an office -- a place where he can work on projects outside of work. I need a real closet where I can organize my clothes properly, so I don't have Jacob pairing my socks with his by accident."

She actually pursed her lips a bit, giving off something of a haughty expression. It made Duncan bite back a snort of laughter.

"Jacob's good at earning money and doing without on things, but not budgeting."

"And there is a big difference," said Duncan.

Carewyn nodded. "So Mum and I have been looking at the long-term...and what's holding us back from buying a bigger place is saving up enough for me to afford books and tuition. Jacob wants to just stay where we are and pay for me to go to university...but I don't want that for him. I don't want him to have to do without anymore, when I can help him now. And I wish he wouldn't work so much overtime to try to persuade me otherwise!"

This came out a bit frustrated, despite Carewyn's seemingly best efforts. She looked almost guilty, expressing such emotion in front of Duncan.

"...I'm sorry," she said lowly. "I...know you're Jacob's friend, so I thought I should explain."

"You don't need to apologize," Duncan said at once.

Carewyn still looked a bit uncomfortable.

"Please don't tell Jacob I told you all this," she said quietly. "I know Jacob esteems you...he wouldn't want you to see him as unable to do something."

Something stirred in Duncan's memory.

"I can do it by myself!"

"It's fine, Ashe. I've got it under control. I do."

Then that was it. Jacob hadn't just been lying to Duncan -- he'd been too proud to even accept things as they were himself...too proud to acknowledge he couldn't carry the world all by himself...

Duncan's brows and lips both knit together tightly.

"What I see him as is a complete idiot," he said dryly.

The Jack pulled down on the trolley string to make it stop outside the Palace of Spades. As he got up, Duncan extended a hand to Carewyn as if to help her up.

"Now, then -- Jacob's lab is on the far end, so we'll have to walk briskly, if we're going to deliver your care package to him. I'll need to drive you back in my personal car afterward, if you're going to have any decent time to eat before returning to work..."

Carewyn flushed. "That's all right -- I don't need anyth -- "

"Let me guess -- you've been skipping out on meals, just to bring these packages to your brother on your breaks," Duncan cut her off.

Carewyn shot him a glare through her blush. "There's always something to eat quickly at home -- I can more than manage until then..."

Duncan brought a hand up to his face and shook his head.

"Well, now I see sacrificing for your loved ones is something of a family trait, for you Cromwells. Ugh -- come on, then -- we're picking up your brother, dropping off his chocolates in the lab, and then driving somewhere for a proper meal. Shut your mouth right now and don't bother taking out any money, I won't hear any arguments from you or your brother about it."

x~x~x~x

Despite the sourness he'd spoken with, Duncan still kept his eye trained behind him to make sure Carewyn was keeping up with his longer strides, as he strolled quickly down the hall. And when Jacob looked up to find Carewyn in his lab and practically leapt out of his seat, throwing his arms around her and squeezing her tight as he beamed so happily over her shoulder at Duncan, the Jack of Spades couldn't have possibly obscured the soft, contented rosiness of his face as he watched them.

Jacob did in fact try to argue with Duncan about paying for their supper in full -- and Duncan scolded him just as much as he had Carewyn.

"Don't argue with me, I'm your boss. And no more of these little package deliveries, to cheer you up -- the next time Carewyn wants to bring you something, I intend for her to bring it to you when she's off from work and school, on formal visits..."

Jacob's eyes widened.

"Formal visits?" he repeated, disbelieving. "You mean...Wyn can come see me here, at the Palace?"

Carewyn looked just as stunned herself. "Duncan, you -- you don't have to do that -- "

"I know I don't," Duncan said, averting his eyes uncomfortably, "but I'm doing it. I give my permission -- Carewyn can come whenever she wants."

Jacob and Carewyn both stared. It made Duncan's flush creep up his neck all the more.

"Just as long as you don't get distracted, Jacob," Duncan added, his voice becoming a bit more strained in its defensiveness. "After all, you'll still be at work and earning pay -- it's just easier than making Carewyn use up her break times. And Carewyn seems responsible enough that she won't keep you from your work. Plus it'll quiet a lot of the unnecessary gossip around court about you having a sweetheart sending you packages..."

Jacob's mouth fell open. "What? Oh, come on, Ashe, I told you it wasn't like that -- !"

But Carewyn disregarded this completely. Instead she got up and, opening her arms, gave Duncan a hug.

The gesture made Duncan stiffen, taken aback, and she immediately withdrew, looking a bit guilty.

"I'm sorry," she said quickly, even though she couldn't keep the smile off her face. "It's just...thank you, Duncan. I've never been inside the Palace before, aside from the mail room, and seeing where Jacob's working..."

Her eyes sparkled like gems.

"... Your invitation...it's very generous," she whispered. "Thank you."

Duncan hadn't thought he could go any redder, but somehow he was. Coby would probably be comparing him to a tomato by now.

"Ahem," he cleared his throat awkwardly as he looked away. "...You're welcome."

He glanced at Carewyn out the side of his eye, to see her smiling sympathetically. Maybe she sensed his discomfort -- or maybe, being far more insightful about people than Jacob, she sensed what really fueled it: that stifled, hidden desire to make her brother happy.

Either way, Duncan found himself smiling a bit too, as he looked back at her.

Maybe Carewyn wasn't Jacob's sweetheart...but she did have a very sweet heart, all the same.

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liveontelevision · 29 days

Text

Demon Barber | Lucifer X Reader

IT'S DONNNEEEE

FuCk i slaved away on this one but y'all wanted a novel, so here she is!

Content Warning: Smutsmutsmutsmut +18, a little bit of angst and fluff, and Lucifer and Reader being kind of shitty people

☆☆☆

Everybody knew how much of an icon Queen Lillith was. She immediately blew up any form of media when she started uplifting demonkind. As time went on and more sinners were sent to Hell, a ripple effect of styles and trends rang throughout the city. It was important to Lillith to stay up to date with them. She hated to admit it, but she couldn’t keep up. She decided to take the opportunity to bring a new face to her team. At that point, the Morningstar family had already hired a handful of imps to keep little things in line, but this was a position that needed the point of view of a sinner on the streets.

Lucky you, you were one of the first sinners to work personally with the most powerful couple in Hell! You weren't that different from anyone else, but you are a chronic people watcher. It was an important hobby that helped you keep up with what everyone was decorating themselves with. A perfect pair of eyes for adorning the most beautiful creatures in the realm in a modern fashion. You started your glamorous job a couple of thousands of years before the Hotel was built. Even with your immense age, you did a surprisingly good job at keeping an open mind and becoming knowledgeable in most cosmetic and costuming work. You managed to make it through every extermination and more in this career. The protection from being housed with royalty definitely had its benefits.

On your first day, you went through Lillith's already existing wardrobe, in awe at the quality and unique aesthetics that she had. Even with your praises on her gowns, she insisted she needed your knowledge of street style incorporated into her wardrobe. You definitely fit into the Pride ring of hell at that point. The queen of Hell needs your personal opinion on what she wears? That went straight to your head. You became the head of a team and were credited with dressing up Lillith in some of her most iconic outfits. It didn't exactly bring you any fame, you weren't advertised or really credited in any other form than writing. Sometimes, if Lillith was put in an outfit she really enjoyed and her makeup and hair lasted through an entire performance, she'd give a little shout-out. You didn't really mind, you loved doing what you did, and the sweet praises Lillith gave you sufficed your need for validation. It felt amazing to see her face plastered all over Pentagram City, and being able to say hey, I did that. The salary helped, too.

As time went on, you noticed how little Lucifer made public appearances. When he did they were exclusively with Lillith at his side. And of course, he looked.. He was definitely a handsome ruler, but he didn’t have a lot of variety in his wardrobe. And it wasn't exactly up to your or Lillith's standards. She would often suggest taking some styling tips from you, almost begging at times, but he would refuse every time. You did little things, steaming and restitching his wardrobe, doing some touch-up makeup for shoots, but his suit? It stayed the same almost every day.

One day, Lucifer suddenly had a change of heart. He looked disheartened but begrudgingly agreed to be dolled up for a shoot that was happening soon. You were almost as ecstatic as Lillith was, getting this chance.

"I want you to give it your all, dear. Maybe I can convince him to do some more in the future if all goes well..." She'd tell you in a hushed tone, the two of you standing in front of the double doors that led to your studio." Do what you do best!" She said cheerfully, her hand on the small of your back. She practically throws you into the room once it's open, leaving you alone with Lucifer. There was no music, none of your other artists had shown up yet, and the only thing you could hear was your breath shaking. You breathed in heavily, then put on your best customer service face as you exhaled. You played professionally at the beginning, but it's always easier having some personality and small talk when you're planning on being in close proximity to clients for so long.

"Your Majesty! I hope you're doing well today, I'm glad you decided to join us this time!" You spoke in your people-pleaser voice, trying to hide the nerves that suddenly washed over your body. "Why the change of heart?" You started questioning, in a desperate attempt to find some sense of small talk with the intimidating figure seated in front of you. As you spoke, you stepped in front of the vanity he was seated at, having to stretch by his crossed legs to lay out your supplies. "I'm doing fantastic. Obviously." He spoke in an aggravated tone. You sucked in your lips, unsure if you should laugh. Luckily he didn't need a response before answering your other question. "You've seen Lily, she can be quite convincing." He puffed out his chest in his seated position, insinuating something vulgar. Your eye twitched, trying your best to not let them roll.

That didn't stop your face from heating up, the image suddenly materializing in your head. You cleared your throat, turning your attention back to the array of makeup brushes and some colored powders you had picked out specifically for this shoot." She is a beauty, I agree." You felt the need to respond in some way before getting to work.

You loved doing your job. No matter who you worked on, you'd always focus on your technique before anything else, which helped calm you down while you delicately held Lucifer's jaw, twisting his head around to get a general idea of what you were working with. You examined a solid purple bruise that decorated his neck before he had the chance to stop you. "Oh! I just - ran into a doorknob. Yeeah.. I.. tripped." He rambled a pathetic excuse, learning away from your touch." Sure, let's go with that." You replied, finally rolling your eyes at his words. "But you said it yourself, the Queen is indeed quite convincing." You teased, twisting around and grabbing a brush. When you went to move behind his chair to start running a comb through his impossibly soft golden hair, you caught how red he had turned at your remark." Oh, it's okay, I'm just teasing. You know how long I've worked on Lillith, I've had to cover way worse." You added, genuinely thinking that would help calm him down. He let out a quiet groan of embarrassment, smacking his hand against his face.

It went silent for a while as you worked on his hair. You saw how it usually was put up, and you didn’t want to scare him with too drastic of a change, so you only added some subtle layers that left it a bit fluffier than normal. You’d stop every now and then, placing your hands on his shoulders and looking at your work in the mirror. He'd flinch at your touch each time, leaving you concerned at first, then just giving him a suck it up attitude for the rest of your session. You went on to do something that didn't need your full attention and looked over his shoulder to get a peek at his phone screen that he used as a buffer for the awkward silence. It displayed a little calendar, he swiped through each day mindlessly. "Looks like you have a packed schedule, huh? How's that been going?" He looked up and pulled his phone into his lap, a squint across his face. "It's fine, I'm handling it. It's my job after all, ya know. Important things." He didn't seem to want to get into too much detail, so you let out a nervous chuckle and agreed before immediately finding some music to play to cover your mistake. You were convinced he would fire you at that point. Or worse.

As you finished up, you viewed him from multiple angles, twisting him around in the chair. You leaned down a bit, your eyes at his level then reached both your hands out and took the pieces of hair that framed his face, curling them up a bit at his cheeks. You stepped back again and placed your hands on your hips, letting out a satisfied hum.

He definitely calmed down by the time his hair was done, leaving behind the crude jokes and little rude quips from before. Now onto the makeup. This was far more intimate, so you gave him a quick rundown as you rummaged through your things." Alright, you definitely don't need any makeup, since your skin is perfect, but there's a chance the cameras and the lighting could wash you out, so I'll just use a blurring effect with this pow - " you stopped talking when you saw his confusion." I'm.. I'm gonna doll you up. Basically.." You summarized it bluntly. It was clear to you how uncomfortable he was with being touched excessively, you did your best to accommodate. You applied some translucent powders to his skin, then brightened up the cute little red circles on his face, after mentally kicking yourself for thinking of them as cute. This is the king of Hell, knock it off. You cleaned up the heavy bags under his eyes, then noticed a tired purple hue to his eyelids. Going in with a lilac color, you emphasized them.

As you were gathering some other things, stepping back a bit, he turned his head to look at his appearance in the mirror. He was expecting some ridiculous and dramatic work, but he really just looked brighter. More alert, more alive. He shut one of his eyes to see the color you had added to his lids, "I.. like that.." He spoke quietly and sounded surprised as if he didn't want to admit that to you. You let out a little chuckle, the compliment completely going to your head, before passively scolding him for touching his face before you had finished. He let his hands fall back into his lap with a pout on his face. Adding any color to his eyes or lips required precision, so you were lifting up his face by his chin to do what you do best. You were honestly a little surprised about how well he handled the rest of the session. For someone who's refused any sort of cosmetics for literal centuries, he looked like he was enjoying the pampering.

You had only worked on Lillith before, and even if she was intimidatingly gorgeous, you adapted to being physically close to her. Going into a sort of auto-pilot mode, you held your breath, tracing out his best features. Pulling away to check on his full appearance again, you noticed that he seemed to be holding his breath as well. He finally let it out once you stepped away, his face already a little flushed. You didn't think too much about it, you were mainly annoyed that the composition of the makeup was being thrown off by this sudden blush.

"Well! Once wardrobe comes in, you'll be taken down to set. What do you think?" You stood behind his chair and spun him back around to face the mirror. He leaned in, making sure not to touch his face since you scolded him before. He moved his head around, even admiring the coverage of the hickey that Lillith so generously gifted him." Hm! I suppose this works. As long as Lillith likes it, that is." His voice wasn’t enthusiastic, but you recognized the satisfaction plastered across his face. He looked up to meet your eyes in the reflection of the mirror. "She's right, you are good at what you do, I'll give you that." You gave a little nod and began to pack up your things. "I'm glad it's acceptable, your highness." You pulled up some finger quotes as you spoke the word acceptable. "You were really nice to work on actually, your hair looks great and your face is already near perfection, so I didn't need to do much. Plus, you sat very well." You spoke nonchalantly, compliments like that coming as second nature in this field.

You turned once more and bowed your head a bit before sending a smile his way. His eyes were wide, and it looked like he was struggling to stiffen a grin. He cleared his throat, covering his mouth with his fist and looking to the side. "G-Good.. Glad you enjoyed the.. Uh - Enjoyed it.." His voice muffled behind his hand. You didn't overthink his nervous reaction since you were in a hurry to get Lillith ready next. "Oh, for sure! I hope I see you around more often! I'm sure the shoot will be great." You chimed in, finally dipping out of the room as a crowd of imps barged in, finishing up his look.

The rest of the day was spent getting Lillith ready for the shoot, which took considerably longer than Lucifer's preparations. The whole time you chatted with her about how Lucifer did, calling her out on the damned bruise that you had to cover up, and general catch-up that had become routine at this point. Once everything was up and moving, you floated around the set fixing up some small details on both Lillith and Lucifer's look when needed. And of course, the shots they got were fantastic. You couldn't stop yourself from admiring your work once the posters and advertisements were distributed.

That was the first time you worked with Lucifer. Not much changed after, you became a little more popular around the staff; getting complimented on how you dressed him and answered some silly questions about what he was like. You did see him around more often, and you’d make small talk. After a few weeks, while working on Lillith, she brought up another shoot that was proposed for a big event coming up. "And get this! Lucifer asked me to put him in the shoot!" She was absolutely giddy to tell you the news. "Well, of course, he wants to be in the shoot, it's because I prettied him up so well!" You bragged in a joking tone, making Lillith let out a sultry chuckle. She placed her hand over yours, a sincere smile across her already-painted lips. "Thank you, dear. He needs the pampering sometimes." You blushed at the sudden contact and grinned in response.

---

Lucifer did in fact join that shoot. The process was about the same, but he seemed to engage in conversation more and asked more questions about what you were doing at each step. It warmed your heart to talk about your passions, you were unknowingly gushing about your interests every time he asked.

As the years went on, he joined more and more shoots, accompanied Lillith to more public appearances, and generally just wanted your opinions on his looks more often. It didn't take long for you two to become close. He'd ask for help on outfits, sometimes becoming a nervous wreck about what to wear on dates. With his wife. It was adorable the way he worried about how he looked after being with Lillith for so long and essentially running a new world together. He seemed to really enjoy having his hair and makeup done, occasionally making a fuss if you weren't the one to do it. You would scold him, talking about how he's wasting your time, and that you trained each of your stylists, so he has to trust them. He pouted the whole time.

Being around the power couple of the century unfortunately had its flaws. Like having to witness its downfall. Both of them became quieter a decade or two before Lillith's disappearance. Any time you'd try and tell a funny story about Lucifer to Lillith, she would change the topic almost immediately. On the opposite end, Lucifer wasn't supplying you with the same amount of jokes and puns as usual and reverted back to flinching at your touch. You couldn't ask about what was going on, that'd be rude.. Right?

"You know, Lillith was just talking about some sort of Gala for the Sins, are you going with her?" You had some hidden intentions by bringing this up while you were fixing Lucifer up for his day. "A Gala, huh? Haven't heard anything about that, so - I guess not!" He blurted out, clearly irritated. Shit. " Are.. Are you okay? Is something going on?" You leaned against the back of the vanity, stopping what you were doing to give him your full attention." Well, if you want to talk about it, that is.. Aaand as long as I won't get in trouble by asking." You shrugged and crossed your arms over your chest. That happened once or twice, but it was for little things; spoiling an anniversary gift one time, or accidentally getting an imp fired when you were venting about workplace struggles. "Yeah, of course it's okay! We're fine. It's fine. I'm fine! Stop asking so many questions!" He got increasingly aggressive as he spoke, you threw your hands up, stepping away and returning to the back of his chair. "Okay, okay! I believe you, jeez!" You responded to it as a joke, hoping you could recover.

You didn't talk about it after that, lifting his mood a bit by asking about his projects and other little things. As you finished up his hair, you noticed him closing his eyes and leaning his head into your hands as you ran your fingers through his hair to coat it with some kind of styling product. He'd fallen asleep in the past, so you didn't worry about it too much. You went on to work on his makeup. He asked you recently if you wouldn’t mind coming up with a more subtle everyday look for him. Apparently he just really liked your work. Or, he needed the pampering. Either way, you couldn't refuse.

He was loving the treatment today. He would hum every time you used your thumb to brush a speck off his cheek, and would start leaning forward when you stopped touching him. You pushed him back by his chest mindlessly, just needing him to sit back in his chair.

You then started to apply makeup to his eyes. Covering the bags underneath them became increasingly difficult throughout the years. You pulled him in like usual, your hand lightly leading his head up towards your face. When you paused at some point to evaluate whatever you were doing, he suddenly opened his eyes, his gaze meeting yours, then flashing a quick peak at your bust that had been accentuated by your stance. He leaned back, a nervous look on his face.

"Um, hello?? I was kind of in the middle of something! That’s it. Tell me what’s wrong." You scoffed, confusion and irritation plastered across your face. He quickly dismissed it, letting you work again. He could feel your shallow breathing fan across his face as you went on. His breath was picking up, heart rate elevating as you kept this proximity. The leather on the armrests of his chair squeaked as he gripped his claws into the fabric.

After a while, you silently leaned back, only now noticing him falling apart. He leaned in slightly, dropping his jaw to let out a shaky breath. He would've hit your face if you hadn't stepped away. Possibly even met your lips.

"Uh – Your higness..?" You were oblivious, so you decided to question this behavior. He popped his eyes open and immediately leaned back into his chair." A-Are you done yet?" He squeaked out, examining the damage he had done to your chair with a nervous chuckle. "I'll uh.. I'll get you a new chair." He muttered, before looking into the mirror for just a moment. "Looks good to me! Excellent job as usual, my dear, I better get going, I have a meeting to get to so – " You watched in silent confusion, seeing him squirming and screwing up his words. He quickly stood up, not assessing how close he would be to you and how close your back was to the vanity. You stumbled backward, placing your hands on the vanity to keep yourself from falling any farther, and acting as a buffer between the counter and Lucifer. He tripped over your stumbling feet, his flailing arms landing beside yours. You were effectively trapped, his knee had bent between your legs while trying to find his balance.

A moment of silence. All you heard was the beating of your heart ringing in your ears. He looked down at you in a way that clouded your judgment. Neither of you said anything, but you fluttered your eyes shut subconsciously. He did the same, then cocked his head to the side and slowly lean into your face. He roped his arm around your waist, pulling you forward a bit, but not quite flush to his chest. Yet. You felt his shaky breath fanning over your lips, before snapping back into reality. "No! Nope - " You quickly broke free of his arms and began cleaning up your things, avoiding his gaze as it followed you frantically getting your things together. "You have a meeting, right? I just finished up, so you should be all good now! I'll just – I-I'll see you around! Have a good day, sir!" You quickly left the room, not letting him get a single word in. He reached out to you as you left as if that would suddenly draw you back towards him, but of course, it did nothing. "Well, shit." He let out bluntly, waiting for a moment in your own studio before b-lining it back to his office.

What the fuck was that?

You avoided Lucifer after the incident, and he seemed to respect that. He let one of your stylists do his daily pampering, knowing that stopping that routine would cause too much suspicion. He didn't enjoy it as much, but stopping altogether would make Lillith ask about it. Fuck. Lillith. A flood of emotions wash over you. In reality, you were closer to Lillith than her husband. You two gossiped and chatted on the daily. It was a struggle to face her after this, but what choice did you have?

She was completely silent during her last few sessions, so you drowned out your guilty thoughts with music. She disappeared a few years after that. You absolutely panicked. So did many of the staff members, but your sole concern was if it was your fault. You were quick to find Lucifer after the announcement was made, only to see him in your studio, running his hands across the rack of gowns that Lillith had left. "Lucifer. What happened? Where did she go? What did she say?" You rambled approaching him, but being careful not to get too close. "She didn't say anything. She left a half-assed note, and she's just.. Gone." He pulled a dress into his arms and gripped it tightly before letting it drop to the floor. He let out a vicious roar, throwing the rack to the side." How could she do this?! What about the kingdom? What about Charlie? Dammit.. What did I do?? We slept next to each other that night.. The same night she left… I-I could’ve stopped her, I should've - She just disappeared..!" He rambled on, quickly unraveling in front of you. You watched his tail and horns start to form, and you hesitantly gripped his shoulder. He finally stopped, taking a deep breath before turning to face you. He hadn't looked into your eyes since..

His horns shrunk back into his temples before he let his head fall onto your shoulder. You almost stepped away, but.. He needed this. And you needed answers. "Sir.. Was it because.. Did she leave because of me..?" You spoke softly, your breath a cool sensation against his heated skin. He quickly shot up, planting his hands on your shoulders and looking at you with a stern expression. "No! No, I promise it wasn't your fault. Fuck, none of that was your fault. She.. I-I'm not sure why she left, but that's not your burden to bear." He spoke calmly, a stark contrast to the raging mess he just displayed moments ago.

You two stood there for a while, his hands drifted down to hold your arms. What was he supposed to do now? He looked around the room for some kind of answer. Before he could realize what was happening, he was pulled into a tight embrace, his head just barely reaching the top of your shoulder. "It's gonna be okay.. I’ll be here, Lucifer. No matter what." It felt.. weird for a moment. This was the first time you'd gotten close to him this way. And actually, the first time you'd said his name without any sort of title. He let out another exhausted sigh, his hands snaking around your back and accepting the much-needed affection. As his head pressed against your collarbone, you stood there until he decided he’d had enough. You were there for a while.

It wasn't Lucifer's fault, but after that, you didn’t work much. There really wasn't a lot to do, without someone pushing public appearances and emphasizing the importance of image, you generally just mended and fixed up the staff's uniforms and Lucifer’s wardrobe. You were technically a stylist, but you've been doing this long enough that you could handle these jobs entirely by yourself. Actually, you did handle the job by yourself. Lucifer fired or sent most of the previously employed stylists away, along with most of the staff. About five years into Lillith's disappearance, the place had widdled down to a handful of workers. Some in the kitchen, basic housekeeping, a noisy secretary to answer some calls, and you. You started to question why he kept you around. You hated to admit that you still blamed yourself for Lillith leaving, but why else would she suddenly disappear? She was cold to you as soon as you kissed – almost kissed – Lucifer that day. You tried your hardest to avoid that thought process since you stuck around the mansion.

You were surprised to find out that Lucifer accepted an invitation to be on the cover of a magazine for Helluva Times. He hadn't needed makeup or hair done since Lillith left, and in reality, you barely saw him around. You were ashamed about how excited you were to see him again. Of course, it won't be the same as before, but you were looking forward to it nonetheless. You were taken to the studio where the shoot was being held since the one in the mansion was turned into more of a workspace for mending clothing. The studio was brightly lit and bustled with imps and some stylish sinners doing their part. You wondered if It was always like this, or if it was just because of Lucifer. You approached the vanity, the king of Hell seated in a movie set chair, with a golden star on the back, his name embroidered to the center. You were stopped in your tracks when you saw the dark circles that surrounded his eyes. Jesus, he was exhausted. You weren’t exactly surprised, more like distressed. Now that you think about it, Lillith really did a lot of heavy lifting when it came to keeping Hell in line.

"Your Highness." You gave him a little smile and nodded your head, beginning to display your usual setup on the vanity in front of him. "Heyyy! You..! Good to see you, Ahha.. ha.. h-how've you been..? How's... work been..?" He put on a fake smile and propped his head on his hand in a sad attempt to act casual. He switched to crossing his arms, unable to sit still and make eye contact with you at the same time. You didn't know how to react. The last time he was this nervous, he ended up pinning you to a table with his arms around you. You quickly got to work, trying to get the image of that day out of your head.

You go to comb his hair, recognizing that it's been a while since he let anyone tend to it; it was nearly grown to the bottom of his neck and wasn't exactly the cleanest. "Do you have wrinkle-free, clean, clothes every day?" You asked in response to his nervous ramblings from earlier. He nodded slowly," Then work is fine." You picked up on the sudden attitude you had, and it even surprised you. He quickly shut his mouth and started to spin the wedding band on his finger as a nervous fidget.

You had to put some effort in since he wasn't getting the same attention he used to. You gave his golden locks some much-needed attention, running a number of products through them and taking the time to restore it to its usual length. You found yourself peaking at his face every now and then, which he didn't notice. He was too indulgent to even keep his eyes open. You tried to stop yourself from looking at his relaxed expression, but you found yourself turning away only when he opened his eyes. You checked the clock, you definitely had some time for a more thorough session. You dug your fingers just a bit deeper into his hair, lightly running your nails across his scalp. In several swirling motions, you had him melting in your hands. You had to stop every now and then and push his head back up after it lulled to the side. It usually kept him alert for a moment, but it never lasted long. He let out a subtle hum every now and then, making you bite your lip in some attempt to keep whatever you were feeling at bay.

After you finished your little massage, you quickly finished up his hair, giving him a very-needed trim and styling it to its usual glory. You instinctively placed your hands on his shoulders once you finished and leaned in a bit to look at the results.

"So? What do you think? You needed a haircut, sir, you should… keep in touch.. If you need me, I'm here." A grin grew on your face and he couldn’t help but sigh at the sight of your smiling face. He turned his head to the left and the right, reaching up to touch his face delicately. He was less worried about messing it up and more worried about you scolding him for it. He let out a little huff and he opened his mouth, with no words coming out. It took him a moment." It's great, but uhh.. Could you do the – " He spun his fingers around his cheeks," you know, the.. Little loopy.. Bits..?"

God, what a cutie.

You let out a little chuckle and nodded, turning his chair to face you." My bad, how could I forget the loopy bits?" You teased, reaching out to either side of his head. Your hands lulled over his cheeks for some reason you wouldn’t explain. Finally, you untucked the bits of hair from behind his ears, pulling them forward and twirling them with your fingers. You placed your hands on your hips, still bent to be at his eye level.

"There. Ready for makeup, Lucifer?" Your words didn't come naturally, it took you a few seconds to debate whether or not to call him by his name. With his voice cracking in an attempt to respond, he just nodded, attempting to keep some dignity intact. You did your best to act professional, despite his lovely reactions. You started as you usually did, applying an easy base and highlighting his rosy cheeks. You never needed to do much to his face, and even after all this time, you still didn’t need to. Must be his angelic abilities, that his skin never really changes. You shrugged off the thought, getting ready to focus on his eyes. Instead of keeping his chin up, you took a light hold of his jaw, your fingers grazing his neck and your thumb placed dangerously close to the side of his lips. You both reacted to this new method, but you quickly went to work to prevent any more eye contact.

You took your time and it was clear neither of you cared to bring it up. He was past his call time, but when some poor stylist working for the news team came in to get him, Lucifer used his threatening status to give you both more time. After you finished covering the dark rings surrounding his eyes and prettying them up a bit, you mirrored your other hand and essentially cupped his cheeks. You did your best to make it look like it was for work purposes, but damn you were enjoying this. Such a beautiful creature in the palm of your hands, looking away because he was too embarrassed to meet your eyes." Look forward, please?" You spoke softly, lightly tapping his cheek to get him to follow your commands. He let out a huff, then finally prepared himself to look into your eyes. The noisy workers coming in and out of the room suddenly disappeared, the room going silent. He had your complete focus, and suddenly there was nothing more important than gazing into his red eyes. His hand moved to your wrist, holding one of your hands in place while he pressed his cheek against your palm. What a sight. You leaned in, not knowing what would happen, but also not really caring. Any chance to get close to –

"Alright your Highness, we're gonna need you on set in five." The harsh sounds of the room suddenly returned, a Hellhound making a more stern request to get this shoot over with. You quickly stood straight, taking up a brush and fixing up the small smudges you had created by holding him. "Rrright! Yup, pretty sure we're almost done, sooo... I'll be right there..! Thanks." He clenched his pointed teeth, as he thanked the brute, who walked off with a scoff. "Good golly – I'm their king! What gives that mutt the right to – " He stopped his rambling once he saw your sheer embarrassment. He took it as a sign that he went too far, that just maybe, he read you wrong.

He turned his head, looking back to his reflection and tracing his little curls with his fingers before letting out a satisfied hum. "Great work as always, my dear." He stood from the chair, stretching his stiff legs with a groan." I should uhm – I'm gonna get going, I have to.. Do the.. Thing – with the thing.." He walked backward towards the exit, pointing over his shoulder. "You mean go to set and get the shots? Hope everything goes okay, sir." You chuckled, going back to cleaning some things up. "Okay, well – oh! Thank you! Right, forgot that part. So, thanks..!" He just kept talking. Like he might never see you again once he left the room. "My pleasure, Lucifer." You hummed, still attending to your tasks. Oh, you should’ve seen the winded look on his face. He let out a wheezing chuckle, tripped over himself, then finally left the studio.

Once all your things were neatly tucked away, you were invited to the shoot. They had an extensive team of people behind the scenes, so you got the chance to just observe the process. They had him run through a number of poses, some regal, some more.. Provocative. Just for fun, they said. It made you cringe, it definitely wasn't his style. Finally deciding on a composition, he had his arms crossed over his chest, and he rested his thumb just below his chin, drawing your eye to his devilish smirk. How could someone who's been hurt as badly as he has, smile for the cover of a magazine?

You made some mental notes on his makeup and his hair, which they squished down with a comically oversized tophat. Trying to keep your mind purely professional became increasingly difficult when he kept looking over at you, his smile twitching every time. He must be tired. That’s clearly why he's acting this way.

"All right, we got it! Wrap it up, people!" An aggressive shout took you away from your phone screen, and you looked around at the rush of workers. You tried to catch anyone's attention to see if you could help with anything, but you never got anyone's attention. It was definitely a change of pace from your past experience, considering you were the lead on a team that really only dressed two people, even if they were royalty. By the time you got back to the studio, it was basically cleaned out, other than your little cart with all the supplies you brought from home. You assumed you were good to go straight home and find something to do other than feeling up the king of Hell; speak of the devil!

"Oh! I.. didn't know you were still here, I thought you left..?" A soft, and mildly raspy, voice came from the door, making you catch Lucifer's eyes in the reflection of the vanity you stood in front of. "No, I was enjoying the show." You leaned against the tabletop after turning to face him, a little smirk on your face. "You did good, by the way. The shots came out really well." You pulled up some of the shots that the company sent to your phone. "These are some very handsome photos.. You're welcome, by the way." You were gloating. He had walked forward to get a better look at your phone screen, squinting his eyes like he needed glasses, despite it being impossible for him to have poor vision. He scoffed at your comment, crossing his arms over his chest. "Well don't let it go straight to your head, dear, you didn't do all the work. I'm just naturally gorgeous, right? You used to say that all the time." He nodded his head to either side as he spoke like he was winning some argument.

"Well, I meant it and it's still true. So, don't let that get to your head." You responded like you were trying to one-up him. He immediately turned red. He can shoot his shots, but deflates at any quick or clever rebuttals." W-Well! I'll try not to.. T-thanks for being here. Not like, here, but like – helping with the shoot, and doing meee – my hair! Love my hair, came out great." Good job, Lucifer. You startled him by running your hands through his locks, attempting to fix up the mess they made by putting a heavy hat on him." Ugh, they ruined it.. It should be an easy fix, I guess... that stupid hat." You grumbled, running your hands along the sides of his head to smooth it out. He was biting his lip when you sent him a quick look." I-I like the hat..." He said weakly. You couldn’t help but let out a little laugh, beginning to pull your hands away. Clawed hands took hold of your wrists, keeping them hovered on either side of his face. "You said... that you'd be there for me no matter what. Do you remember that..?" He relaxed his face, but his hands were shaking just a bit. You nodded slowly.” Well, I’m - I appreciate that.. And you.. I-I appreciate you..”

“If you still.. I don't know, it's been a few years since – but if you still wanted to.. Ugh, dammit..! I don't know how to – " He stuttered over his words, becoming visibly upset, something stopping him from speaking coherently. You couldn't assume he was talking about the little incident from years ago, but if it was still on your mind after all that time, maybe it was still on his. He stepped forward just a bit, his grasp still lightly holding your wrists, keeping him close to you. Waiting for you to respond to a question he never really asked, he gulped, then let out a breathy, fuck it. In one fell swoop, he released your hands and immediately pulled you into a tight embrace. This wasn't like before, this wasn't to console him. His hands were wrapped around your back and cradled the base of your neck, leaving no space between the two of you.

Your entire body tensed, the breath you didn’t realize you were holding in was knocked out of you, and your arms were stuck with your hands pressed against his chest. He loosened his grasp as soon as he held you, but never actually let you go. His head had sunk into your shoulder, trying to hide some kind of adorable expression, you were sure. You had the opportunity to push him away, nothing was truly keeping you there. Physically, at least.

As you stood still, deciding what your next move would be, you'd feel him adjusting his head and turning it to plant his cheek on your collarbone, his breath hot against your chest. You knew he had to feel how hard and fast your heart was beating with how he was nuzzling into you. Focusing on one thing at a time, you tugged your arm out of his hold and lifted his face upwards, at least preventing him from being too close to your rapid heart rate. The next problem was your noses almost touching due to how close you were. His eyes were wide, full of some sort of desperation or fear, and a little bit of excitement. Your fingers still lightly hovered under his chin, and you could feel his pulse. Just as fast as yours, maybe even faster.

You felt him gulp, his face now heating up. Maybe the look in your eyes was too much for him to handle. You looked at the vanity that was just a few feet away. That should make him understand. Taking small steps backwards, which he didn’t understand, but also didn’t question, you kept moving until you felt the table hit your back. You leaned back slowly, forcing him to brace himself against the table to keep his balance. His eyes darted around as it clicked finally. You had put yourself in the same position that you were in years ago. His hands caged you in, and his knee sat between your legs for stability. You remembered it so clearly, you had no trouble bringing the two of you right back to where you left off. You took one of his arms and guided it to support you by the small of your back, then snaked your arms around his shoulders. Then, you closed your eyes and just waited. Just sitting there, anticipation bubbling in your stomach.

Before you knew it, he had softly pressed his lips against yours. You jumped at first, startled by something you were waiting so patiently for. You felt his lips pull away in response, but you were quick to pull his shoulders in, closing the gap again. He let out a little cry against your lips, as you pulled him even closer by wrapping your arms around his neck. He kept one hand at your back and sent the other to your outer thigh, slightly lifting your leg to sit against his hip. With a more secure hold on you, he leaned forward further, until you felt the back of your head hit the mirror with a light thump. "Mmph! Are you okay?" He pulled away for a moment to ask, which only upset you even more. You looked at him as if the answer was obvious, and fisted the collar of his shirt, pulling your lips back together. Clearly, you were fine.

Becoming intoxicated by your lips, he practically begged for a more intimate kiss. He placed a hand on your chin, pulling your mouth ajar with his thumb and quickly entering his tongue in your mouth. The sudden motion left you muttering incoherent praises onto his lips. He pulled away, leaving you in a daze. Once you regained your focus, you were able to reassess your situation. You had slid down the entirety of the vanity, your back fully against the cold material of the counter. One of his hands were propping himself up directly above you, the other still holding your leg, and keeping you from moving away as he pulled you impossibly closer. While letting you catch your breath, he sent a few kisses down your jaw and neck, making you grip his shoulders and hold your breath. He pulled himself away after pressing another quick peck on your lips. "Hey. Breathe. I'll take care of you, don't worry - " How dare he. How could he act so flustered when you did his hair and applied his makeup for literal centuries, then tell you to calm down? You scoffed and smashed your lips back against his, mainly to shut him up, but he wasn’t complaining.

He let out a little yelp against your lips, struggling to keep up with your sudden change of pace. Running your hands through his hair, ruining all the hard work you put into it, you lightly tugged at the hair at the nape of his neck. A shakey sigh met your lips, as you took control of the situation, taking the opportunity to explore his mouth with your own tongue.

After this went on for what felt like forever, which you didn’t really mind, you pulled away to breathe. Looking up to him, your eyes explored the lipstick that messily covered his lips. You tipped his head upward by his chin forcing him to look at himself in the vanity's mirror. He let out a pathetic little wheeze, looking back down at you with a suddenly confident smirk." Beautiful work as always, my dear." He spoke flirtatiously, "You missed a spot, though." Dipping his head back downwards and indulging in your warm presence for as long as he could.

You were clawing at his back, untucking his shirt as you struggled to keep a hold of him. Both your legs had spread, making your hips flush against his. He kept you close, as he nipped and kissed across your collarbone, his sharp teeth grazing your skin without hesitation.

Sucking on the softest part of your neck, you let out a breathy moan and arched your back into his chest. The sudden motion sent friction to his lower half, making him release his teeth and suddenly bolt upwards. The reaction made you nervous, "I-I don't - I haven't.. It's been… Awhile.." He stammered out, putting an emphasis on the word awhile." I know, It's okay." He winced at your nonchalant remark, remembering how often you witnessed his last relationship essentially fall apart, as you went back to kissing his neck. He gently pulled himself away. "Nono, it's been awhile- awhile… I hadn't been close with.. anyone… for a couple.. Decades..?" He spoke nervously like he was embarrassed to admit it. You sat up for a moment, making him question whether or not he should've said anything." But.. It's only been five years, right?" You weren't sure if this was the best time to be getting into this, but these are answers you’ve been wanting for years.

"I don't know what happened, sweetheart, but we lost what we had long before any of this. I'm sorry if you thought.. I can't have you take on that burden.. Okay?" He cupped your face, shifting to a more tender approach. You tried piecing things together in your mind, which was still cloudy from the past few hours. Of course, that still doesn’t make what you two did right. Of course, you blamed yourself after all this time. He pulled you out of your thoughts, by tucking a bit of hair behind your ear and keeping his tender hold on your cheek. You couldn’t help but smile and nuzzle your face into his hand.

"We can stop if you want, love." Oh how you wanted to say stop. To say that you were terrible people for even feeling this way after all this time, while he was with his wife. Who also happened to be your employer. How scandalous. "No, I want this." You said without a hint of hesitation in your voice. It shocked him a bit, but he didn’t have much time to react before you leaned forward, unbuttoning his coat and pushing it off his shoulders. You pulled him in by his collar again, continuing to remove his vest, then opening his shirt, letting it hang open loosely, his white skin just barely peeking out. He shrugged comically, before going back to working on your neck, pulling at the hem of your blouse that had already fallen to your shoulders.

He ran his hands along your curves, eliciting a shiver down your spine. You reached your hands into his open shirt, your warm hands trailing across his even warmer chest. Your physical pleasure was subdued for a moment, absolutely in awe. "You have beautiful skin, Lucifer." Your voice was breathy, he lulled his head to the side, melting at your words and intimate touch. After a moment he let out a sweet chuckle and shrugged his top completely off. "So I've been told." Implying your constant praises from before, he puffed his chest out.

Oh, he was loving this. You sat up, your legs just at the edge of the countertop as you arched your back into him, closing the gap between your hips. You started by pressing a little kiss on his cheek, his face heating up even after all he's done to you. You then, moved your way down to work your lips across his neck and collarbone. Gently tracing his spine with one hand the other traveled downward as you pulled his hips into yours. Messaging his hip and continuously running your fingers along the center of his back, you sent him into sensory overload. You weren't surprised by the sudden bulge you felt hitting your center, in fact, you reveled how that confirmed you were doing a good job. You began sucking and biting on the skin, stopping to let out breathy mewls into his ear. The massaging of his hip turned into you pulling him in, then pushing him away slightly, only to viciously repeat the motion, forcing him to start grinding against you. Your hand on his back continued to trail up and down his spine, only you started to drag your nails across his skin as well, digging in a bit harder whenever you heard his voice hitch. You let your fingers slip into his pants every now and then, the cool sensation of your hands making him let out a little whimper.

"Your skin really is perfect, Lucifer. You are entirely beautiful. You're absolutely stunning, my king." You hummed into his ear, your skilled hands continuing to drive him crazy. He could barely keep up, his head falling back whenever you'd reach up to run your fingers through his hair. "K-Kiss me.." You heard him almost whisper, making you pull back for a moment to assess his stature. He had his hands on your hips, to keep you close, but also to keep him standing on his swaying feet. "I-I need you to.. kiss me.. Please.." He spoke in choppy sentences, he was too lost in his own pleasure to keep his head up, so you kept it forward by cradling the back of his head. When his head would start to droop too far forward, you gave his hair a light tug to remind him where he was. Did he need permission? You enjoyed the 180 he had made from the flirtatious tease just moments ago, humming in thought and tapping your chin like you were still deciding. Like you were considering not kissing him as passionately as he could handle.

He was lightly grinding his hard-on into you but still seemed patient enough to wait for your answer. "Well.. Since you said please." You finally said after far too long. He let out a sigh of relief as you inched towards him. You left your lips just over his, only letting him feel your heated breath against his lips. He shifted his stance but never moved towards you. You brushed your lips against his, not locking them together, just barely grazing them. He let out an impatient groan, his eyes clenched shut as you teased him so cruelly. Who knew this is what would bring tears to his eyes? You ran your hands up his chest, then dug your nails into him as you went back down. You finally met his lips, deciding he had enough after you wiped away a tear from his watering eyes. You don't know how he still managed to keep the kiss so tender after acting so desperate beforehand. You continuously wiped the tears off his face, keeping your hands on his face and caressing his cheeks with your thumbs. As you pulled away, he followed your lips, disappointed in the sudden disconnect. He took the silence and the look on your face as a sign, that he needs to tell you what he wants.

He dropped to his knees, the warmth you had sitting between your legs was hit with the cool air of the room as he did. He kept his hands off of you and himself but fiddled with his thumbs to keep them busy in some way. He took in a deep breath, before speaking quickly," Can I taste you?" His voice was embarrassingly loud like he was just waiting and waiting to finally say it. It sort of shocked you, you assumed he’d be nervous after admitting he hadn't done this in a while. You pulled your legs together, finally feeling how wet you were becoming, but needing to commit to the bit. You crossed your ankles to furth prevent access. "I suppose so.. But what do you saay?" you reached down and tapped the tip of his nose, as you dragged out your words like you were speaking to a child. "Please..! I need to touch you, please.." He quickly replied, with no hesitation at all. "Good boy." That was it for you.

You realized you sealed your fate, as you felt him take a hold on your knees and pull them back apart gently. He moved forward until he could rest his head on your plush thigh, which he did for a while. He lifted your skirt up to your waist, then took a moment to appreciate the view. You were finally becoming a bit embarrassed, attempting to close your legs instinctively, but he pushed your legs farther apart, keeping a tight hold onto your thighs. When he looked up at you, his eyes were wide and innocent, as if he wasn’t keeping your legs apart and wiggling his hips to give some much-needed friction to his own growing problems.

He blinked, then looked back down, trailing his clawed finger across your wet underwear. You covered the sounds you were making with the back of your hand, still struggling to keep your legs open for him. He bent his finger and pressed it deeply into your still-clothed entrance. The sensation of the fabric digging into you made you groan, but that didn’t affect him at all. He licked his lips and began gathering spit in his mouth and he pushed your legs back in place, keeping them apart this time. Running his forked tongue across your panties, you squirmed under his touch. As he lapped at the fabric, the heat from his breath and the wetness he was coating you with caused you to fall back onto your forearms. "L-Lucifer - " You said weakly, quickly drawing his attention. "This is cruel." You pouted, continuing to let out a little whimper as he kept running two of his fingers across your underwear.

He cocked his head to the side as if he didn’t understand the damage he was doing. He was playing dumb." Oh? I'm sorry, love, how should I touch you then?" He was way too calm for your liking. He let one of his fingers just graze the hem, only touching a bit of your skin. You let out an annoyed groan, and move your underwear to the side, guiding the tip of his finger to your entrance. With your hand holding his wrist, you pushed his fingers inside of you, a strange sensation to say the least. It was embarrassing. He noticed your discomfort and finally dropped the act, sending you a sweet smile and kissing your thigh before starting to pump his fingers inside of you.

You let out a sultry moan, a mixture of relief and pure pleasure finally hitting you as you felt him add another finger without any real warning. You lulled your head back, not able to see his absolute focus on matching the rhythm of his fingers to the circling of your clit. Before you could fully comprehend, he pulled his hands away and back onto your thighs, delving into your center with a heated, open-mouthed kiss. Letting out a gasp, he delved into your folds, his tongue easily slipping from your entrance and back up to your clit. He lifted a hand to continue to slowly rub his thumb in small circles, so he could focus his tongue on thrusting in and out of your entreance with ease.

He showed no sign of faltering as you bucked into his face, desperate for more of him. Your hands moved to his hair, taking a tight hold as he hit right where he was supposed to. He scrunched his face, letting out a low growl as you yanked at his scalp, the vibrations startling you in a wonderful way. He only sped up when you started to babble about being close, letting your thighs tighten around his face as you finish into his lips. He continues his rapid pace, the adrenaline from being squeezed by your shaky legs taking over. You finally pulled his head away from you after the pleasure of overstimulation started to ache in your core. You sunk backward, your body twitching on occasion.

He planted a kiss on your thigh before rising back to his feet. He leaned into you, the fabric over his groin coated in your juices the longer he pressed in. He pecked your temple, looking at you, completely unphased." Too much? How did I do..?" He seemed genuinely interested in whether or not he did a good job." Y-you did.. Great.. It was g-good.. Felt good.." You gave a pathetic thumbs up as you caught your breath." W-what happened to the whole it's been a while thing? Fuck, Lucifer." You sat up finally seeing that he split the fabric of your underwear at some point to gain better access." Guess I've still got it." He said with a smirk, waggling his eyebrows at you. You couldn’t take him seriously. Your wetness and lipstick stained his mouth, the eyeliner you had applied had ran down his cheeks and rubbed under his eyes. Not to mention, he was covered in your marks. It's fine you can cover those, you thought. Even with his sudden burst of dominance, you took pride in the fact that this was all because of you. He was all yours.

☆☆☆

If you're curious, that one is pushing 10k words ;)

(Tagging some people who might appreciate it) @saints-wrapped-in-plastic @bat-boness @christineblood

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