#a follow up to the drawing i did eons ago sorry it took so long

[pilkypills]

hi here’s the company + amongus playstyles ඞ

Thorin: An unmitigated loser. His instincts about who to trust are somehow always wrong. Dies first frequently. Hates being impostor because he is terrible at lying. Has to constantly be reminded that even if he’s dead he still has to do tasks.

Fili: Likes to play detective and trick other people into saying too much. Stays in the vents way too often and too long. It’s gotten to the point where if the others even see him near one, he’ll get accused and ejected even if he’s innocent. Constantly trying to convince the others to try the additional role options.

Kili: A good, if overeager player. Gets bloodthirsty as impostor and goes for as many kills as he can. Almost always targets Fili first, which usually gets him caught. Says cheesy one-liners too. Average as crewmate.

Balin: Years of diplomatic training have prepared him for this. Can consistently talk himself out of ejection. Very strategic as an impostor. Pulls off the most impressive kills. Camps security cameras as crewmate.

Dwalin: Perceptive, but tends to overreact a lot to getting called sus which makes things worse for himself. Holds a grudge like nobody’s business. Low win rate.

Oin: Plays the game because Gloin wont shut up about it (secretly likes to feel included). Gets caught immediately as impostor bc he doesn’t really give a shit. Does enjoy the task minigames a little. Doesn’t mind getting killed early because hovering through walls is “so much easier”

Gloin: picked up the game because Gimli likes it. Loves the customization options. Has bought matching amogus merch for him and his son. Average level player all around.

Dori: Gets annoyed when crewmates don’t do tasks, even when he’s impostor. Usually the first to respond to sabotages. Very liberal with the emergency button since he’s discovered it updates the task bar.

Nori: ONLY stack kills. Likes high-risk 4d chess moves that rarely pan out for him. As crewmate its impossible to get him to do tasks. King of third-impostoring. Low win rate but having a great time.

Ori: Plays a very subtle impostor game, letting his teammate do most of the kills. Rarely ever caught. Loves tactical door sabotages. Thinks being crewmate is a bit boring.

Bombur: Tends to get voted out because he doesn’t speak up during discussion. A subtle player like Ori. Never holds a grudge and always makes sure to congratulate the winners. High loss rate as crewmate, average as impostor.

Bifur: ONLY interested in the task minigames. If he catches the impostor he will straight up be like ‘I do not see it 😌’ Never rats anyone out, rarely does any killing as impostor.

Bofur: Undisputed Company amongus champion. Cmon. He’s Bofur. He dominates and derails discussion time so no voting gets done. The others always tell themselves they won’t trust him anymore and they forget pretty much every single time. An observant crewmate, too. High win rate on both sides.

Bilbo: Gets away with a lot by virtue of being himself. Everyone feels bad about accusing Bilbo, a fact he smugly uses to his advantage (often to hilarious results). Does his best work with Nori as his partner. They are chaos incarnate.

[em0avacado]

Only You

( Angel Reyes x Reader )

trigger warnings : none i think, guys being dudes, soft at the end. Language maybe.

word count : 2.1k ish

You were difficult to figure out, that was one thing you knew very well. You’d grown up around teenage boys all your life, being rough, chaotic and careless is all you knew. It’s who you were. Everyone knew that, but what no one knew? Was that you very, very capable of having a soft spot for someone. It was rare, when you were in highschool you swore to yourself there wouldn’t be another man you’d let close to your heart, and you were doing so well being, well, that bitch™, that when you met Angel Reyes, it threw you off, horribly so. You didn’t know how to handle it, you saw him, and you wanted to make sure he was taking care of himself, which, was likely that he wasn’t. It only got worse when you and him quickly became the best of friends. For some reason, when you started liking him a little more than the rest of your friends, you were lost, so unfamiliar with any emotions, having shut that out eons ago. Somehow, you’d worked it out in your head that you had to be more mean to him than the rest of them.

You had come home late from work one night, you were exhausted, and very much irritated when you heard rustling and noise behind your door. Nearly groaning, you shoved the key in your door and let yourself in, clearly, the boys had done the exact same who knows how long ago. You dropped your bag, and keys on the table before wandering into the very noisy living room where Angel, Ez, Coco, and Gilly were sat on your couch, feet up, beer in hands. Clearing your throat was what caught their attention, their cheers of excitement hurting your pounding head. They looked happy, and relaxed. You wouldn’t admit it but that was your favourite thing to see. Except, Angel. He didn’t look impressed.

“well look who decided to show up.” he said with an unimpressed tone, causing you to roll your eyes.

“Yeah, sorry I came home late to guests I didn’t invite over.” you muttered, pulling your coat off and setting it aside. “next time i’ll let the boss know I can’t take the last shift there might be a bunch of weird men in my home.”

“you sure it was just a late work shit? You not fucking your boss?” he asked with a hint of.. something? In his tone. Who the hell did this man think he was? Rolling your eyes once again, you didn’t have the patience to fight with Angel tonight, you’d said your boss was attractive once in response of him gushing over some girl at Vicky’s and he hasn’t let it go since.

“Why? You jealous?” you asked, and very quickly got a reaction, he got defensive.

“No.” he nearly spat “why would I be jealous of your boss?” his arms crossed over his chest. The rest of them watched with wide eyes. Except Coco, who was too invested in Tiger King.

“Because you want to fuck me.” you said blatantly, he, and Gilly, choked on their beers as Angel quickly tried to regain himself.

“I do not!” he protested, coughing and wiping at his face.

“mhm.” you hummed, pushing off your boots and heading off to the back, wanting to just have a shower before getting comfortable for the night, hoping to forget, even for just a moment, that there was a bunch of home invaders in your living room. Just as you were shutting your bedroom door, you heard mumbles and a then very clear conversation.

“You wanna fuck [Y/N]?” Gilly asked Angel, Ez could only laugh, he knew his brother, he knew he did.

“no.” grumbled Angel.

“Isn’t that kind of gay?” asked Coco. “I mean - she’s one of us, she’s literally beat you up, she’s a bro. That’d be like fucking me.” You snorted at that, of course he’d say that shit. Always. “Isn’t she.. a lesbian?”

Next you heard “Oh shit I thought she was too.” from Gilly.

“She’s not a lesbian! She thinks Bucky Barns is hot, she’s said she wants him to crush her head with that metal arm of his.” Said Ez, you heard Angel huff like a child.

Great, you thought to yourself, now you have a living room full of idiots trying to figure out your sexuality. You grabbed a towel, rolling your eyes at your friends, and went for your shower. Washing away the days stress, replacing the stench of oil and hard work with your signature cucumber, aloe vera scent. You settled on a thick sweater and plaid pj shorts before heading back into the living room where you expected to see the rest of your friends, now more ready to deal with them until you went to bed, but when you saw no one, you grabbed a water and headed to sleep.

The next few days were an endless series of hectic, and tiresome hours put into work, every day something went wrong. You hadn’t been so close to having a total breakdown in forever, but the weight on your shoulders felt so heavy. You couldn’t wait to go home, you had the next two days off and you couldn’t wait but dream of catching dreams and nothing but that. But when you got to your door, it was unlocked. Pulling the gun from your waist, you cocked it and raised it as you entered, only to find Angel at your table with his head in his hands. Setting down your things, you locked the door behind you and shed your work clothes.

This was a routine whenever either one of you had a particularly hard day, you turned to one another, despite the endless banter, you two easily fell into being each other’s safe haven. You deemed it to be because you understood each other, like best friends did, it worked. At some point, though, you’d began to fall for Angel and you had no idea how to deal with it.

“am I okay to shower?” you asked softly, crouching down beside where he sat, running a gentle hand over his head. He aches for your affections, even the slightest of your touches calmed the man, but he knew that you had to be the one to instigate it. You hated physical contact, it was rare you trusted, let alone liked someone enough to let them touch you. You were picky with it. Angel respected that, though he did sometimes want to just pull you into a hug when his world was spinning, yet he didn’t. You saw it in the way that he involuntarily followed your hand that it was a hard day for him, when he nodded, you gently squeezed his shoulder. “okay, take off your kutte and boots and go lay in bed, i’ll be there after, okay?” when he nodded again and began to move, you headed off to the bathroom quickly to rinse off.

Not all that long after, you’d met him in your room, like you promised. You wore pj shorts, and a tank, he was in his wife beater and boxers. You climbed in, and lifted the comforter wordlessly, inviting him in. He quickly settled against you, his face laid against your chest. You trailed your fingers over his back, drawing soft shapes on his skin a mark that didn’t stain much more than his mind. You both laid in a comfortable silence, his hands were secured at his sides, eventually yours sat in his hair, playing with the short strands as he listened to your heart beat. He never thought he’d be more thankful for someone else’s beating heart.

“Do you like Bucky Barnes more than you like me?” he asked, breaking the silence after a while. You furrowed your brows slightly and looked at him. You saw his glassy brown eyes staring right back at you. Your heart melting at the sight.

“Angel, Bucky is a fictional character.” you answered simply.

“So you do.” he said in disappointment, sighing. Jealousy hung heavy over his head, perhaps it wasn’t just that, perhaps he had an exceedingly difficult day. When he started pulling away from you, you wrapped your arms around his head and pulled him in, the gesture was.. sweeter and much more gentle in your head, but everyone knew you weren’t the most graceful, so you accidentally jabbed him not only in the eye, but also picked his nose for him. Dismissing the fact that you did that, you took his face in your hands and had him look to you.

“Bucky Barnes has nothing on you.” you said, doing your best to sound reassuring.

“What about his arm?” he asked, puppy eyes on full display. This man will be the end of you.

“I’d let you run over my head with your bike.” you told him, trialing your thumbs over his cheeks. Something inside you told you that there was a fine line between platonic and romantic, and that you’ve both bolted passed that line ages ago, in private, at least.

“you really mean that?” he asked yet another question, you knew you were playing into his ego but you could only give in to him.

“i do.” you said, yawning. He wrapped his arms around you again, and settled back down. Shutting his eyes. You had a few minutes at best before you were out, and Angel knew that once you started yawning, it only took a little while till you were out.

But the next morning, when you slowly started to come back to the world of the living, you heard Angel mumbled something into the phone. Being the nosy son of a bitch you were, you listened in. “I don’t know, man. All I know is that if I don’t leave now, I don’t think I ever will. She doesn’t see me the way I see her, I can’t force this on her, I’ll lose her for good and I’d rather have her as a friend, but I can’t lose her. On god little brother I can’t.” he mumbled, and you felt your chest heat up. He was talking about you. To Ez. Shutting your eyes again for a moment, you took a deep breath and climbed out as you heard him rustling around. You grabbed one of the blankets, surrounding yourself with it to try to warm back up after your toes were kissed by the cold. You headed out of the room, your toes padding against the hard wood floor. You’d caught him in the middle of opening the door, and talking to Ez still.

“Please don’t leave.” You said, your voice soft, almost timid. Angel turned around, looking at you all wide eyed.

“Wh - huh?” he looked at you dumbfounded.

“Come back to bed, I’m cold.” you said, clutching the blanket tighter.

“[Y/N], I - I have to go.” he responded, fumbling with the phone in his hand as Ezekiel yelled at him to get his head out of his ass on the line.

“You’re an idiot.” You quickly shuffled closer to him, letting go of your grasp on the blanket, you reached up, cupping his face in your hands and you lead him closer to you. Looking into his eyes, you felt his hot breath brush against your face, taking a second to really look at him before connecting your lips to his in a soft kiss. This was definitely crossing the friendship line, but he was intoxicating. “Don’t leave now. Don’t leave ever.” you said when your lips parted for air. Your eyes on him, all you heard was his heavy breathing, and the cheering on the other end of the phone.

The sight of you right then and there let Angels heart melt into puddle, he hadn’t seen it before but you looked at him like he was the world, and he was, he was your world, even though you’ve quite literally sucker punched him in the stomach for taking your last cheese bun.

“So she’s not a lesbian right?” you heard Coco ask everyone.

“Coco I’m gonna beat your fucking ass.” you said, grabbing the phone before hanging up. “but first imma eat yours.” you tried to say in a serious voice, but the moment Angels face twisted in disgust, you lost it.

“Way to ruin the moment.” he groaned.

“You want me to bring the moment back?” you asked, raising a brow at him when he nodded. You reached up, brushing back his hair, taming the bed head ever so slightly, you brought your hands down to his beard, scraping your nails gently against it as you brought your lips back to his. “give me another kiss then, baby.” your voice drawled out softly, meeting his lips in a soft, yet passionate kiss.

Taking his hand after a few moments, you pulled him back to the bedroom, he was completely caught in a trance. So, as you walked, you set his phone aside, you pushed off his kutte and tossed it on the couch, you unbuttoned his flannel and tossed it on a close by chair. “Are you trying to fuck me?” he asked, bewildered.

“No, not right now.” you chuckled softly. “I want to lay with you, I want your warmth, and your smiles, and your laughter when I tell you some stupid joke, I want your arms around me. I want to hold you. Only you. Let me feel safe in your arms because I don’t anywhere else.” you admitted, pulling him into you. He looked like a lost puppy as you spoke, but then he fully dove into you, not wanting to look back.

“and after our nap? I’m making waffles.” you said in your donkey impression, making Angel roll his eyes. “Angel baby.. When we fuck I’m gonna moan like I think Donkey does when he and that dragon fuck, okay?” you ask, entirely serious.

“oh god please no.” he laughs, hiding his face in your chest.

Tag List :

@mayans-sauce

@queenbeered

@lilacyennefer

[gilbirda]

Payment

After winning their silly little bet, Lucifer had arranged a vacation for him and his detective in a private island. What he doesn't know is that she had plans of her own.

<< Prequel

[Read in AO3][Read in FF.net]

"So," she heard the voice followed by a loud thump of something really heavy hitting the floor. "What do you think?"

Heavenly, was her first thought, but she was sure he wouldn't like the humour behind her words. Instead, Chloe pulled up her sunglasses and stepped into the mansion - she refused to call it a house - by the beach where Lucifer apparently wanted them to spend the rest of the week.

A beach in a private island, because of course The Devil owned a Caribbean island in the Bermuda Triangle. Despite the creepy mysteries behind planes and boats disappearing here, he had assured her that there wasn’t anything supernatural about this place; and as a bonus they had plenty of privacy here. The smile as he said it told her that he wasn’t exactly referring to nosy neighbours or unwanted visits.

She had never been in a private island. Or any island. One would think that with a famous mother she would have traveled a lot, but the fact is that she always been too busy with her studies and acting school to keep Penelope company in her travels.

Chloe smiled, swallowing down the knee-jerk reaction to Lucifer’s absurd wealth shows, and turned to see his buried under an equally absurd amount of luggage. It was his own fault, insisting that he chose everything she would wear or need as part of their bet, so she didn’t offer any help as she would have any other moment.

He didn’t seem tired, anyway.

“It’s nice,” she shrugged with a smirk, putting back her sunglasses and going inside the mansion with a flick of her hair.

.

Chloe was having the time of her life. She knew it was petty of her, but sometimes being predictable was boring and wasn't Lucifer complaining all the time about getting bored? That she could use some excitement in her life.

Seems like teasing the Devil was her new favorite pastime.

Serious teasing. Sexual teasing. Hinting promises and leave him hanging all day, being extra careful with her tongue movements as they ate ice-cream before, making unnecessary eye-contact every time she responded with an innuendo.

She really have been trying to read this book for a while, too, but Lucifer’s glare was too heavy to ignore even if he had been as quiet as a cat as he hovered around her.

A shadow was cast over her, but she didn’t lift her head to look at him.

“The main protagonist is about to have mind-blowing sex with the Dark Lord, so please move. You are blocking the light.”

The Devil snorted. “Why do you read that crap when you can have real-life mind-blowing sex with your own Dark Lord?”

He was trying so hard to conceal his frustration that her mask of controlled boredom almost cracked for it. It was endearing, watching him squirm and get all bothered because of her.

“Chloe…” he practically whined.

The woman smiled and closed the book, taking off the sunglasses. Maybe it was time to stop her game. She knew that they were here because of that stupid bet and that she was supposed to be living the fantasy of a deserted island with her boyfriend; but the truth is that she had been brewing a plan for this little vacation.

Lucifer thought she wouldn’t notice how he tried so hard to meet her needs, sexualy speaking that is; but the fact is that she did notice him withdrawing every time she presented a more active front. She knew he liked going down on her and tending to her every whim and plea, they had talked about it before, but it didn’t mean he didn’t have a preference or two. He had eons to try everything, true, and he must have a favorite position or kink.

So far she hadn’t approached him about it, but she was going to change that.

“Yeah?”

His expression was a mix of kicked puppy and Trixie’s face when there’s steamed broccoli for dinner.

“Please.” She wasn’t sure if she liked how he sounded saying that word; but the sensation surely won over the impulse of comforting him immediately.

Chloe smirked. “Join me for a quick shower?”

His smile lit up like a Christmas tree.

.

Breathing heavily, Chloe considered her boyfriend as he rearranged his bathrobe, his hair beyond salvation after the attack of her hands as he did so many wonderful things between her legs.

“Want more?” his voice made her focus on his eyes. They glinted with mischief.

“Uh-huh,” she shook her head, jumping off the bathroom counter. Didn’t bother with a towel, though. “Just thinking.”

“About?” he offered her another robe, opening it for her to pass her arms through.

“You.”

“Obviously,” she rolled her eyes at his tone, “but what about, specifically?”

She could cower and let it go, she knew; but between with the deep relaxation after a perfect shower followed by a mindblowing orgasm, she felt bold and brave. She came here with a mission.

“What do you want?”

He blinked. “I’m afraid I don’t follow. You mean for dinner? Or…”

“Sorry. Let me rephrase it,” she cleared her throat, looked at him in the eye, leaning in a bit. “Tell me, what do you desire?” she said trying to mimic his accent.

Lucifer snorted and pinched her nose. “Awful. Just awful. Don’t do that ever again.”

“Okay, okay. I won’t,” Chloe batted his hand away. “But my question still stands. What is it that you most want?”

“You. I thought it was obvious,” he frowned like it was a stupid question.

“I mean, hm…” her bravery was vanishing. “In sex. I know you have a lot of experience and everything… Let me finish!” she said when he opened his mouth to, probably, reassure her once more that monogamy wasn’t a torture and she was more than enough and Detective, please, nothing can compare. “I have a point. What I wanted to say is, I have noticed how you do a bunch of stuff for me but don’t ask anything in return.”

“I thought that it was okay to do something without it being a deal…?” Chloe could almost see the question marks floating around his head.

“Yes! Yes, it is. But, trust me I can’t believe I’m saying this, I would do anything you ask of me. Doesn’t matter how kinky or, dunno, weird.”

“Anything…” he murmured the word, taking a step back, analysing her.

“Tell me, I’ll understand,” she looked down at her fidgeting hands, forcing them to stop. Here it goes, she though. Lucifer, the King of weird kinks and forbidden desires. What kind of thing would be the Devil’s kink? His one forbidden desire? The man who spoke of sex as an everyday thing, who had a BDSM dungeon (she knew about its existence, but never been there) fully stocked, who could draw the darkest and deepest fetishes of people without blinking.

Lucifer was still watching, considering, making her more nervous. Was it so fucked up that he didn’t want to talk about it out loud?

“Detective,” she jumped at his voice, “while I appreciate the thought, you don’t have to do anything for me. What you already give is more than enough for an eternity.”

How could he deliver such corny and cheesy phrases without sounding tacky? It was a mystery, but her money was on the accent. And his height.

Chloe took a deep breath. “I know. I’ve had my fair share of guilt tripping boyfriends pressuring me into sex to know you are not one of them.” He smiled dangerously, making it clear that he wanted the names of those ‘boyfriends’. “This is something I really want to do. And who knows, maybe I’ll like it too?” she gave him a tentative smile.

Lucifer relaxed, smiling back, closing the space between them to softly place a kiss on her lips.

“I love you,” he whispered like it was a fact.

And it was.

“Then tell me what you -”

“Stop right there if you value your kidney,” he grumbled. The devil didn’t like her butchering his catchphrase, it seems.

“I wasn’t going go say it.”

“Liar.”

She smirked devilishly, pushing him towards the bed, amazed once more when he let himself be pushed.

“What is it?”

Was it a blush in his cheeks? “Promise you won’t laugh.”

She frowned. “Laugh?” Chloe frowned.

“Yep. Promise.”

“I promise, sure, but I wouldn’t laugh at you anyways.”

He searched inside her eyes for a few seconds before sighing, closing his eyes.

“I want you to dominate me.”

Her eyebrows went to the hairline. “That was unexpected.” But she rolled with it, as she always did with her partner. “I thought Maze…?”

“Dear Mazikeen sure is the dominating type in bed,” he conceded with a slight nod, “and I let her do with me what she wanted more than a few times. But what I crave is more than pain and restraining. True submission is about -”

“Trust,” Lucifer saw the gears work inside her pretty brain. She knew him well, knew about his opinions about free will, about his issues with trust. Hell wasn’t place of trust and friendship, he had told her plenty of times. Maze was his trusted bodyguard and lover, but she was, after all, a demon. “And you trust me.”

“With my whole life.”

Chloe kissed him, hard.

“I don’t do pain, though,” she grabbed his face, looking at him in the eye. “I wouldn’t-”

“I know,” he smiled.

“Good. Then I’m game, if you excuse my inexperience.”

Lucifer moved her so he could stand up from the bed, straightened his bathrobe, and flashed her a charming trademark Lucifer smile.

“Worry not, Detective! We can start with something simple.” With long strides, he glided towards a dresser by the bed, opening a drawer and retrieving some stuff from inside. “Have you ever used one of this?”

Chloe should have expected this. She should, with how the conversation was going. But she wasn’t ready to see a pretty and shiny (and new, she noticed) strap-on with the dildo already attached. She had flashbacks of a moment a long time ago, with a young Chloe awkwardly kissing a woman, a girl who thought that “she was just experimenting” and “just a phase”. Yeah right.

“Once,” her voice didn’t falter, thankfully.

“Nice,” he smiled, showing a lot of teeth, “I want to hear about that story sometime.”

She made a face. Of course he would want to hear about her sex life, even if it wasn’t as colorful as his.

Chloe stood and approached him to retrieve the strap-on, one hand on his chest to push him back towards the bed. He let her, stealing a kiss as he walked backwards. The woman snorted.

“So,” she said, watching him from above, weighing the dildo in one hand as she contemplated what to do next. She wasn’t usually dominating in bed, but… well, it warmed her heart to hear his reasons behind wanting it. “Take off the robe.”

He nodded and did as he was told, making a show of it.

Chloe smiled softly. “Now, I want you to....,” she looked around, considering her words, “kneel.”

His knees made a dull sound when they contacted with the wooden floor, but he didn’t make an expression of pain. Chloe put her free hand on his hair, petting him softly, trying to dictate what kind of dominance she was going for. She didn’t do pain, didn’t do humiliation. He had suffered that enough in his life; and she was absolutely sure that it wasn’t what he was asking for with his request.

“You look so pretty like this, Luce,” her smile was soft, “I love how vulnerable you look around me.” Her hand went down his face, caressing his lips. He leaned into the touch, but didn’t say anything.

“I love kissing you knowing that I am the only one. That your lips are mine,” her nails scrapped his scalp softly when she grabbed a bit of hair, not enough to hurt. “Are they?”

“Yes,” his voice didn’t tremble, but he closed his eyes. Chloe smiled.

“Good. Stand up.”

Being so close to him, his height made him tower above her, but that didn’t make her cower down. It never did.

“On the bed,” she slapped his backside when he turned to do as she told him. “Good devil.”

“Always.”

“Uh-huh, didn’t give you permission to speak,” she stood before him, placing the strap and the dildo somewhere on the mattress and focusing on him.

He arched an eyebrow, but bit down whatever he was going to retort with.

“Now, for your little slip of the tongue, you are not allowed to move,” she locked eyes with him as she kneeled between his legs, her intentions clear. “No words, but you can make sounds. And no touching me.” Her growl was good, he decided. Pasable.

Without preamble, she took him into her mouth, delighted when he jumped and fisted his hands on the sheets. He enjoyed touching her, her face, her hair, her shoulders, anything, as she does her blowjobs; she was sure that part of it was to make sure she was real and was actually doing it. She liked it too, not going to lie, even if sometimes he got a bit rough.

Okay, maybe those times turned her on more that she was going to admit out loud.

She looked up as she bobbed her head up and down his length, smiling around him once she found a very flustered devil, jaw locked in place, trying very hard to control his own body from reaching for her. His eyes were shifting between normal brown and hellfire red, the only sign that she was doing exactly what she wanted.

Lucifer should have expected this, he thought. His Detective was cunning and clever, with a mischievous streak buried deep under her sensible clothes and brown shoes. What he didn’t expect was looking down to find her swallowing him further and further, her face scrunched in concentration as she overcame her gag reflex with the ease of enough practise.

Once she managed to reach all the way up, he couldn’t hold it in anymore. Throwing his head back, he moaned loudly, her name on the tip of his tongue, remembering in the last minute that he wasn’t allowed to say words. His hands trembled on his sides, the urge to grab her head and pound into her throat consuming his thoughts until he couldn’t stop imagining it even with his eyes opened.

She kept her head down one moment that felt like eons before withdrawing, taking a deep breath.

“Do you like it?” her lips were swollen as she smiled her question, one hand idly stroking his cock with care. Lucifer nodded hastily, taking the break to breathe himself. “Good devil.” He shivered at her praising. “I love watching you like this, too. I love doing this to you knowing that I am the only one who can touch you like this. Am I? You can speak.”

"Yes.”

He was close, she knew. It was tempting to give her all and make him cum after the teasing, but she was strong enough to ignore the siren’s call.

“Good, good,” she nodded and let him go. Lucifer gasped, looking at her like she had just murdered his puppy. “No talking,” she reminded him when he opened his mouth.

Lucifer rolled his eyes in a very Decker way.

“On the bed,” she made a gesture with her chin, a soft smile on her lips. “Good devil,” the woman said as he did so, ignoring the smug smile when he laid down, hands behind his head, and proudly presenting his Luciferness for her.

Chloe reached for the harness, her hands finding their places in the straps and quickly fastening the contraption between her legs. She felt in control, dominant, and exactly in tune with what she wanted to do. Lucifer watched her with anticipation while she went for the lube and applied a generous quantity over the silicone, stroking the false cock to thoroughly spread the glossy substance.

She kneeled between his legs, reached for a nearby pillow and put it under him, ordering him to lift his hips with a soft slap on the leg, before spreading even more lube on her right hand and grabbing his member by the base, waiting for confirmation. He nodded briefly, letting her hand slid down, biting back a retort about not really needing prep, duh, who has she thinking he was?

“Before you start bitching about it, remember how vulnerable,” she made a point by squeezing his cock almost to an uncomfortable point. He jumped and gasped, but not really for the pain, “you are around me. Trust me.”

The thing is, he did.

Chloe put in a finger, lazily pumping him with her left hand, looking into his eyes as she added almost immediately another finger. She felt him relax into the sensation, not really aroused by it but enjoying the feeling of his Detective touching him in such delightful ways.

The woman added another finger, slowly spreading them, focusing on the rhythm and his reaction to it.

Lucifer gasped when she deemed him sufficiently prepared and withdrew her digits, pouring some more lube just in case.

“Thank you for allowing me this moment, Lucifer,” she caressed his chest as she shuffled closer to him, her fingers leaving wet tracks on his tanned skin, “I love how doing this to you makes me feel. How your body responds to me,” she said as she probed the entrance with the plastic toy.

Without any further warning, she slowly pushed the dildo in, watching out for any discomfort or pain in his expression. He had closed his eyes, one of his hands floating near her hip as if reaching to guide her. Chloe waited for a moment.

Lucifer’s breath hitched when she withdrew as slowly as she entered. No one told him it would be like this. No one could have warned him it could be like this. Sex with the love of his life was amazing and everything but, bloody hell, this woman…!

She thrusted right back in, and he actually mewled in response, his hands choosing to fist around the sheets again. Was he allowed to touch her again…? He wasn’t sure. He wasn’t sure anymore about anything. Why was Chloe doing this? He should have asked sooner. Hell, he should have offered sooner, if this was what got her into his bed.

“You can speak,” her words were like fresh water in the dessert.

“Chloe,” he grumbled, his voice a hybrid of a growl and a moan. “More.”

She didn’t say anything else and picked up the pace a little, her hands searching for anchor in his thighs to power her thrust, searching for the balance of force and speed he craved.

“More!” He arched his back, feeling like something was quite there but not there, making him mad with the need, like scratching an itch he couldn’t reach.

Instead of going faster, Chloe gradually stopped. He opened his eyes, horrified, scared that he said the wrong thing or wanted too much, or she was finally realizing that dating a celestial maybe wasn’t exactly what she wanted-

“On your belly,” her breathing was labored but her expression focused. She slapped his stomach softly when he didn’t move. “I have an idea, one that maybe won’t require cramping my legs.”

In a daze, Lucifer did as told, missing the pressure of the dildo inside of him, missing the reassurance of seeing her face and asses if she was okay or not. His back may not be scarred anymore, and she was allowed to touch him where she wanted now, but he still felt utterly vulnerable in his position. Maybe she knew this?

Chloe run a finger over his spine, right between where his wings would be. “Wings. Out.”

“Chloe?”

She kissed his back instead of answering.

Taking a deep breath he unfurled his enormous wings, careful of not pushing her out of the bed in the process. This wasn’t the first time he showed her his cursed appendages, even during sex; but it was the first time she asked for them. She knew about the conflicted emotions around them, the pain and the loss, about the grooming and what it entailed. What it meant to be touched there.

“I’m going to touch your feathers, maybe pull them. Is that okay with you?” her voice was soft, not demanding at all, breaking character for the one question he knew he could answer truthfully.

The words came easy. “Please do.”

He felt more than saw her nod before feeling the silicone cock touching him again. He angled his ass better for her, delighted when her hands bracketed his hips like they were made to be there. Just as naturally and easy, she pushed in and started to pump in and out again, slow at first as she found the position to power through what she wanted to accomplish.

Lucifer’s arms trembled when her hands roamed up to his wings, her nimble fingers finding places that triggered shivers and sighs and nice feelings; and places that send lighting to his groin, too. He moaned after one powerful thrust, his hand sneaking down, trying to reach that extra completion…

“Uh-huh,” she slapped the hand away.

“No?” he turned his head to look at her beautiful naked body, the visuals of her cock disappearing inside of him giving him the shivers.

“Nope.” She grinned in a very him way, pushing in a bit harder to accentuate her point. She was in control. She did the action.

“O-okay…” he almost screamed, but bit down the urge.

Lucifer closed his eyes, letting himself feel the friction and the delicious sensations she provided. He screamed when she grabbed a handful of feathers and pulled, careful of not hurting him too much even if she couldn’t know that with her human strength she couldn’t really damage his wings. She pulled again, this time accompanied by another powerful thrust.

His arms trembled, unable of supporting his weight anymore, and fell down, losing the last bit of control he held over what she was doing to him, letting himself be held down by the woman.

“Detective,” he moaned into the pillow. She hummed, raking her nails deep into his wings, sending electric currents through his body. Lucifer screamed again.

“My name, Lucifer. I want to hear my name.” Her voice couldn’t be louder than a normal conversation, but it rang loud in his brain.

He didn’t know if it was her tone or how the new angle made the silicone hit just right but he was sure that he was close again. Still, it wasn’t enough. Nothing was enough. She was enough, but there were so many things he wanted to do with her. It was always like this. He wanted so much, too much, and he wanted all with her. She said she wanted to fulfill his desires but would she really?

He turned his head to look at her delicious form, her focused expression, her lower lip between her teeth in concentration. She was sweating and breathing hard, but she looked… radiant.

“Detec-”, she slapped his ass, glaring at him when she found his eyes. “Chloe,” her name sounded like a plea. “Please don’t stop.”

She was going to ask what he meant, when she felt the resistance to her movements increase, his legs trembling slightly, and she understood now. As he came, she kept moving at a slower pace, guiding her actions by his breathing and the tone of his moans, how he looked at her with eyes switching between dark brown and hellfire red.

He was beautiful like this, she concluded. His hair messed beyond repair, utterly wrecked and helpless under her body. She pulled some feathers again, smirking when immediately he screamed her name, arching his back as much as she let him.

“Don’t stop, please,” he kept saying, this time with eyes glowing red, “Please.”

And she didn’t stop. Chloe kept thrusting and pulling and caressing and slapping; slowing down sometimes, notching the speed a bit up when she found the strength. Her legs were burning, but she kept going. She could do this. She wanted to do this.

It wasn’t until he eventually stopped pleading and mewling and moaning that she ceased all movements. She was tired. And needed a shower. And water.

Slowly, she withdrew the silicone cock, Lucifer’s body falling limp on the bed. She worried for a moment that she had hurt him, but when she rushed to check if he was alive she found him awake but silent, watching her in a daze-like state. She snapped her fingers and he moved his eyes to hers in question, but didn’t do anything else.

Deciding that it was okay as a response, she unfastened the straps and got out of the bed, waggling towards the bathroom as fast as her tired legs could. She wetted a cloth and came back to clean a still unresponsive Lucifer, wrestling with his celestial weight and wings to turn him to clean the bodily fluids clinging to his skin. He would need to shower too, but that was for the them of the future.

For now, napping.

If he agreed or not, she couldn’t know. The only signs that he was alive were his still changing eyes watching her every movement, a blank expression in his face. She had broken him, she knew. For a few seconds, she considered getting this moment captured in a photo for future blackmail, but she dismissed the idea with a smile.

Once they both were clean enough for her standards, she threw the cloth to a nearby table and proceeded to yank the sheets from under the Devil’s body. If she was tired before, she was about to collapse now. Chloe didn’t care if it wasn’t night yet, she was going to nap.

At last she got under the covers with her boyfriend, spooning his unresponsive form, wings and all. She closed her eyes, humming with delight.

“Chloe,” she heard him whisper.

“Hmm?”

“I love you.” His voice broke with emotion. She didn’t comment on it.

“I know,” she kissed the back of his head. “Now, sleep.”

“Okay.”

[rhagfyre]

something so magic about you

Author: queer-omenss

Words: 2.1k

Rating: G (just fluff, really)

Summary: It was a week after the armageddon-that-wasn’t and while Crowley felt more comfortable now, knowing that their respective head offices were leaving them alone (at least for now), he was still terrified of admitting his feelings for Aziraphale, whether that be to the angel or to himself.

basically just some first kiss fluff between everyone’s favorite ineffable idiots husbands !!

Read it on AO3 here

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6:56. Aziraphale was running late. He should have left the bookshop ten minutes ago if he was going to make it to dinner on time. As he locked the door of the shop, he briefly considered using angelic means to get himself there, but he did quite enjoy more human methods of transportation. Stepping up to the curb, the angel hailed a cab and arrived at the Ritz only ten minutes late. He paid and thanked the driver, straightening his jacket and vest before entering the restaurant. As he entered, he spotted Crowley at a circular table not far from where Aziraphale was standing. The demon turned and gave a small wave, and Aziraphale hurried over, feeling a flush creep onto his cheeks. He hoped Crowley wouldn’t notice. 

The angel slid into the seat opposite the demon, straightening his bow tie as he did so. 

“Agh I am so sorry I’m late!” he said, and he seemed rather distressed over it, Crowley noticed.

The demon debated reaching out for Aziraphale’s hand, which was sitting on the table, to comfort him, but changed his mind.

“Don’t worry about it, angel.” he reassured him, giving a small but genuine smile. Aziraphale didn’t look any less concerned. 

“But I’m late, Crowley! I’ve made you wait!” Aziraphale continued, wringing his hands. This time Crowley moved before he could stop himself, reaching out to grasp each of the angel’s hands in his own. To stop him fretting, Crowley told himself. This was definitely the only reason why he did that, and his heart was certainly not beating 1000 beats per minute at the feeling of the warmth from Aziraphale’s hands. 

“Really, angel, it’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.” Crowley assured him, giving Aziraphale’s hands a reassuring squeeze before pulling his own away, as if he finally realized what he was doing. He felt heat flush his neck, and hoped the angel wouldn’t see. Crowley forced his heart to stop beating out of his chest, and gave Aziraphale a soft smile.

Aziraphale was somewhat relieved by Crowley’s reassurances, though he was certainly slightly thrown off when the demon had grasped his hands, and, moments later, surprisingly disappointed when he had pulled them away again. There was a moment of silence before either spoke again. 

“Wine?” Crowley asked, picking up the bottle in front of them, old and undoubtedly quite expensive. Aziraphale nodded, holding his glass up so Crowley could pour the deep red liquid into it. Aziraphale swirled it around and took a sip, sighing slightly as he did so. It was a very good wine. He caught Crowley gazing at him. Aziraphale narrowed his eyes.

“What?” he asked. 

Crowley blinked rapidly when he realized he had been staring at the angel and made an effort to appear more nonchalant in the chair. 

“Oh nothing, angel, nothing.” he replied. Oh but it certainly was something, though the angel needn’t know that. It was a week after the armageddon-that-wasn’t and while Crowley felt more comfortable now, knowing that their respective head offices were leaving them alone (at least for now), he was still terrified of admitting his feelings for Aziraphale, whether that be to the angel or to himself. Aziraphale was still looking at him curiously when the waiter came over to take their order. Crowley never ate very much, so Aziraphale ordered some sort of fancy seafood platter for them to share. 

They passed the time waiting for their food to come by discussing Aziraphale’s bookshop. How many customers he had to turn away today, if he considered making it an online shop. When their meal arrived, along with a second bottle of wine, seeing as they’d already finished the first one, the talking ceased as they began to eat. Well, Aziraphale ate. Crowley had approximately one (1) prawn before sliding the rest of the tray over to Aziraphale. The angel frowned but did not protest. He would never turn down extra food. Crowley swirled his wine around in his glass as he leaned back in the chair watching Aziraphale eat. The warm lighting in the restaurant caused the angel’s hair to glow a sort of gold. Crowley could feel the warmth radiating off him. Something inside him made Crowley want to press himself up against the angel to soak up the warmth, and he wasn’t sure if it was just the cold-blooded snake part. The demon sat there, gazing at the angel while he finished the seafood and patted his lips clean with a napkin, looking satisfyingly full. 

“Mmph, absolutely scrumptious.” Aziraphale sighed, patting his stomach. He looked so pleased, so… content. Crowley was glad he was wearing his sunglasses so Aziraphale couldn’t see his expression. It was moments like this, the seemingly normal, domestic things, that made Crowley fall even more in love with Aziraphale. When the angel was carefree, unburdened by the worries of who might be watching, what might happen. It really hit Crowley then, that that was what he had been feeling for thousands of years. Love. Of course he knew it before this moment, at the Ritz. But maybe, just now, when it was just them and no sides, no head offices. No consequences. Maybe now he had let himself feel it in the full, unsuppressed way he had wanted to for so long. And as that realization hit him in the chest like a ton of bricks, he felt himself shakily setting his now empty wine glass onto the table. Aziraphale noticed the slight tremors in Crowley’s usually smooth, fluid motions and frowned, worried. 

“Are you alright, dear?” he asked, concern lacing his voice.

Crowley nodded. “Yeah just… too much wine, I think.” They hadn’t even finished the second bottle. Aziraphale frowned even deeper, but decided not to pester him further. Not here, not now, not in this public place. He flagged the waiter down and asked for the cheque. When Crowley reached for his wallet, Aziraphale stopped him.

“No, my dear, my treat.” Aziraphale assured him, causing Crowley to slowly replace his wallet into his pocket. 

“Thanks, angel.” he replied, his voice weaker than he meant it to be. Once the bill was paid, the two immortals rose, tucking their chairs back in. As they stepped out into the warm London breeze, Crowley turned left. “Bentley’s this way.” he said by way of explanation, but he was stopped by Aziraphale’s hand on his arm before he could make it more than a few steps.

“You are absolutely not driving in this state,” he admonished gently, still unsure as to what ‘state’ the demon was actually in. “We’ll take a cab.” Aziraphale hesitated, unsure of where they were to take the cab to. Crowley sensed the angel’s uncertainty and provided an answer. 

“The bookshop is good.”

Aziraphale nodded, flagging down a cab and opening the door, waiting for Crowley to slide inside before he followed. The car started moving before Aziraphale could get his seatbelt on, and when the driver took a sharp turn it sent him sliding into Crowley, the demon catching him with gentle arms. 

“Seatbelts, angel. They’re important.” he tisked, his voice tainted with laughter, but made no move to remove his arms from where they were wrapped around the angel, one between Aziraphale’s shoulder and the seat back, and one propping up his other shoulder. Though it was a matter of moments before Aziraphale moved and buckled himself in, it felt like eons. The warmth of the angel had seeped in to Crowley, so warm and so Aziraphale, that when the angel moved away, it was like a blast of cold air hitting Crowley’s skin. He crossed one leg over the other making himself into a tighter tangle of limbs than he was normally seen in. Aziraphale noticed this and frowned. Again. Something was off with his demon. And then he froze. He hadn’t meant to think it. Hadn’t meant to add the possessive article before ‘demon’. Hadn’t meant to… But then maybe he had, subconsciously. In the week following the not-so-end of the world, Aziraphale had let himself think more about his feelings for Crowley. He knew he had some, though for the longest time, hundreds of years at least, he wouldn’t let himself give them much thought. Foolish. What would Upstairs think? But now, with no interference from Upstairs for what he hoped would be a while, he had started giving those feelings some attention. He knew he thought of Crowley as more than a friend. Anyone would, he reasoned, if one were to spend 6000 years with someone. His train of thought was interrupted as the cab came to a halt in front of the bookshop. They hopped out, paid the driver, and slipped into the building, Aziraphale ensuring the ‘CLOSED’ sign was hanging in the window before drawing the blinds. He entered the back room to find Crowey already sprawled out on the couch, his glasses sliding down his nose slightly. 

Determined to figure out what had Crowley so bothered, Aziraphale pulled up a large pouf in front of the couch and sat on it, causing Crowley to sit up and lean against the back of the sofa, facing Aziraphale. Slowly, Aziraphale reached out a hand and tapped softly on the demon’s glasses, his eyebrows raised in question. Crowley nodded slightly, and Aziraphale gently removed the dark glasses from his face. Crowley blinked once, and Aziraphale sat, mesmerized by his eyes for a moment before coughing lightly and placing the glasses on the desk behind him. 

“What is it, angel?” Crowley asked, tilting his head slightly, looking sort of like a confused puppy. Aziraphale hesitated.

“Are- are you alright, Crowley?” he asked, and Crowley could see the genuine concern on the angel’s face.

“What makes you think I wouldn’t be?”

“It’s, well, at dinner, you seemed… seemed sort of.. off?” Aziraphale said nervously, before giving a soft, half-hearted chuckle. “You said you’d had too much wine, but I’ve never seen you get that… shaky after only a bottle and a half.”

Crowley fidgeted slightly, long fingers drawing idle shapes into the couch. 

“Maybe I’m just tired.” he said rather unconvincingly. Aziraphale raised an eyebrow, not buying it. “Its… its…” he started, unable to find the right words. “Argh!” he huffed, frustrated, flinging himself up off the couch, pacing off to the side. Aziraphale turned to watch him.

“Take your time, dear, it’s alright.” he said softly.

Crowley laced his fingers together behind his head as he paced, then flung his arms back down.

“It’s… it’s you, angel!” he said, finally, stopping his pacing and coming to stop in front of the angel. He looked away, out the window, into the street that had gone dark. Aziraphale was puzzled.

“Me?” he asked, brow creasing in confusion. Crowley let out an exasperated sound, a mix between a sigh and a shout.

“Yes! You! You, you, you-” Crowley clenched and unclenched his hands at his sides. “You are just, argh, just-” he stopped again, struggling to express his thoughts.

Aziraphale reached out and gently tugged Crowley’s arm, guiding him to sit back down on the sofa in front of him. Aziraphale scooched the pouf closer, till their knees were just brushing. Crowley sank onto the couch, his head in his hands, braced on his knees. Aziraphale leaned forward and laid a hand on the demon’s knees, causing him to raise his head. Their faces were mere inches apart. Crowley took a deep breath, steadying himself. 

“You’re just so… so god- so satan- so someone-damned perfect.” There, he had said it. Well, part of it. Aziraphale blinked, pulling back every so slightly. Crowley grabbed his wrist. 

“I-wha-” he started, dazed by the emotions running through him at that very moment. Had Crowley really just said what he thought he said? Doubt crossed Aziraphale’s mind, and it must have shown on his face, because Crowley slid his hand from Aziraphale’s wrist to his hand, picking up the other one with his other hand as well. 

“Perfect, angel. I-I know that I’m a demon and you’re an angel and that there is no way we could ever-” the rest of his words were cut off by Aziraphale’s mouth covering his. Crowley froze, shocked, thinking Aziraphale would regret what he had done and pull away. But when he didn’t, Crowley relaxed into the kiss, dropping Aziraphale’s hands to gently hold the sides of the angel’s face, caressing his jaw. Aziraphale’s hands found their way to Crowley’s waist and he pulled the demon closer, deepening their kiss. Finally, they broke apart, breathless (though they technically don’t need to breathe).

Then, blue eyes met yellow, a demon told an angel he loved him, and that angel answered with a kiss holding the fire and passion of 6000 years of memories. 

[sad-sweet-cowboah]

The Hidden Truth

For the nonny who wanted Arthur finding out his pixelated origins!

Summary: Arthur accidentally discovers the Red Dead Redemption 2 game and has some questions.

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Modern!Reader

Warnings: Angst, cursing

It was a rainy morning, stuck inside as it stormed outside, with nothing but the sound of the rain splattering against your windows and the thunder that rumbled in the distance. The TV was on, set at a low volume. You weren’t really paying attention anyway, you sat curled up on your couch as your kitten lay dozing in your lap. You pet her slowly as you scrolled through your phone with your free hand.

The peace was interrupted when a loud crash pierced the air, originating from the kitchen. You jumped as your cat was up in a split second, a puffball on your legs as her claws dug into your flesh in surprise. You gave a small yelp of pain as you jumped up and the poor kitten went falling to the ground.

“Arthur?” You called out.

A moment later, a sandy blonde head appeared through the kitchen doorway, a sheepish expression on his face. “Sorry, Y/N. I dropped a bowl on the floor…kinda a mess now.”

You sighed. “How bad is it? Are you hurt?”

He shook his head. “Nah, just need to clean it up. Spilled some cereal, though…”

“Broom’s in the closet,” you gestured to the door next to the front entrance. “You gave Artemis and I a heart attack, ya know.”

He chuckled slightly, walking to the closet. “Sorry again.”

You didn’t respond as you sat down on the couch once again, diving deep into the bowels of social media to entertain yourself. You heard him open the door and rummage through a couple of things, knowing that you’d hastily thrown in random items in there at some point, you kind of felt bad that you didn’t organize them properly. Oh well, a chore for another time.

It’d fallen silent for a few seconds. You peered over your phone to see Arthur had backed out from the closet with something other than the broom.

Your heart sank when you recognized the unmistakable red cover.

“Wha-“

You’d never moved so fast as you did in just that moment, launching yourself across the room at what felt like hyper-speed to snatch it out of his hands. He looked at you in surprise.

“That has my name on it,” he stated, his eyes wide. “What is it?”

“Nothing you need to be concerned about!” You blurted out, speaking quickly. “Just get that broom okay?”

The look on his face told you that he didn’t believe you. He narrowed his eyes in thought and suspicion. “Y/N, is there somethin’ you ain’t tellin’ me?”

“Nothing at all!” You exclaimed, tucking the game under your arm. “Come on, I don’t want to get ants-“

“Y/N.” His voice was hard, almost dominating. “Please. If you hide it, I’m gonna find it.”

You held his gaze, saying nothing. You knew he was right, and now that it was out, nothing was going to stop him from finding out more. After a long minute, you sighed. “I figured this would happen sooner or later,” You gestured toward the couch. You both walked toward it and sat down, him watching you with curious eyes. “Just don’t freak out.”

You placed the game on the coffee table, reading the name to yourself. The drawing of Arthur stood stark. The game that started it all. He reached out and flipped it over, observing the description and images. You watched as his brow furrowed and his lips turned into a slight frown, the confusion only growing as he read on.

“I’m…I…what is this?” He asked, giving you the most lost look ever.

You sighed again, your hands wringing in your lap. “It’s…well, a video game.”

“A video game,” he repeated slowly. “Like what you showed me on your…uh, smart phone?”

You nodded. “Except this one is for my PlayStation- er, a completely different system,” you explained. “And the reason why your name is on it is, well, because you’re from it.”

He stared at you. “What do you mean?”

You bit your lip. “Arthur, you technically aren’t a real person. You’re from this made up world in this game.”

“Of course I’m real!” He exclaimed. “I’m flesh and blood, same as you!”

You winced at his outburst. “Yes, now you are, for some unknown reason. But the night before you appeared, I was just playing AS you on this game. A fictional character in a fictional world.”

“Playing as me?” He repeated. “I still don’t understand, Y/N. How could I be from that…game…if I’m right here?”

“I don’t know, Arthur,” you slumped forward, placing your chin on your hands in thought. “It’s like the day I told you when you showed up. I don’t know why you’re here or how you even got here. If I knew the answer, I would have told you a long time ago.”

He huffed and stood up, beginning to pace as he ran his fingers through his hair in thought. “Nothin’ makes sense anymore…” he grumbled.

You’re telling me. You thought, watching him silently. “Arthur…” you mumbled, trying to think of anything to say that could remedy this situation.

He paused and turned to you. “This ain’t some joke, right?” When you shook your head, he continued. “I swear if it is-“

“You’ll what, leave and get yourself lost in this world that you don’t know the first thing about?” You interrupted with a fierceness in your voice. You stood up as well. “Look, I promise you I’m not tricking you, okay? Now please, calm down.”

He gave you an incredulous look, his lips parted although he said nothing. Giving another huff, he folded his arms. “Alright, I’m calm. Just…explain to me, please.”

You bit your lip, unsure how to even go about this. You’ve explained what you knew and didn’t know, so you decided to start from the beginning. “This game, Red Dead Redemption 2, I bought it a little while back. The way it plays…it’s kind of like a book. You follow a storyline. It begins with when you find Colter, then the O’Driscoll camp ambush, the Cornwall train heist, to Horseshoe Overlook, Valentine, Strawberry and so on. When I last played, you were still in Saint Denis with-“

“Dutch and John,” he finished. “After gettin’ Jack back.”

You nodded slowly. “You’d just left Bronte’s mansion at that point when I stopped for the night.”

“That’s one of the last things the last thing I remember, before passin’ out at some point” he murmured, tilting his head down, a trait he acquired to hide his eyes behind the brim of his hat, even though he wasn’t wearing it at the moment. “Christ, you know every single detail then?”

“Yes, Arthur. Because I become you when I play the game. It’s like when you immerse yourself in a good story, except you can control the character. The way you dress, the guns you carry, the horses you ride, the white Arabian-that’s all me, it’s been me.”

He didn’t look at you, instead turning away as if to hide. You however had caught the expression on his face, the absolute bewilderment and a twinge of sadness. “So…I’m just…an empty shell? A puppet for someone else’s control?”

You realized with a jolt of regret that it was probably the wrong way to explain it. “Of course not, Arthur,” you said gently, reaching out for his hand, but he pulled it away. “The life you’ve lead-“ or programmed, “has been your own up until Colter. I may have influenced your decisions, but you still have your own self.”

“How am I supposed to believe that?” He whispered, still refusing to look at you.

“You’re speaking to me, aren’t you?” You replied. “A puppet can’t speak for itself, not even have a personality.”

He turned his head ever so slightly, peering at you from the corner of his eye.

“A puppet can’t feel anything. No joy, sorrow, or anger,” You continued. “Yet you stand here feeling confused.”

He made a low noise and turned to look at you fully.

“A puppet also can’t make me feel the things I’ve felt…for you…” you whispered, reaching out for his hands, glad he didn’t shy from your touch this time. “And the way you’ve made me feel, both physically and emotionally.”

You could see the faintest blush form on his stubbled cheeks as he cast his eyes away briefly, and a hint of a smile played at the edge of his lips. “I ‘spose you got me there…”

You smiled as well. “I know it’s a lot to take in, Arthur. And quite frankly, no one’s issues are as unique as yours.”

“Sure as hell got that right,” he snorted without humor. “Does that mean… Dutch and the others…they don’t exist?”

“Well, that’s a good question,” you remembered thinking about the Van der Linde gang a few times, why it had been only Arthur and not any of the others that appeared to you. “I don’t know if they’re still in the game or if they’re in the same situation as you somewhere else.”

He glanced at the game, a thoughtful look crossing his face. “Can…we look?”

And there was the question. With the Arthur from your game standing right in front of you, you had no idea if the game would even work at this point. But there was only one way to find out. You reluctantly crossed to the closet, reaching up to grab your console from the top shelf. Arthur watched you silently as you set it up, hooking the cables and wires in the correct places. Grabbing the controller, you turned the PlayStation on and waited for it to boot up. Greeted by the welcoming music, you logged onto your account and popped the CD in.

Glancing at Arthur, who stared patiently at the screen, you took a deep breath and started the game.

It felt like eons for it to load, wondering if the console detected a big loss in the game’s programming. Yet the unmistakable title appeared before the menu took its place. You held your breath as you chose to continue your gameplay, still waiting for the imminent crash.

Yet nothing happened. You stared in complete shock as the screen displayed the smokey atmosphere of Saint Denis, people bustling about, and Arthur himself standing, waiting to be moved.

Your jaw dropped.

“That…that’s me!” Arthur gawked. “That’s really me!”

“Holy…fucking…shit!” You gasped, and moved the joystick. He moved, no glitching or crashing. “What the actual…how?!”

Your gazes met, both with matching expressions of utter shock. There was no way this should happen. There was no way both Arthurs should exist. The one that stood before you was your Arthur. You knew it immediately from the moment you laid eyes on him. Yet there he was in the game still.

You paused the game and dropped the controller, unable to control the tornado that ran through your mind. You fell back to the couch, holding your head as you failed to even comprehend what was going on. He reached for the controller slowly, his eyes never leaving the screen. He began to press random buttons. Your hand shot out immediately, grabbing his arm. “Arthur-don’t fuck with it-“

“I just wanna-“ he started.

“No.” You said sternly. “If you start playing as yourself right now, I’m going to die from a stroke when my brain breaks.”

He didn’t question as to what that meant, instead he sighed and placed the controller on the coffee table, and took a seat next to you. “So…what does this mean, then?”

You let out a long sigh, unsure how to even answer that question. “Well, I guess it means you’re officially a real person.” You gave him a shrug, grabbing the controller and turning your PS4 off.

You two sat in silence for a few minutes, your mind abuzz with what just occurred and his no doubt the same. You weren’t sure what to do next, should you continue as normal? Let him play the game out of curiosity? Or let it go back to its hiding place and never speak of it again?

He grunted as he shifted, standing up once again. “I should probably clean up that cereal now.”

You were almost thankful for the subject change. “Good idea.”

He once again made his way to the closet, finally digging out the broom from its home. He quietly made his way back to the kitchen when he paused in the doorway, glancing back at you. “Hey…two means there was another Red Dead Redemption before?”

Surprised by the question, you nodded.

“Am I in it?”

You shook your head. You couldn’t exactly explain that his game was a prequel without making it complicated. “Unfortunately no, John’s the main character in that one.”

“Huh,” he murmured in thought. “Marston? Who woulda thought…” he disappeared into the kitchen, mumbling something about raccoons.

[k-p-p-d]

Creatures of the Night, X

Summary: Kihyun’s got a list and he’s checking it twice...

Warnings: sacrilegious mentions/usage of incense offering, allusions to blood

Length: 3k

A/N: I AM GOING TO HELL AND IT IS ALL KIHYUN’S FAULT.  Also, hi, hello, this series has never been dead! It’s just been my Halloween treat for you all~

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9  | 11

[Thirteen hours earlier...]

With such casual precision that only came with a few millennia’s worth of practice, Kihyun arranged the seventeen brass bowls—each filled to brimming save for the last, most precious one—in a semicircle before the volcanic rock-made and sulfur-kissed pestle and mortar which were sat in the middle of the stone table.  Carefully, he ground each fragrant spice and resin until he had reached the exact maneh as prescribed all those eons ago: First came the tears of Chios, then the operculum which was to be followed by the galbanum before the heady, heavy frankincense and myrrh that were to be sweetened, deepened, and balanced by the cassia, muskroot, aloeswood, saffron, costus, raw cinnamon bark (which he had to refrain from getting carried away with and adding too much lest it overpower the delicate balance he had to strike), and the amber of Jordan.  Kihyun, despite all his measured preparations, unceremoniously dumped each ground spice into a separate, larger golden bowl.  He sprinkled the maaleh ashan overtop the combined spices before emptying the bowls containing the Cypriot wine, the karshinah residue, and—his personal favorite considering he had been the reason for its existence—the salt of Sodom into the large bowl.  He lifted it gently to feel the weight of it in his hands as a final assurance it was the proper weight.  He smiled to himself as he lowered the bowl to rest in its rightful place in the ornate gold censer.  

Kihyun let his eyes linger longingly on the sole remaining brass bowl.  An overwhelmingly potent blend of hunger and exhilaration unlike anything he’d felt in centuries washed over him with such force that he had to whisper a soft prayer to his unholy father for strength.  He only needed to hold onto himself for a few hours more.  Once the sun set, he’d be free to sate his appetite enough to tide him over until the real festivities began.  A shiver wracked his body at the thought of him bathing and reveling in a river of the bowl’s forbidden treasure.  He took a steadying breath to calm himself.  He clapped his hands twice.  Out of the literal thin air appeared a sleepy Changkyun.  If he had a heart, Kihyun reasoned it’d might make him coo at the younger’s puffy face and messy bedhead.  But he didn’t have one so instead he ordered (as politely as he could for the nightcrawler’s sake), “Clean all this up for me, except for that bowl and the censer.”  Changkyun blinked at him—nictitating & human eyelids alike—in mild irritation.  Kihyun reached forward to ruffle his hair, knuckles bumping against the stubby horns, and promised sweetly, “If you do it quickly, I won’t summon you again until well after the sun sets.  That means you can get all the sleep you want.”  Changkyun simply nodded as he released an enormous yawn, body moving on autopilot to clear off the table as instructed.  With all the bowls balanced precariously on the forked tip of his tail, he gathered up the large pestle and mortar into his arms before vanishing in a cloud of faint smoke. Waving a hand back and forth to dissipate the lingering smoke, Kihyun exited his study to make his way to his master’s suite.  There he found Hyungwon, busy enchanting every inch of the gold-plated slabs of acacia wood to disguise them lest their fun be spoiled before rearranging them into a floating bed—four posts, a headboard, a footboard, and the sides too. “Hyungwon,” Kihyun called sweetly. “You only use that voice when you’re about to ask me to do something I most certainly have no interest in doing,” the tall man drawled in slight annoyance without even glancing over his shoulder.   Kihyun countered with a smirk, “Since you already know that then you should have no problem acquiescing.” Hyungwon released his most dramatic, long-suffering sigh yet as he slowly turned on his heel and leveled his deceivingly disinterested gaze at the other.  Kihyun knew him well enough to know beneath the surface of his sleepy eyes raged an eternal pyre of vigilance whose flames were fanned by an equally undying sense of curiosity.  “Alright, quit smirking and just tell me.” Kihyun appreciated the enchanter’s bluntness. It made his life so much easier, no need to worry about maintaining pretenses or politeness.  And yet, he still couldn’t help but indulge himself in a favorite past time: Annoying Hyungwon. “I know you’ve been improving your craft,” he stated simply, as if he’d said all there was to say in his vagueness. Hyungwon didn’t even bat an eye.  “If you’re just here to speak in riddles and half-truths to annoy me, I can easily get rid of you with a single chant.  So if you don’t want to be exorcised,” it was his turn to smile disingenuously now, “please get on with it.” “Just ruin all of my fun, why don’t you,” Kihyun grumbled with a deep eye roll.  “But fine, I suppose I’ll let you win this time.”  He stepped further into the room, doors automatically closing and locking behind him as he went.  Hyungwon wasn’t the only one who could do little parlor tricks.  “You’ve added ‘necromancy’ to your skillset and I intend to have you use said skill this evening.  I know I don’t need to impress upon you the importance of this night nor the magnitude of just how...special, shall we say, our guest is to my dear prince.  As such, I am requesting that you aid me in making this the most memorable feast night yet for him.  When the moment comes, do all that you can to draw it out for as long as you can so that he may fully partake in its splendor.” “Just for him?” Hyungwon questioned with a raised brow and bemused lilt to his voice. Kihyun simply shrugged, “I’m a demon.  Selfishness is in my blood, figuratively speaking of course. Forgive me if I want to have my own fun tonight.” Hyungwon laughed, “If I could forgive you, I would only because I love making your skin crawl.  But fine, I’ll draw it out.  Happy?” “Thank you, Hyungwon,” Kihyun smiled warmly at him for the briefest of seconds.  “Now back to work.  I’m not paying you to just be pretty tonight.” “You aren’t even paying me right now because you can’t even afford my overtime rate, you demonic bastard,” Hyungwon scoffed but resumed his work anyway. Kihyun checked his watch. Half-past noon.  If he moved quickly enough, he could catch Hyunwoo before his third lunch of the day.  He hurried out of the suite and down the hidden stairs and passageways once used by the servants of the aging manor.  Just as he pushed open the creaky wooden door, a low growl rumbled through stale air.  Kihyun rolled his eyes as he turned to face the golden pair glowing brightly at him in the darkness of the cellar.  “Down, boy,” he purred teasingly while stepping toward the massive ball of tawny fur, “I’m not going to hurt you and you know you certainly can’t hurt me.”  The beast snorted in a way Kihyun could only describe as derisive.  It never ceased to amaze him how this creature could be more expressive than its human counterpart.  “Oh, don’t look at me like that.  Just go and get Hyunwoo.  I promise I won’t look.”  The wolf regarded him skeptically.   “Oh my Azazel, I said I wouldn’t look.  I might thrive off lust but I do have some self-restraint. Do I need to paw-promise you or something?”  It let out a loud yip and lifted its front right paw.  Kihyun scowled.  This was absolutely degrading.  Nevertheless, he gripped the offered paw firmly.  “If you whisper a word of this to anyone else, I’ll skin you with my fingernails and find a way to impregnate Hyunwoo with a million little cambions, you brat,” he hissed threateningly.  All he got in response from the wolf was three short barks that resembled laughter before dropping its paw and trodding further back into the darkness.  Kihyun turned on his and rubbed his temples. Hell below, that was embarrassing. A few seconds of muffled shuffling passed before an awkward cough rang clear through the dusty air.  Kihyun turned around and greeted the very naked and very bemused Hyunwoo with a scowl.  The taller scratched the back of his neck as he apologized awkwardly, “Uh, I’m sorry about...all of...that.” Kihyun rolled his eyes, “Liar.  I could hear you laughing the entire time.” Hyunwoo flashed a sheepish smile before shifting his stance and crossing his arms.  “So, you wanted to see me?” “I do,” he confirmed with a solemn nod.  “We have to ensure every precaution has been taken and that includes further securing the grounds.” “But I’ve alr—“ “I know you have and I thank you for it. Just think of this as extra insurance, just in case.”  He reached into his pocket to fish out a golden chain on which hung a tiny glass vial filled with a dimly glowing liquid.  “Take this with you on your run.  One drop per stop should be enough, but you must make sure the circle is not broken.”  He handed it to Hyunwoo, who carefully cradled the vial in his palm.  “I would have told this to Fido-you, but I know his sense of smell is hypersensitive.” Hyunwoo’s eyes flicked up to meet his in sheer amazement.  “You mean to tell me this is—“ “Yes, it is.” “Wow...” Hyunwoo whistled as slipped the chain over his head to rest on his neck.  His brow suddenly knitted together in confusion.  “Wait, hold on.  How did you even manage to get this?” Kihyun smirked. “What happened to your strict policy on not inquiring about certain nefarious details that don’t necessarily concern you?” “I—,“ Hyunwoo huffed, “I mean, I still have it.  But you’re asking me to let my wolf run around with this,” he motioned to the vial, “dangling around his neck when it’s practically catnip laced with heroin to him.  So I think I have a right to know.” “You’re adorable when you pout,” Kihyun teased as he reached up to pat the pouting man’s cheeks.  Call him petty or vindicative (both of which he absolutely was) for enjoying seeing the other’s blatant embarrassment after what his wolf put him through earlier.  “But if you must know, I asked Jooheon.” Hyunwoo’s nose crinkled as he held up his hands, “Never mind, I don’t want to know.  I’m just going to pretend this isn’t what I know it is.  So if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a wolf to feed.  Again.”  With that, Hyunwoo offered a mock salute as he proudly marched past him and up to the door.  He flung open the door as he tossed a warm grin over his shoulder before bolting full speed ahead out into the wilderness behind the manor, towering muscular frame morphing seamlessly into that of an enormous canine whose fur gleamed a gorgeous gold-tinged chestnut in the bright sunlight.   Kihyun only shook his head at the sounds of the wolf’s delighted grunts of exertion as it tore through the woodland brush.   Hopefully, Hyunwoo would ruin his appetite so there’d be that much more left for him to enjoy.  With a rueful smirk, Kihyun closed his eyes and left himself fall forward through the floor. He was immediately surrounded by a garishly bright smattering of fluorescent pinks and neon yellows and electric greens and pulsing blues.  Nose wrinkled in disgust, he shook his head disapprovingly.  This just simply would not do.  Slowly he drew his arms in until they were outstretched before him, the shadows hooked on his fingertips flowing down like silk to dampen the cheery color scheme into something darker, something ominous, something much more befitting him. The hair on the nape of Jooheon’s neck snapped to attention as chills ripped down his body.  Something was wrong.  He pushed one of his headphones off his ear as he paused the song he’d been jamming to so he could better focus his attention on what he was hearing.  Or rather, what he wasn’t hearing.  Jooheon narrowed his eyes at the dulled colors of his studio.  The eerie silence and shifted mood would be off-putting to him on a normal basis, but not now because this was his dream.  He alone had sole dominion over his dreams.  He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply before exhaling, pushing hard against the darkness that had gathered around him as he breathed until bit by bit the colors regained their vibrancy.  Jooheon huffed triumphantly to himself, fingers securing the snug headphone back over his ear so he could resume listening to the music. Kihyun grinned down at the vampire.  Any other being would have let their subconscious fall victim to his little tease of a grand entrance.  Not Jooheon though.  Despite his cherubic face and warm disposition, there was an underlying current of edged grittiness and raw rage always swirling into an ever-growing maelstrom that Kihyun was just dying to dance in.  He was almost proud of the younger, the only thing stopping him of feeling that pride being his nonexistent heart.  More than anything though, he was happy to rise to Jooheon’s unwarily issued challenge.  Kihyun drew the shadows once more over the scene and him.  Under the cover of the heavy darkness, he let himself slip out of his skin. Jooheon’s brow furrowed deeper than before at the sudden resurgence of darkness.  He pushed his headphones off entirely as he spun to face away from his desk.  He was not in the mood to deal with his brain’s bul— “Aw, hi baby!” he cooed sweetly at the chubby chihuahua waddling up to his feet.  Jooheon stooped over to scoop the puppy up so he could hold it against his chest, nuzzling his cheek against its furry head.  He pulled back to look the small dog over for a moment.  “You know,” he began softly, still smiling sweetly at the little bundle of fur, “you look a lot like Sanche.  I miss that stubborn, little guy so much sometimes.”  He sighed wistfully as memories of puppies gone by played in his mi— One, two, the devil’s coming for you... Jooheon’s unbeating heart skidded to a metaphorical halt.  What the actual fuck. Three, four, should’ve locked your door... Jooheon’s jaw dropped to the floor. Five, six, where’s your crucifix? Okay, he knew his mind could play tricks on him during his dream, but this?  This was a whole new level of fucked up. Seven, eight, think I’ll grab a stake... The dog— The fucking dog was SINGING to him!!!  Jooheon dropped the evil bitch and clambered up onto his desk to get away from it.  “SHUT UP!” he screeched at the top of his lungs. “SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP!” Nine, ten, your Gucci’s fake... Jooheon stopped screaming.  Instead, he jumped off his desk to crouch down in the furry creature’s stupid face and hiss vehemently, “Fuck you, Kihyun.”  A sharp, grating cackle floated through the air as the chihuahua just stared innocently at him, though its tail wagged excitedly behind it.  “I really hate you sometimes, you demonic bastard,” Jooheon griped as he rose to his feet.  The chihuahua yipped excitedly twice before vanishing into thin air. “You have to admit,” Kihyun began with a wicked smirk, “that was absolutely hilarious.” Jooheon glanced up to the ceiling and narrowed his eyes at the demonic asshole standing upside down on it.  “No, it wasn’t.  It was fucking creepy.  I’ll never be able to look at Sanche the same way ever again.” “You’re welcome,” Kihyun chuckled. “I didn’t ask for it,” Jooheon huffed with a pout. “Why are you even in my dream anyway?  I thought I wasn’t your type or whatever.” “Everyone’s my type,” Kihyun shrugged simply, “I just don’t particularly feel anything when it comes to your bloodlust.  But...” he stretched out a hand to rake his fingertips through the younger’s silvery locks, “...I could make an exception if you’d like.” Jooheon’s face scrunched up with distaste, “Uh, no thank you.  It’s enough dealing with you when you’re not trying to leech off my life force.” “Says the leech,” Kihyun dismissed with a roll of his eyes. “To the other leech,” Jooheon fired back sassily as he crossed his arms over his chest.  “Now, answer my question or get outta my head.” “So testy, and over such a harmless prank.  Tsk, tsk,” Kihyun chastised sarcastically with a click of his teeth.  Nevertheless, he pushed off the ceiling in a flip to land on his feet right-side up in front of the other.  “I’m here just to double-check you’ve had the snack I left for you.” Now it was Jooheon’s turn to roll his eyes.  “If I had, I wouldn’t have been resting so peacefully.  Besides, you could have just gone into my mausoleum to check.  It’s not like you needed my permis—“ “Hyunwoo’s out taking his wolf for a walk,” Kihyun interrupted.  “You know how territorial he can get, especially since he’s got the vial.  I know I don’t need my physical body, but I quite enjoy having it.  Makes things convenient.  And you know what else is convenient?  Me being able to waltz into your dream.” “How you can be so anal retentive about almost everything yet so willing to cut so many corners is something I don’t think I’ll ever stand.” “Confusion is in my metaphorical DNA.”  Kihyun stepped forward to grip the younger’s shoulders, mood suddenly turning serious with his action.  “All my contradictory complexities aside, I needed to speak with you privately away from everyone and I couldn’t wait until dusk for you to wake.  I need you to take the drop as soon as you can.  Hoseok is up to something and I suspect it might interfere with tonight’s festivities.  I hope this is one of the rare times I’m wrong, but I have to be prepared.  So I need you.  I need you to do what I unfortunately can’t in case the moment should arise.” Jooheon nodded solemnly, “I understand.”

[theresnosafeharbor4myships]

@mel-loves-all asked me to write about the Caryl nuzzle scene in the trailer.  I started meta (which I still have and will post when I finish), but this also happened, and I’m so sorry. (Also on 9L)

The Only Ones

Carol rounded the warehouse and headed toward the loading dock, her eyes peeled and one hand on the hilt of her knife tucked against her hip. The night sat dark and heavy around her, and only the moonlight bleeding through the clouds allowed her to see where she walked.

She’d looked everywhere for him until, finally, Jerry told her he’d spotted Daryl stalking off to the warehouse in the corner of the compound. Some of the tightness in her chest eased up, and she realized fear had tangled with the mourning in her chest.

She saw him in the blue starlight, a forlorn man with the weight of the world atop those broad, scarred shoulders. He sat on the cement dock, legs dangling loosely off and leaning back on his arms, head tilted toward the silent, ethereal heavens, eyes closed against the horrors visiting them this night.

Moving soundlessly like he’d taught her eons ago, Carol moved up the steps at the far end of the dock, though she knew he knew of her presence.

She neared him slowly, the fear of before gone now that she feasted her eyes on his breathing form. Grief sat heavy upon him, his expression drawn, his throat moving as he swallowed hard, anticipating confirmation of the inevitable.

He knew.  They all did.

She blinked away the pools in her eyes, wishing for this quiet moment under different circumstances. Not grief-stricken, not delivering a final blow, not the bearer of this, not the town crier of such devastation on their already weathered and broken souls.

Still...she would be the one to tell him, and they would share their bereavement together.

She stopped a few feet from him, attuned to the waves of sorrow flowing from him. She’d give him his space, but she still needed to be here, with him. And he needed her.

“He’s gone.”

She already knew.  Had known for the past half hour, but somehow the words fell like a cartoon anvil, weighty, devastating, breaking and fracturing while keeping its victims—her. Daryl.—alive. She let her shoulders slump under the pressure.

Daryl sat motionless for several beats, finally drawing his eyes down from the sky to focus on the ground in front of him before nodding slowly. Another few moments of silent, searing pain, the yawning cavern of loss shared between them, before he pulled himself up and patted the seat next to him.

She welcomed the gesture, not realizing how badly she, too, needed comfort until he offered it. Leaving no room between them, she sat, wanting desperately to fall apart and needing even more to keep it together.

Neither spoke, and Carol tried to focus on the untouched world instead of the misery swirling between them. A soft breeze filtered through the air. An owl hooted somewhere in the trees beyond their vision, and lazy clouds obscured the moonlight before moving on, but they didn’t move.  Breathing in, breathing out, somehow the world kept turning, as hellish and forlorn as before, unaware of how dark and bereft it’d once again left them.

“How’s ‘Chonne?” His voice tinged with ache, he pushed the words out.

Carol swallowed hard, trying to make the muscles move, to form words around the chasm in her throat. “About how I’d be if I lost you.”

She hadn’t meant to admit her feelings, not like this—the timing couldn’t be worse—but the whispery, visceral response came unbidden and genuine. She knew, as easily as she drew her next breath, the truth of it.

He slowly turned to look at her, and for the first time since she’d met him, she dreaded his gaze. He stared until she drew her eyes up to meet his, but instead of reproach or surprise, she read understanding, acceptance.  Even reciprocation.

Her heart, raw and aching but beating, skipped, and the air thrummed around her, a vicious mixture of hurt, want, desolation, and desire.

Daryl held her gaze, watching emotions play across her face, and finally nodded in agreement. A small smiled eased up one corner of her mouth, then she pulled her feet up, wrapped her arms around his, and lay her head on his shoulder.

It felt strange, this moment so full of promise and heartache, though not at all what she’d been seeking while searching for him. Neither knew how to express sorrow in the company of others, but this…this night they would share it only with each other.

She snuggled against him, the warmth of his body and the power of his presence her only protection against the horrors of navigating the depth of this grief alone. No one else could possibly understand.

Daryl nuzzled against Carol, her hair soft and silky against his cheek, his neck.  His lips as he turned and kissed the crown of her head.

“We’re the last ones, Daryl.”

His breath caught in his throat at the agony in her whisper. He cleared his throat to rid it of despair before he spoke. “Nah, we ain’t.  We got Michonne and Maggie. Baby Glenn and Judith. Still got Rosita and Tara and—”

“Not from home,” she broke in. “Not from the beginning. From Atlanta.  You’re the only one who…”

She paused so long he thought she’d dropped the topic. He took her hands in his left one and withdrew his right arm from her grasp to wrap it around her shoulders, drawing her closer to him.

“You’re the only one who met Sophia,” she finally stated, her voice wavering. “You helped me…when she was gone. Taught me how to survive without her.”

“You knew how…I just provided food.”

“It’s not important now, but…no one else knows what it was like for me before. Or for you.” She turned her head and kissed his shoulder at the thought of his big brother, so much like the bastard she’d married. “You remember them? Amy and Andrea? Jim and Jenner? T and Lori?” Her voice cracked at the last, and she inhaled sharply to arrest the threatening tears.

“’Course.” He didn’t know what else to say, so he sat quietly, his thumb gently rubbing her wrist.

The truth of her words knocked him breathless. They were the only ones. The Atlanta two. The last of the originals. None of the others had met Carol’s ex—lucky them—or watched as she took her swings at his body. Had seen Carl and Sophia laugh and play together or met Glenn when he stepped off T-Dog’s church bus. Maggie and Michonne had met Merle, but only Carol knew how he’d cried when he’d had to put down his walker. Only he had sat with Carol in her silent agony after Sophia and again after she’d come back to him after the girls were gone. She alone knew how inept he’d felt losing Beth, the one kid in his charge he couldn’t keep alive.

Now this….Rick….gone.

He wouldn’t—couldn’t—allow anyone else this close to his pain. Except her.

He pulled her tighter to his side, both needing her closer and assuring himself he wasn’t alone. He couldn’t be, not with this. They’d followed Rick, a brother closer than his own, from the beginning, mistakes and all. Miles and memories and places that’d felt more like home than anywhere he’d lived as a child. Friends and family and people he had lived with and would die for. And through it all, he’d had Rick and Carol. And now….now Carol remained. He couldn’t do this without her.

He heaved in a deep breath, overcome by the grief at their loss and altogether grateful for the woman at his side.

“I never thought….it hurts so much.”

Carol’s whisper caused tears to sting his eyes, and he let them fall, finding solace the only way he knew how: holding close the only one who knew the depths of his sorrow.

[casuallydeliciousphilosopher]

9

Prompt #9: “You’re in love with her.” Requested by @gucci–kisses ! 

Hey there! Sorry that this took so long! Life’s a bitch, lol. Anyways, I was originally going to do a Trixifer scene with this line, but I decided that it was a little too simple, and so we have this mess. Seriously, I don’t even know what this is anymore??? Anyways, this takes place somewhere in the late second season :)

The ringing sound of a gunshot was the last thing Lucifer heard before everything went blindingly white for a brief moment. His eyes adjusted to the brightness a moment later; but instead of the tall, dark outcroppings of rock he’d been expecting, he was surrounded by open sky, a vast, illustrious, silver-tinged city stretched out before him that was practically radiating light. He quickly glanced around himself, turning in a circle as he tried to determine if this was actually happening; and that’s when he noticed the added weight on his back, the angelic robes clinging to his body. It was easier than he’d like to admit to forget about the shootout that the Detective was currently facing, the anger coursing through his veins driving every deliberate step he took towards the unchanged city before him. He made his way through the sterile and abandoned streets with ease, still remembering every turn and alley even after all of the eons that had passed.

It wasn’t long before he stood in front of the tallest building, the white spire jutting so far up into the sky that the tip was practically indiscernible. He stalked towards the wide double doors before him, the seraphs guarding the entrance shrinking away from his presence almost instinctively. Lucifer pressed his hands against the cool white metal before pushing both doors open with enough force to send them banging into the walls behind them, stepping inside of his father’s throne room as several sets of eyes settled on him. He ignored the glare that Michael was sending his way, and the look of blatant surprise on Gabriel’s face as he stalked towards the golden throne his father sat upon. “You bastard,” Lucifer growled as he closed the distance resting between himself and his father, each of his footsteps ringing through the silent room.  

“Well, hello to you too, Samael,” God replied as he stood, his white robes shifting across his hazelnut skin and his metallic silver hair glinting in the light as he moved.

Lucifer grit his teeth at the use of his old name as he ascended the few stairs leading to the throne, coming to a stop in front of his father as he glared down at the shorter man. “Why am I here?” He questioned, his voice deceivingly calm as his fingers twitched at his sides. He didn’t know what his father had planned, but there was no way that any good could possibly come from it.

“You died,” God replied with a lighthearted chuckle, his glowing silver eyes twinkling with something that was almost mischievous.

“Why am I in heaven?” Lucifer growled as he took a menacing step towards his father, immediately causing Michael to reach for his sword until God held a single hand out towards the archangel, instantly making him pause.

“Because, son, I’m finally beginning to realize how entirely dense you are.” The deity answered before reaching out towards the fallen angel, only to have his hand batted away. God let out a hefty sigh before he spoke up once more, “We need to talk, and since you wouldn’t listen to me when we met in that mental hospital, this seemed most prudent.”.

Lucifer faltered at his father’s words, his mouth dropping open as his defenses fell for a brief moment. “That was really you?” He questioned quietly, his eyes following his father’s movements with piercing calculation as he tried to find any hint of falsity in the claim.

“Only part of me,” God answered nonchalantly, before immediately continuing, “I’d have killed the human if I took full control.”.

Lucifer swallowed at the words, his throat suddenly dry at the confession. “Did you mean it?” He questioned, his voice shaking slightly from the desperation as he recalled the exact words ‘God’ Johnson had said to him at the mental hospital not too long ago. “When you said that you were proud of the man I’d become.” Lucifer continued, his voice threatening to crack over the simple words as he tried his best to choke back the pathetic emotions that were simmering just under the surface. “That you were sorry, for rejecting me when I needed you the most.” He growled, his voice growing callous and accusatory as fire lit up his eyes and he took another step towards his father, the two of them practically standing chest to chest.

God swallowed thickly, the sound echoing throughout the room before he answered, “I meant it.”. Lucifer drew in a shuddering breath at his father’s words, something deep inside of him soothing at the admission. “Every word.” His father added, his voice holding a melancholy note of what almost sounded like remorse.

“Then why?” Lucifer questioned, his voice almost defeated sounding as he spoke.

A confused look quickly flitted across God’s face before his voice broke the quiet, “Why what?”.

“Why did you make Chloe and put her in my path?” Lucifer growled, all of his abandoned anger and resentment flooding back in an instant. “Why are you still torturing me?” He snarled, his feathers bristling as his hands clenched into fists at his sides and his eyes flashed red once again.

God’s expression quickly changed, a look of understanding flooding across his face as he nodded softly. “Ah, yes. Chloe Jane Decker.” He murmured more to himself than anyone else. “You know, she’s mainly the reason you’re here talking to me at the moment.” He added as his eyes flicked up to meet his son’s fiery gaze. “We should probably check on her, shouldn’t we?” He questioned before snapping his fingers, the shimmering silver curtains behind his throne suddenly emblazoned with a view of earth. Lucifer swallowed thickly as the warehouse quickly filled the wall; a perfect image of Chloe hiding behind the same wooden crates he’d died by only a few moments ago, the sound of gunfire ringing through the room as though he was still alive and beside her.

“Lucifer.” She choked out as she stared at his lifeless body, her hands flitting across his bloodstained neck as they clearly sought out a pulse. She searched for it almost frantically, her fingers pressing deep into the side of his neck as she sought out any sign of life. It was obvious when she finally realized that there was none, her hand pulling away slowly as her eyes began watering. “No.” She breathed as her eyes locked on the slick, dark red blood coating her fingers. “No, no, no.” She muttered, her voice cracking on the quiet words as she frantically tried to wipe the liquid off on her jeans, only serving to spread the mess further across her hand as tears began streaking down her face. Gunshots echoed through the room a moment later, making her flinch back into the boxes as the wood above her splintered.

“Turn it off,” Lucifer growled, immediately drawing the gaze of his father and his siblings away from the image as all three of them stared at him.

“I think this is something you need to see,” God replied a moment later as the image of Chloe returning fire filled the wall. “You know, as far as you come, you are still so self-absorbed.” He muttered just loud enough for everyone to hear as he shook his head, his expression the embodiment of a disappointed father. “You think that everything is about you,” God continued, his voice growing more commanding as it boomed over the sound of gunshots. “This woman has multiple purposes, and they don’t all revolve around you.” He growled, his voice shaking as he pointed to the image behind him. Lucifer almost found himself quivering at the raw power flowing off of his father; but he wasn’t young, naive Samael anymore, he would not bow so easily. He watched as his father composed himself a second later, soothing his hands over his robes before continuing. “Her biggest purpose was her child, ‘the spawn’, as I believe you call her.”. Lucifer’s mouth fell open slightly at the admission as he tried to figure out whether or not there was any falsity to his father’s words. “Beatrice Decker has a very important life ahead of herself,” God explained, a fond smile filling his face for a moment before it dulled, his piercing eyes meeting Lucifer’s as his mouth began to purse into a thin line.

“Even though Chloe was designed with you in mind, she was never designed for you specifically,” God explained, his voice tense as he slowly began to step around Lucifer. “Did you know that I keep a feather from every angel I’ve ever created?” He questioned curiously as he continued to step around his son, slowly walking a circle around the fallen angel. Lucifer felt his mouth turn down into a frown as he silently wondered why his father was sharing this information with him; what did he care if his father had one of his old feathers laying around somewhere collecting dust? “Well, they were feathers once upon a time,” God chuckled, and the mirth in his voice immediately set several red flags off in Lucifer’s head. The fallen angel quickly turned around to face his father, pulling his gaze from the image of backup officers finally arriving to help Chloe with the gunfight. The two celestials held each other’s gaze almost like a standoff before God’s voice broke the quiet, “They’re all souls now.”.

Lucifer’s eyebrows drew together at the new information as he tried to figure out what his father was hoping to achieve by divulging this information. God simply smiled at his son’s reaction before continuing to step around him, waiting for something to click in the fallen angel’s head. “As I’m sure you can imagine, such a soul would be immune to the angel it once came from.” He added, hoping that a nudge in the right direction would spur the connection he was waiting for. God smirked the moment he caught the way that Lucifer’s eyes flicked to the image of Chloe on the wall in front of him before immediately settling on him again. “It would share the same underlying traits; the intelligence, the instincts, the drive to make sure that guilty are punished and the innocent are protected,” God clarified, and Lucifer swallowed thickly at the words as his father came to a stop beside him, holding his hands behind his back as he stared at the image of Chloe on the wall as Dan rushed over to embrace her. “Yet, despite the similarities, they would still be different. Different enough to compliment each other; one could be patient while one could be quick to anger, one could be forgiving while the other could be grudging…” God trailed off as Dan pulled back from Chloe slightly, his hands running down her arms before he spoke.

“Chlo, where’s Lucifer?” Dan’s eyebrows knitted together as he spoke, his eyes flicking across the warehouse as he looked for any sign of the man.

“Lucifer,” Chloe murmured, her eyes growing distant and watery as she swallowed thickly before shaking her head, her hands clutching Dan’s jacket until her knuckles were white. “He…he saved my life,” She choked out, her voice breaking on the words as a few tears escaped her eyes. A sudden look of melancholy understanding came over Dan’s face before he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into him again.

“One could love others deeply while the other is too frightened to accept their own emotions, let alone the emotions of another,” God’s cold voice cut over the sound of Daniel’s quiet reassurances as he rubbed Chloe’s back. Lucifer swallowed thickly as he pulled his gaze from the images before him, unable to watch the Detective fall apart over his death any longer. “But, as compatible as such a soul would be with the angel it came from, it would be dangerous. Capable of killing said angel, if the need arose for me to use that soul in such a way,” God added, and Lucifer narrowed his eyes slightly as he stiffened.

“My vulnerability,” Lucifer murmured quietly, watching as a soft smile graced his father’s face at his words. Suddenly everything made sense, the way he’d always felt drawn to her, the way she always seemed to shine brighter than anyone else, the way she’d been able to get him to lower his defenses so quickly.

“As Eve was created from Adam’s rib, Chloe’s soul was created from one of your feathers,” God stated, knowing that if he didn’t say it word for word his son would try to find a way to disqualify the merit of this conversation.

Lucifer stared at the ground as he tried to figure out what the point was. His father never did anything without reason, surely there was something bigger at play here, there had to be. Chloe was created to be able to hurt him, but she was also created to compliment him. He felt a hot surge of anger flow through him as he realized that Chloe had truly been nothing more than his father’s pawn, a tool to be used to either manipulate him or end his life. “So that’s it? She only ever had two options, kill me or care for me?” Lucifer growled as he took a menacing step towards his father.

“Samael,” God sighed, his annoyance practically palatable. “Nothing is black or white, everything is gray.” He stated matter-of-factly before quickly continuing, “I can’t control souls, I can simply choose what environment they draw life experiences from. I put Chloe in the hands of John and Penelope Decker in hopes that her father’s strong morals would rub off on her, that her mother’s carefree attitude might help her naturally purpose driven soul to loosen up a little.”. Lucifer tried to find the lie in his father’s words, but he knew that it was the truth. His father would be able to command the power that a feather held, he’d be able to shape it and form it as he pleased, but he wouldn’t have any real influence over it after he turned it into a human soul. “At least the morals rubbed off,” God chuckled quietly, seemingly finding some amusement in the statement as he pulled Lucifer out of his thoughts.

“I put her in an environment that I believed would make it more likely for the two of you to possibly be together, if that’s what both of you chose,” God explained, his voice growing soft as his sparkling gaze met his sons. “I could have put her in a lesser environment, one that might have made her more likely to kill others in cold blood.” He added with a shrug, and Lucifer felt annoyance bubble under his skin at the words.

“You mean to kill me in cold blood,” Lucifer spat, earning no reaction from his father.

“But I didn’t,” God stated simply, quirking a single eyebrow as he spoke. “She has free will, she has a choice, just as you do.” He added simply before his expression darkened dangerously. “If you think back far enough I’m certain you’ll remember that even though Eve was created from Adam and for Adam she had the ability and the will to choose a different partner over him,” God’s voice grew scolding as Lucifer swallowed nervously at the display of emotion. Apparently, his father still hadn’t gotten over the tryst he’d had with Eve back in the day. “Chloe has that ability as well.” He added, his voice growing kinder as his eyes softened slightly. “She will move on son, you will lose her to another if you continue to neglect her.” Lucifer shifted at the words, trying to ignore the straining feeling those words sent spiraling through his core.

“She still loves you, for some inexplicable reason,” God murmured as he watched the image on the wall before him play out; the morticians loading Lucifer’s dead body onto a stretcher as Chloe tried to follow after them. The way she desperately tried to keep hold of her grasp on his pale hand before Dan pulled her away from the body. “And you know it, deep down in your heart, even though you refuse to acknowledge it, that you’re in love with her as well.” He spoke as he turned to face his son, stepping in front of the fallen angel and drawing his gaze away from the wall. “It truly is a pity that you’re too dead to tell her that now,” God muttered, his voice grave.

Lucifer’s mouth fell open at his father’s words, his eyebrows drawing together as he desperately tried to think of the right words to persuade his father to send him back, even if it was only for a few sparse minutes. “The look on your face!” God snickered, a sudden grin quickly exterminating his serious expression as his deep booming laughter filled the room. Lucifer took a small step back as he tried to figure out whether or not his father had lost his mind, but God was speaking up before he could put much distance between the two of them. “I’m going to do you a favor, Samael. In hopes that it might, in some small way, make up for the actions I took against you in the past.” His father spoke as he reached out, resting his hands on Lucifer’s shoulders as his expression turned serious once more. “Don’t take this lightly, embrace your second chance for everything it’s worth,” God warned, pulling his son down slightly before pressing his lips against the fallen angel’s forehead.

One second Lucifer was standing in the throne room of heaven, and the next second he was falling all over again. The wind rustling his robes and his feathers as he quickly descended, it took him a second to get his bearing before realizing that the ground was approaching at a dangerously fast pace. He didn’t have the time to will his wings to carry him into the sky, so he settled for pulling one of them around himself just seconds before he hit the ground. This time he didn’t go crashing through the earth’s surface, he wound up skidding against the rough pavement before coming to a stop, groaning at the jarring stab of pain.

“What the fuck!” Daniel’s scared voice was the first sound that reached the fallen angel’s ears as he slowly pushed himself up with an arm.

“And just when I think our relationship might be on the mend you have to go and make me fall! Again!” Lucifer shouted at the sky as he stood, small bits of loose gravel falling from his robes as he mentally took stock of the fact that at least he hadn’t broken anything. He glanced over at the scrambling sound to his right, watching as Daniel pushed Chloe behind himself. His throat tightened at the sudden revelation that they were both now clearly in the know, but he tried not to panic at the thought of both of the humans standing before him rejecting him as he slowly turned to face them.

Lucifer’s hopes were effectively dashed when Daniel quickly reached down to his side, drawing his gun and pointing it at him. “Now, now, Daniel, let’s not get hasty,” Lucifer began as he lifted a single hand towards the officer in a motion of surrender. “I’m not sure how many times I can persuade dear old dad to resurrect me.” He chuckled, hoping to snap Dan out of his shock. He gave up on the notion of calming the officer a moment later, his hand falling down to his side as he tried to ignore the obvious look of fear laced across Dan’s face. Surely Chloe wasn’t faring any better, the thought made his stomach churn as he let out a sigh and accepted the inevitable end of both relationships. He scowled as he spread his wings, grateful for the fact that they weren’t broken, even if a few of his primaries had been scuffed up.

“Who are you? What did you do to Lucifer?” Dan shouted, his voice shaking.

Lucifer didn’t bother to look up at the question, unwilling to see the distrust and hatred that he was certain would be evident in Dan’s expression. “Seriously? Do you need to see an optometrist?” He questioned as he shook his wings out, more small bits of gravel cascading to the ground before he tucked them away, willing them into another plane of existence. “I am Lucifer.” He stated as he forced himself to look up, watching as Daniel slowly relaxed his arms his gun slowly drifting down to point at the ground as surprise and understanding washed across his face. Chloe stepped out from behind him a moment later, and Lucifer felt his heart miss a beat as his gaze settled on her wide eyes.

“You’re really…the Lucifer,” Dan muttered quietly, but the fallen angel paid him no attention as he stepped forward, desperate to feel Chloe under his hands, to make sure that no harm had come to her during the shootout. “Stop,” Dan ordered, his gun suddenly rising once again, his aim focused solely on the devil.

Lucifer gritted his teeth as he slowly lifted both of his hands. “Would it calm you down a bit if I said all of that ‘be not afraid my child for I mean you no harm’ nonsense?” He asked coldly, quickly growing tired of having his life threatened so soon after it had just been restored. “I mean, if I wanted to hurt you I would have a long time ago.” He added grumpily before immediately continuing, “You are very annoying.”. The look of anger that flashed across Dan’s face disappeared the moment that Chloe stepped around him, slowly closing the distance resting between herself and Lucifer as the devil’s hands slowly drifted back down to his sides. 

“Lucifer?” Chloe murmured, her voice easily cutting through the tense silence. “You’re really…” She trailed off as she stopped in front of him, her hands slowly reaching out before she touched his arms. “You’re really here.” Her voice grew stronger as her eyes flicked up to meet his as her hands continued to roam his body. Lucifer swallowed nervously at her reaction, waiting for the hammer to fall and for her to run away screaming. “You’re alive.” The words were choked, her eyes growing wet as she reached up and rested a hand against his cheek.

Lucifer fought the urge to cover her hand with his own as he spoke up, “Well, you know what they say.”. He watched as her eyebrows drew together just before he continued, “Can’t keep a good devil down.” He chuckled, immediately defaulting to humor in an attempt to escape the horrible anxiety churning his stomach.

“You’re really the devil,” Chloe stated quietly, and Lucifer swallowed nervously as he watched a myriad of complex emotions flicker across her face one after another.

“I’ve always been the devil. I’m still me,” Lucifer breathed, silently imploring her to believe him. What was the point of being alive again if she refused to allow him near? “Nothing’s changed.” He added, swallowing as Chloe’s expression quickly became unreadable. “Well, except for the wings, but, other than tha—” Lucifer was silenced before he could finish, Chloe’s arms suddenly wrapping around him as she buried her face in his chest.

“Thank God you’re okay.” Her muffled voice reached his ears and he couldn’t help but smile softly as he slowly wrapped his arms around her slight frame, burying his nose in her hair as he breathed her in. A sudden swell of hope flowing through his veins at the feeling of her in his arms.

“Yes, well, I suppose He does deserve a little gratitude for this,” Lucifer muttered quietly, drawing a snort from his detective that made a smile light up his face. He wasn’t sure how long the two of them stood there before she pulled away, the wet streaks trailing down her face sparking in the sunlight before he brought a hand up to wipe them away. He marveled at the way she didn’t flinch from his touch, and before he knew that he was doing his thumb had drifted lower, brushing lightly over her lower lip. He pulled away as soon as he realized what he was doing, clearing his throat as he let his hand fall back down to his side. “Your guardian angel has officially returned.” He quipped with a smile, drawing a peal of bright laughter from her as she grabbed his hand before dragging him over to the black patrol car. And with every step he took, Lucifer silently thanked his father and swore to himself that we certainly wasn’t going to let his second chance escape him.

[eriktheswift]

The Holloween Tree (four years later)

Part I: The Kids

It was a small town by a small river and small lake somewhere in the world. Not Earth, just the world. Four adolescent teenagers showed up at the only four-way junction in the small town they live in. They call it “the spot,” though there are indeed many other such “spots” that they use throughout the neighborhood.

One of them, a sketelot, jumped off his skateboard, letting it roll across the quiet road, to hit the shins of his friend, the hoar.

“Oh my gosh, ah, that hurts guys,” he exclaimed, almost automatically.

“Sorry, Wally.” This was the Which talking. She was speaking for Tom, because she was not sorry. Neither was Tom.

The fourth member of the group pushed up his glasses, shoved his cellphone back into his pocket, flicked his bright green mohawk out of his face, and said “Yo, why’re we here again?” He was dressed as a zombie.

Tom addressed the situation. “Guys, don’t you remember? Today’s holloween! We have to go trick or treating like we’ve always done, pretending everything’s like it was.”

“Uhh, yeah duh,” Jerry the zombie said. “I got your text. Just why’re we here? Shouldn’t we be with Pip or something?”

“Oh my gosh yes! Where is he? He should be here by now! He’s never late, especially on hal-“

“Shut up Wally,” Tom stated.

Soon after, they all met at Pip’s house. Jenny was on the skateboard now*. Pip’s house was as dark as the forest that surrounded it. No pumpkins, no lights, no candy, no popcorn. Something was definitely wrong.

Tom said what was on everybody’s mind. “Something is definitely wrong here.”

They spotted a note on the door. It said: ‘Hey guys. If you’re reading this, then all went according to plan. I’m sorry I couldn’t say goodbye to you in person, but it would’ve been too predictable. Well, you go on without me. Don’t worry about me. Ready, set, go?’

“Wait,” Jenny began. “How old were we when we saved Pip?”

Jerry piped in. “I dunno how old we were, but that was four years ago this very night. Just sayin.”

“K’mon guys,” Tom said. “Let’s face it. Pipkin’s dead again. And there’s only one place for us to go.”

*Jenny, dressed as the Which, has obligations to be on a portable vehicle of some kind, to give her broomstick some appearance of flight. She’s quite good at it, having some practice a few years back when her and Tom were dating. She had a skateboard herself, but after breaking up with Tom, decided to ‘break up’ her love for him. Literally. They’re on speaking terms now, albeit fragile terms. As for her bike, she outgrew it four years ago. Now her hobby is jogging.

Part II: Moundshroud

The stormy clouds of October made an uncertain look to them, stars peeking through them, then quickly hiding again. Somehow, no matter how accurate you measured the moon, it seemed to grow larger and deeper in details every minute that ticked closer to midnight. Down through the forest they went, a kind of wind chilling their bones. Double the chill for Tom. He was twice as bony.

Long story short, they met Moundshroud again. “And just what do you want this time, Sketelot?,” went the creaky voice of Leonard Nimoy.

Wally began to say “We’re here for-“

“QUIET. I wasn’t talking to you, Tubby.” He peered a leering eye at Tom, half annoyed, half intrigued.

“Well,” Tom began. The presence of The Moundshroud was always a little frightening, for those with enough wit to know why. “We’re here for,” he glanced at Wally. “We wanna know where Pipkin is.”

“Ahh, that meddler! Yes, it’s as I should’ve known. You want to save the boy who’s worth more than your lives, hmm?”

Jenny crossed her arms. “That’s right.”

“Mmh, pity.” The pale-green face of a squash whipped his nose 180˚ around, drawing up his cape as black as pitch. He stormed out of the main room, leaving the four in an awkward silence. They heard various rummages in the back, followed by a “Hmph” Moundshroud came back, dragging with him a tattered old carpet. “Yes, his time is due alright. Unfortunately, he’s managed to plan his escape somewhat flawlessly. Somewhat flawless, I say,” He clarified. “He must’ve gotten word of his, ehem, planned ordeal four years ahead of time.” His nose pointed guiltily at the teenagers. “Ah well. Same deal as before, I assume?”

The kids exchanged slightly nervous glances. They each nodded in turn.

Moundshroud flung the mildew carpet on the ground, letting it slowly unravel itself and hover an inch above the hardwood floor. “What say you we begin our little hunt, ehh? Ready for another adventure worth a thousand generations, through time and space?” He jeered into each of their souls, ever so briefly. “Hm, me neither.”

Part III: Pipkin

To what seemed like a literal eternity for the teenagers was merely a blink of an eye to an outside observer. After seven continents and four dozen pyramids of adventure, Pipkin’s last desperate voice cried out, as his soul was finally captured by Moundshroud. Jenny’s voice crackled in Tom’s ear. “Okay, Tommy. Show’s over, nice job.” Tom engaged his thrusters and leaped back up the cliffside. Jerry’s arm shot down a vulturaptor that was following Tom’s tail.

Back at base, Moundshroud held up the weathered old pumpkin of Pipkin. “Well well, mine at last. You kids did a fine job, aye, fine indeed!”

Tom slurped some of Wally’s ‘Vulturaptor soup special’ and gave Moundshroud a look. “But wait, he’s not yours yet. We made a deal, remember?”

“Hmm? Deal? Ahh yes, hmm, beg pardon. Now what was it exactly?”

Tom washed the soup down with a swig of swill and stood up. “One year. From all of us.”

Moundshroud asked, “Was that one year from each of you?” His eyes blinked black.

The crowd of three shifted behind Tom.

Tom gulped noisily. “That’s right.”

The Pumpkin Manager smiled in a way they haven’t seen before, even through all the countless eons they spent hunting Pipkin with him. “I’m sorry kids, but that’s not enough.”

All teens unanimously said. “What?”

“You see,” He began. “You’re not holding up your end of the bargain.” He pointed at Wally. “You. You don’t have enough to give me. All you can spare is three months.”

Wally’s face turned beet red, then struck open into a ghastly white. All eyes were on him. “Oh my gosh, oh my goshohmygoshohmyhoghugmygosh…”

“Well great,” Tom said, darkness in his eyes. “Now Pipkin’s not gonna live as long, on account of Wally’s stupid choices shortening his life!” A bitter hatred flared up.

Wally began to recover. “Well, gee. I-I can’t spend anymore time for Pip. As it is, he’s gonna-“

“You’re pathetic.” This was Tom again. The hate remained. “It’s just the thing I’d expect from you. Don’t you know why we sacrificed our time for Pipkin? It’s because he matters. He matters more than any of us, especially YOU.”

“Oh, gosh Tom. I thought we were friends…” Wally innocently murmured.

“We were never friends. That’s why I always met up at our spot across the street from you. But we’re next-door neighbors. If it weren’t for Pipkin, I’d never hang around with you.” He sighed away the demonic anger. “But he always found time for us. Even you. All my life, I’ve always wanted to be just like Pipkin, just as jovial, just as meaningful, just as forgiving. He was the best. He IS the best. And he can always be here for us, just for a little bit longer. Just a few more months. Just to tell him that I…that I…” His eyes glistened with tears.

Jenny rolled her eyes. This is why we broke up.

Jerry stepped down. “Eesh. Look, I never had a prob with Wally here.” Wally gave him a trembly smile. “So if he don’t wanna sacrifice his life for Pip, well, neither will I.”

Tom darted his red eyes at Jerry. “That’s because you haven’t even done it before. You weren’t THERE the first time! If Ralph never moved away-“

“Oh, so THAT’S what this is about, is it?” Jerry spat. “Gonna pin the blame on me now as well, just because I’m not agreeing with your plan, now is that it? I’m just the second-rate, Johnny-come-late friend, who’s only known Pip for two years instead of five! Big deal!”

“Six,” said Tom. “And you’ve never been a replacement. You could never replace Ralph. Besides, your name is so confusing. I mean, it’s only two letters away from Jenny.”

Jenny stopped rolling her eyes. “He’s got a point, you know.” She blew bubblegum out of her mouth.

“ENOUGH!” Moundshroud extended his arm-capes in a fiery scowl. “I have all the time in the world and I’m not going to spend it on listening to your bickering and bitching. Are you in or out?”

Jerry took a step back. Wally just sat there, mouthing a certain phrase over and over. Jenny crossed her arms. Tom opened his mouth. “Okay. I’m still in.”

“One year from the end of your timeline, in exchange for a year of Pipkin’s life?”

“Well, no.”

“NO?!” Moundshroud’s face got really close.

“You see, I was thinking now more like…six months.”

The Wizard of Time leaned back. Almost disappointedly adding, “You’d do that for him?”

Tom gulped noisily again. Twice. “Yes.”

Jenny popped into the conversation. “Err, I’ll add three months.” Moundshroud blinked.

“What are you doing Jenny?,” the Sketelot said. “If you’re gonna participate, you gotta do six months. Make it a full year.”

Jenny the Which thought about it, shrugged, then thought again. She crossed her arms. “Fuck you Tom. You do it.”

In the end, Jenny agreed to give Pipkin three months, while Tom gave six. Moundshroud gave them each a drink (tasted like grape kool-aid) and said “Chew, swallow, swallow and…well, swallow anyway. And I hope I never have to see you all for a while now.” He smiled at Wally. “Except I’ll be seeing you very shortly.” Then, abruptly, he disappeared with the universe.

Part IV: The End

Before they knew it, the four teenagers found themselves in a cold field of overgrown weeds. The waining crescent beamed down at them. Shivering, they bundled up in their futuristic clothing and made a mad-dash to Pipkin’s house. By the time they arrived, the sun was just beginning to bring a light to the foggy ground. And there, up in the same old bedroom window, sleepy-eyed and dazed, forest of freckles, with Jupiter’s red spot doubled as cheeks, was Pip. “Hullo guys,” he said. “I had a strange dream last night. Something of laser-beams and vulturaptors and…well, thanks for saving me. Again. I owe ya one. Or maybe two. Well, how much do I owe ya guys anyway?” The sleep went away from his eyes. “No really, was it the same as last time?”

The kids exchanged looks and shuffled feet. Tom at last spoke up. “Err, don’t worry Pipkin. Everything’ll be okay. Well, see you tomorrow.”

As they began to walk away, ready to sleep for another eternity, Jenny whispered, “Has he always been like this? I dunno, maybe it’s just chasing him all this time made me sour.”

Tom sighed. “All this time trying to get him, just so we can keep him for a little longer. But he’s always the same. It’s not him getting older, it’s us.

“Gosh, I’ll say,” Wally went.

Tom told him to “Just shut up already. Look, you’ve only got three months left, right? That’s what He said. So why do you even bother hanging around us? Why don’t you just get all the drugs, sex, and rock-and-roll while you still can?”

Wally stopped walking. The others kept going.

Then Jerry said, “Say, I know what we’ll do next Holloween.” The others groaned. “Hey hey, listen here. How bout we just go out to a party like most people our age do? Get ourselves a drink, in memory of Pip or something.” They kept walking, into the fog.

One month later, Wally, the Hoar became the most bad-ass partier west of the Mississippi. Eight months after that, Pipkin choked to death at a movie theater.