I’ve been watching Lucifer on Netflix, and it occurred to me that he fits pretty well into Fae Apoc, powers and all, and ah, here’s an AU of his early days “on Earth,” that is, free of his previous employment…
The blonde women is Mike VanderLinden.
“Hello, Luci. I heard you got out.”
Lucifer didn’t know the gorgeous blond woman approaching him, but that she was gorgeous, called him Luci, and heard you got out told him that he didn’t want to know her, either.
“I did.” He was going to have to work on sounding more certain when he said that.
And on not clearing his throat. He cleared his throat — and bit his lip, she really was quite gorgeous. “Might there be something I could do for you? A favor, perhaps?”
Damnit, that was what the Prince of Hell said, the favored bastard son, not Lucifer Morningstar, free demon.
She was smiling, shit. “Oh, no, Luci.” She pronounced the I like it was in his full name, a gentle ih, and it made him like her just a little bit more. “No, I want to do something for you. Tell me.” She leaned forward over the table. Her scent was light and delightful and, oh, no. “What is your deepest desire? What do you want more than anything else, mmm?”
That was his line! That was what he said, to get things out of people they’d never otherwise — “Freedom.”
She didn’t have his power, he knew it. But it wasn’t like that one wasn’t obvious anyway, right? “I want to be free.”
“Freedom, mmm?” Her eyes raked over him. “Tricky. How about wealth and fame? Easier to pull off, and with enough of them, it looks like freedom anyway.”
He was out on his own with nothing but Maze and his wiles. “Wealth and fame, mm?” Oh, good, he was starting to sound more like himself. “And what do you want from me?”
“Sevens.” She sat back, smiling far too widely. “That is. Seven nights with each of seven fertile women over seven years.”
“Now, I’m never going to turn down a night with someone, you know me. Or, at the least, you’ve heard of me. But fertile? Whatever you’re doing, you must be hard up indeed to be willing to take my seed for it.”
“Oh, you misunderstand me. I am not looking for any old seed, Lucifer Morningstar. We want yours. And we are willing to set you up to live like the Prince you are — if you just sign on the dotted line.”
“Isn’t that supposed to be my line?” he complained.
“Oh, I’ll sign too. Everything will be promised, bonded, and shiny gold-plated. But you need to agree, of course.” She quirked one blonde eyebrow at him. “Can you do that for me?”
“How much wealth and fame?”
She laughed. “As much as you need, darling. As much as you need.”
He was screwed.