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starlessea · 3 years

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Eye For Detail (Daryl Dixon/Reader)

Sequel to Sketchbook Confessions

Summary: You try to sketch Daryl in return. Except, you draw his smile a little crooked, and the eyes are wonky... And Daryl completely loves it.

Words: 2490

Warnings: Language.

The courtyard was still and quiet, free from the dinner-time rowdiness going on behind prison walls. Well, it was almost quiet; Daryl's scribbling over paper sounded out faintly beside you, as you watched him work. At first, he'd been opposed to the idea of company, but after a while it has become almost like a weekly tradition - in which you'd both bask in the comfortable silence together. You'd even started to bring your own notepad, in your attempts to learn how to sketch from the man.

At first, your drawings were anything but good. Sometimes, even you couldn't tell whether you'd drawn a landscape or a strange, abstract fruit bowl. Yet, Daryl was a good teacher. Where he lacked patience normally, it seemed like he had ample to spare with you. He'd shown you how to use the different charcoals, and had even come back with more art supplies after his latest run.

It was coming up to dusk, and the sky was a brilliant mix of blue and grey hues. There were clouds gathering overhead, too, and you wondered whether there was a storm brewing behind them. Your notepad remained closed over your lap, since you still hadn't gathered the confidence to open it yet. Daryl hadn't noticed, however - too absorbed in his own work to pick up on the way you tentatively thumbed over the spine of your book.

"I tried to draw a person the other day," you finally admitted, "I don't know how you do it."

Daryl stopped what he was doing, rubbing circular motions over the paper to try and blend out his charcoal lines. He looked over at you, and you laughed gently at the black fingerprints littering his cheeks.

"Who was it?" he mumbled, eyeing you as you gathered your sleeve over your hand.

You shuffled over to the man slightly, and used the material to wipe away the charcoal stains over his skin, feeling him squirm slightly beneath your touch as you did so.

"It was you," you told him, and finally he kept still.

His stare bore into you, and suddenly it felt as though you'd been set on fire. You regretted the words as they came out of your mouth, and edged away from Daryl as soon as you'd finished cleaning him up.

You cleared your throat, trying to think of an excuse you knew he wouldn't believe. You sighed, knowing it was no use.

"Well, it was a poor attempt at Daryl," you confessed, glancing down at your sketchbook sheepishly. "Maybe a Darren at best."

You'd expected him to laugh at your joke, but he didn't. Instead, he seemed intrigued. He closed his own notepad, and you worried about whether the charcoal would smudge.

"Show me." Daryl said softly, his eyes flickering over to your lap.

You bit your lip, wiping off the cover of your sketchbook before opening it.

"Don't laugh," you warned him, shaking your head slightly.

You didn't think that he would, but you suddenly felt self-conscious. You'd drawn the portrait in your cell a few nights ago when you couldn't sleep - with the page illuminated by soft lamp-light. You remembered the feeling of the linen sheets beneath you as you sprawled out over your mattress, trying your best to shade the stubborn parts. You had tried - really you had. Except, you'd discovered that art came more naturally to some than others.

"Your eyes are crooked, and I drew your nose too big." you grimaced, settling your gaze over the portrait as you inspected its faults. "I'm sorry."

In natural lighting, it looked a lot worse than you had remembered. You tried to snap the book closed, but Daryl's palm prevented you from doing so. He was silent, and you watched his eyes slowly trail over the paper, taking in all of the details.

"Fine, you can laugh," you exclaimed, overwhelmed by his lack of response. "Okay, just say something-"

"Can I keep this?" Daryl interrupted, glancing up to meet your eyes.

You opened your mouth to speak, but no sound came out. It took a few seconds to comprehend his words, before you finally shook your head a little too quickly.

"No!" you cried, trying to snatch the book from his grasp. "I can draw you a better one."

Daryl didn't give up his grip, and only shook his head back at you in return.

"Nah, I wan' this one."

Any argument you had bubbling up was quickly quelled when you caught sight of his expression. He seemed deadly serious, and you felt your own fingers loosen over the sketchpad as a result. The man slipped it away from you, and brought the book onto his own lap, continuing to look over it.

"But it's bad," you retorted, weakly.

You knew you had lost at this point. You had learned your stubbornness from Daryl himself, after all. The man never was one to know when to back down.

The courtyard seemed a lot darker than it had only a few minutes ago. The clouds had gathered to be more dense and thick, and blocked out the remaining light left over from the setting sun. It would be hard to keep drawing like this, you thought - yet, Daryl seemed more preoccupied now.

"E'eryone gotta start somewhere" he told you, "an' I don' want ya to throw it out."

You watched as he trailed his charcoal-stained, calloused fingers along the page - careful not to leave any marks over the pristine, white paper. Even your sketchbooks looked worlds apart from one another. Yours was neat, each drawing labelled, and your lines clean; Daryl's was a collection of blackened fingerprints alongside scrawled handwriting, and the occasional crumpled page.

"Shoulda seen my first drawings," Daryl went on, looking out towards the field, and at the forest behind it. "Merle found one when I was a kid an' told me it was a shit donkey."

You cocked your head to the side, listening to him.

"Was meant to be superman," he explained, with an expression far too serious for his words.

You snorted, and the man whipped his head over to scowl at you.

"I'm sorry-" you choked out, not missing the way his lips quivered as they fought back a smile of his own. "I must have swallowed a bug."

Not long after that, the feeling in your gut turned out to be right. The storm clouds had finished gathering, and soon the first droplet of rain landed over your paper - smudging the line you'd just drawn. You glanced over at Daryl, but before he'd even had time to reply, the downpour started. It went from a single raindrop to a raging storm in a matter of seconds, leaving you both scrambling to collect the strewn sheets of paper and charcoal pieces trembling over the ground. With your supplies bundled up in your arms, the two of you ran towards the cellblock - yelling through the sounds of the rain along the way.

Once you had reached Daryl's cell, you were soaked through. The man had dragged you there since it was closer, but it hardly made a difference. Your shirt was stuck to your skin, and you were left clutching soggy handfuls of paper - bleeding ink over Daryl's stone floor. He helped you set down the supplies onto his desk, gathering up whatever was salvageable, and throwing the rest away. Luckily, most of the pastels and charcoals had been kept safe, but a lot of loose sheets had been sacrificed to the greater good in the process.

You laughed, taking in the sight of the man. His hair stuck damply to his forehead, and you watched as stray droplets ran over his cheeks. He quickly glanced around the room and retrieved one of his shirts, before offering it to you. You took it from him and smiled, waiting for Daryl to turn his back on you before starting to change.

"Looks like the weather had other plans," you noted, pulling the dry shirt over your head. "At least it washed away that god awful drawing I did of you."

You untucked your hair from the collar, and smoothed out the material over your body. Behind you, you heard the sound of a zip, and peered over your shoulder to see Daryl taking off his own leather jacket. As he did so, you noticed that he'd been concealing something beneath it, and squinted to try and make out what it was.

"Looks jus' fine to me," the man mumbled, holding up the dry piece of paper for you to see.

You scoffed; he'd stuffed your drawing there to keep it safe. You couldn't prevent the smile spreading over your face as you looked at him in disbelief. He gave you a teasing smirk back, before setting the picture carefully onto his desk with the others.

"Y'know," Daryl said quietly, "s'a lot easier to draw from real life."

You glanced over at your drawing, knowing what he was getting at. You were acutely aware of its flaws, but you just didn't have the experience to know how to fix them yet.

"I know what you look like," you quipped back.

It was the truth. Perhaps you even knew a little too well.

"Mhm," he hummed back, before walking over to where you were standing.

You could tell from the tone of his voice that he didn't entirely believe you. One of the first things he'd taught you was that there could never truly be a good enough replacement for the real thing. Though, you had to disagree. You felt like you knew exactly how Daryl Dixon looked - you just couldn't translate it to paper.

The man stopped directly in front of you, so close that you could see his chest rising and falling. He lifted one hand slowly, tentatively even, so that you didn't get scared by his actions. Then, he hovered his palm gently over your eyelids, flicking them shut so that your world went dark.

"What colour are m'eyes?" he asked.

His hand was cold over your face, from where the rain had soaked his skin. You knew that he was trying to teach you a lesson, but you thought that perhaps you'd use the opportunity to teach him one back.

"Blue," you answered, without hesitation.

You desperately wanted to see the man's expression, but all you could do was imagine it.

"An' what-" Daryl continued, but you cut him off.

"A greyish blue," you went on, not entirely satisfied with your answer. "Like the colour of the sky before a storm."

Daryl removed his hand from over your eyes, but you kept them shut. Your fingertips brushed over the hem of his shirt that you were wearing, and you felt like you could picture the way it looked in your mind just from the texture of the material.

"Your hair is brown. The same shade as that desk near your bed," you told him, pointing in the direction you remembered it to be. "And it falls just above your neck, and is slightly curly at the ends." You laughed, considering your next words. "Especially just after you wash it."

Daryl remained silent, and you tried to picture the type of look he had in his eyes. You thought that perhaps you should stop, that you'd made your point clear - but you were in too deep to turn back now.

"And you have two moles," you said quietly - and wondered whether he had heard your voice tremble, too.

You reached out your hand slowly, trying to find the other man. Your palm made contact with his chest, and you let your fingertips trail up until you reached his neck, and then his face.

"One by your nose," you told him, resting your palm over his cheek, "and the other near your lip."

You tried to find it, but your thumb accidentally brushed over his lip, instead. Your heart jumped in your chest, and your eyes flickered open unintentionally.

"I'm sorry-" you blurted out, but the words tapered off as you noticed Daryl's stare.

The man stood perfectly still in front of you, letting your hand rest over his cold, damp skin. You quickly pulled away, glancing off to the side nervously. Though, the both of you knew that you'd gone too far to make any poor excuses now. You'd passed a boundary, but you couldn't say that you wanted to take a step back, either.

"Tha's one eye for detail ya got," Daryl said, after a few seconds had gone by.

You shook your head. "Only when it comes to you," you admitted.

Daryl looked off to the side, and then back, but you continued before he had the chance to interrupt.

"I know I'm not the best artist, but I wanted to show you how you look through my eyes, too."

Daryl raised his hand again, but this time it wasn't to block out your sight. Instead, he just rested his palm softly over your cheek - and despite how cold it was, you leant into his touch.

"Ya jus' did," he said, and gave you a small smile.

You could still hear the storm outside, as the occasional breeze whistled its way past the cracks of the cell block, or made the tree branches batter up against the windows. Sometimes, the draft even made those loose sheets flutter over the desk, in a kind of muffled, paper applause.

"Maybe I should just swap out pencils for words," you told the man. "They seem to do the job better."

He nodded in agreement, letting his hand drop back down to his side.

"Hey, Daryl?" you asked, but you already had his full attention.

"Mhm."

You decided to put your words into practice straight away, so that you wouldn't forget exactly how you felt in this moment.

"You mean a lot to me," you admitted, "in a way I don't think I'd ever be able to describe."

Daryl's eyes widened slightly, and you wished to have the talent to capture that expression with pencil and charcoal one day.

"But I still wanted to try," you finished, and waited for his response.

Except, Daryl wasn't a man of words - and he reminded you of that as he reached for his sketchbook. His fingers were still damp, and you watched as they left watery prints over the pages as he flicked through them. He finally stopped once he reached the last one, showing you his latest sketch.

It was stained with raindrops that hadn't dried yet, from where the storm had first broken out and Daryl hadn't reacted quick enough. Yet, even though it was a little smudged and wrinkled, you could still make out that it was you - from where you had been sitting right next to him in that courtyard.

The man set the book down so that the page remained open on his desk, and picked up the other loose-sheet drawing that you'd done of him - and placed them together.

"Me too," Daryl said.

And that was all you needed to hear.

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A/N AHH. I just loved this 2 part story.

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we-dragons · 3 years

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I'm from a different dimension actually Chapter 6 Damian x reader

Professor X sat in his wheelchair glancing around the room he hums his eyes pouring over all that there was finally landing on Robin. He gives me a look gesturing over at him.

"He informed me about The Crows sir, apparently they have gone under the radar, they've killed three people and the system didn't go off. At first, I thought we still had time, I treated a wound he had it he had come in contact with one and fought it. You know like how Wolverine did, I treated the cut and it's gone, but I was sure they were still in the dream state. But he got injured saving those left how survived probably not far from here, but the fact we didn't even receive the ring can only mean...they've returned under complete control again."

Concern fills the face of professor X, he turns to Robin, who shifts uncomfortably by the entrance of my kitchen. "Who are you then?"

"Robin."

The professor nods not even turning from his spot, he looks over Robin as if completing an inspection.

"How much does this Robin Know Dreki, about you, and The Crows?"

"I told him about the Jal-sein, the old race before the collective mind sharing, and he knows about my box of scales." Professor sighs.

"How did you meet him."

"When he broke through my window last week, infected."

"You gave him some scales to purge poison."

"Yes sir."

"Very good," He moves back to his original spot in the middle of the room. "You have been permitted to stop them at all costs if you must. Your uncle will be here soon to help you kill whatever has brought them back, in the meantime try not to use the stones. We don't want to attract more trouble than what has already been done."

"You're allowing me to put my powers to use?"

"As long as you don't wear it out, vibranium is not easy to turn into clothing."

"What a minute!" Robin's voice carried out through the room. "Just what's going on?"

"Robin," Professor X starts. "your world is being invaded by the Crow so that you become one of the many planets they have drained of life. And to do it they need a vessel that can contain the leader of the Jal-sein, Hok'mor." Professor X looks at him, his use

"And?" Robin says his face remaining unreadable

"I was the vessel, I escaped, destroyed the flagship and the army they had." I shiver moving out from my room to the box still lying on the kitchen table. "They were after the life of my home, so then I became a weapon for my planet." I pull out a bag of coins from the box.

"And what do you intend to do now (Y/N), destroy them yourself." Robin stands in the entryway, professor X stands behind him.

"Yes," I turn to him a chakram and the bag of coins in hand. "so unless you know how to obliterate a bird in 15 seconds or less you need to forget this ever happened and never come back."

"So, why tell me any of this, why tell me about anything why expose yourself?"

"So you can tell your family and friends and hopefully, just maybe you can survive. Because knowing them keeps them out of your head, but too much knowing allows them to enter." I pick up Nightmare, he crawls up to my shoulder and I head out of the kitchen, Robin makes room for me but just barely. I open my closet and pull out the last thing I have, two letters one written in my mother's signature ink and the other in my own handwriting, I hold them out to the professor.

"You know there is nowhere left for me to run professor if I end out getting caught...I just want him to have this. In my letter, papers are containing the custody terms for my brother to Uncle. I just need you to grab them to complete the transfer." Professor X slowly takes the letters where they rematerialize on his side.

"Good-bye Dreki, I will see that these get to your Brother."

Professor fades out of the com, and it clicks turning off, I pick it off the floor and slip it into the pocket of my sweatpants. I pulled out the chakram ready to leave a mark on my hand, I only needed a little bit of blood to completely transform when Robin coughs gaining my attention. He leans against the wall to the left of me now glaring at my form, Nightmare growls at the boy from the corner of my eye I see his fangs getting slightly bigger.

"Are you making it a habit to ignore me while I'm here?"

"No, But I do need you to leave, you can't stay here anymore." I begin to push him out the door in the kitchen, he slaps my hands away confusion leaving his face replacing it's with anger. He open's his mouth and I put a magic orange circle on his head.

"You Robin son of batman, found this information interrogating one of the monsters. It spoke in a language that was foreign but somehow understood all of it. You have made no such connection to the girl Y/N M/N, you did not see a man from another dimension, you came back to thank her for her help you had some tea and you were just leaving." I flick my hand and the circle vanishes, his head lowers for a moment as the information in his head readjusts. He moves to the balcony edge turning to face me the scowl returned to his face.

"Thank you for the tea." he pulls out a grappling hook and leaves without another word. I sigh moving to the same device I used to contact the professor. Picking it up I hold it to my mouth.

"Find me the closest thing to a sorcerer supreme, name and whereabouts contact them when you get there."

I toss it back onto the floor and it roars to life to give me a purple image of the earth and orange magic circles to tracking and moving. I move to my couch and fall asleep waiting for this day to take me.

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I wake the next day with the globe still searching for my request I sigh and get ready for work. I thank god that it's just the coffee shop below me, I work on the weekends mostly unless they need an extra member of staff then it's just me and the older lady and her husband. They both owned the building and the shop they helped me get the apartment set up and showed me how to work the coffee machines. I don't really drink coffee though after seeing what a raving maniac my dad became without it, also it was just so bitter no matter how much sugar I put into it. I partially blame my heightened scenes that came with my abilities, so I got free white hot chocolates and any extra flavors I wanted as long as I did my job and chatted with them for a while.

I asked them personally to stay away while I was sick, so they wouldn't be affected. When I get down the stairs Martha, the elderly lady beams thankful that I'm feeling better.

"I so glad you are doing well dear, I know the acidity in our rain makes you sick so Glenn and I got you this umbrella." She hands me a purple umbrella that still has a tag on it, it reads for sun and rain.

"You didn't have to do this Martha, I told you I'm not good with gifts, you already let me stay here on the government's program and gave me a job here, you and Glenn have already done so much." She pushes the umbrella farther into my chest.

"No you do so much for us, you work without complaint, you've also taken care of us and our granddaughter when she came over. When you were sick we were so worried about you so you going to take it or I can give you more gifts."

"Thank you very much."I smile brightly. She pats my shoulder and gestures to the counter to start the machines.

Once all the machines are started, the desserts are placed and the base coffees are made I open shop. Customers come in and some lounge around in the chairs or couches drinking coffees and either studying or chatting with their friends. Molly usually comes on Sunday as one of our regulars, so I would see her then. A few of our regulars are happy to see I'm back at work one of the other tenants gave me a green bean casserole and a hug. It's 5 O'clock and I make a cappuccino as I finish I hear the door open and the bell ring on the counter.

The black-haired blue-eyed male I had gotten to know as detective Richard Grayson, came in every other day at 5, he normally talks often while I tried to take his order. So I memorized what he usually gets so he doesn't block the register so I can still make the register.

"Hey Y/N I'll take the usual."

"I thought so," I hand him his drink " one cappuccino."

He takes his coffee and moves to the bar we have set up if you wanted to watch the process and it's only then I see the other people behind him, one pissed-off looking male with a cigarette in his mouth, Tim Drake, and Damian Wayne. I look back to Richard he smiles at me leaning onto the bar.

"They came with me this time, It's family bonding time."

"You mean you dragged us out of the house to grab a coffee from this place cause you have a schedule."

"It's bonding Jason! Bonding!"

The two began arguing in the shop, I return my attention to the other two boys. Tim as at the counter puts a ten-dollar bill on the counter, while Damian does the same.

"Give me a regular coffee, black, large cup."

"Tea, no sugar, regular size."

Their voices crowed each other but since this happens frequently it was easy enough to at least get their orders down.

"Sure here's your change." I look back to the two arguing and I see Jason didn't put out his cigarette. He taps it and the ash of his drug falls to the floor.

Sighing I move out of the workspace gabbing a tong and a wastebasket, I take out the cigarette and throw it in the bin now gaining the full attention of Jason. I give him a stern look he seemed to freeze, bitting back any words he might have prepared to say before.

"Sir, I am not sure if I made we've previously made It but there is a strict no smoking policy. As you see we have many elderly, and young children in our establishment." I smile but I know my face is full of malice. "But please enjoy your stay at our cozy corner of our fine and fair city." I move back behind the counter start on some of my orders, I look at Jason again the smile still on my face.

"Would you like anything?" He gives me an odd look.

"White hot chocolate, Large," he nods his head over at Richard. "Put it on his tab."

"We don't have a tabs sir, he works for the police."

"So?"

"He gets Free coffee." He gawks at me as if I told him the sky was black, and I see Richard trying to contain his laughter.

"You give that guy free coffee?"

"It's a store policy." I pass out the coffee and the tea and I see from the corner of my eye he pulls out a flask. I grab the tongs again and clap them together, Jason looks at me then grumbles putting the flask back in his jacket, and instead pulls out a five and hands it to me. I take it from him gingerly and head straight to work on his order. I hand him both his spare change and his drink, and the complimentary cookie bag that came with it. He gives me another look.

"They come with a drink." I leave and continued my chores around the shop.

"You are doing much better (m/n)." I whip my head around and look at Damian who's behind me on the other side of the counter. His companions seemed to be in deep conversation amongst themselves.

"Yes, I'm doing just fine, it happens occasionally but nothing like a good cup of tea and a few nights rest couldn't fix." I go back to cleaning the counter.

"You were sick for much longer than that."

"Yeah...it happens." I change the topic to "Did you think of anything for the project?"

"Why not make a model, there is not really much to do with it anyway." I gasp dramatically.

"Not much to do with an astrolabe! You clearly didn't read the whole paper!" By now I have caught the attention of his group. Damian frowns.

"No, your paper was written very well, I just don't think we need to dwell too much on this project seeing as how we really are not presenting." I had heard that bit from Molly.

"I suppose your right." I put away the cleaning supplies and turn back to him. "I'll get started on a model right away!"

"You will do no such thing." His voice is stern. "I will come back later and work on it with you," He moves his chair back and heads out the door.

His companions follow quickly after him and they say their goodbyes.

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As promised, he came a few hours later right as my shift ended and another person came for the second half of the day. I moved the glowing tracker to my room so it wouldn't gather any extra attention.

"I have supplies, what is all of that?" my brows furrow staring at the bulging plastic bag in his hand while I turn the keys in my locks. opening the door.

"I wasn't sure if you were prepared." He moves to the door, my arm shoots in his way stopping him.

"I wouldn't go in quite yet."

"What?"

I put a finger to my lips and crouch slowly to the floor, I shake the key in my hand then slid them across the floor. A ball of black attacks the object just as it crosses the doorway. Nightmare attacks the keys rolling around and bitting.

"Ah yes, observe the feral kitten in his natural habitat." I walk inside the door beckoning Damian to follow. "I would beware he is an ankle bitter. You can set up in the living room I'll just drop this guy off in my room."

"Does he attack all the time?"

"He's been like that since I picked him up, I don't blame him he was born in a rough neighborhood." I set Nightmare on the bed next to the floating version of earth. "Watch it make sure it finishes." then head to the living room. Damian has all his stuff set out on the table. There was veneer, paper, paint, some nails, an Exacto knife, a hammer, and a bag of pipe cleaners.

"This looks like stuff to make a birdhouse," I try and pick up some of the wood that was on the table." you realize cardboard, scissors, and a sharpie would have been enough."

"And here I thought you like polished and neat projects."

"yeah, but even with cheap materials you can still create a masterpiece."

"You don't do anything nice for yourself self do you?"

"Dude the most expensive thing I own is a cat who attacks me." I sigh, I sketch out a design for the astrolabe. "Well, why don't you start on the Mater, I'll get to work on the plate for our side of America."

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"3 hours of hard work and I got to say it's not bad." I hold the fished product, It's attached to a string of green yarn. "The calculations are down to point." I put it down, I clean up the mess that's on the floor of the living room.

"About the last time we saw each other, I'm sorry."

"It's fine, you probably knew about me from the news already, the big myste#wayne#scifi#damian#bruce#bats#fanfiction#xreader#characterxreader#jason todd#tim drake#character x reader#mxf#fxm#batboys#batboys x reader#Damianxreader#X reader#DC#Marvel#MarvelxReader#DCxreader#batfam#mutants#Damian Wayne x reader ry of the missing journals. So many interviews." I dump the trash in the kitchen, saying that last part mostly to my self.

"You forgive too easily."

"I'm not as forgiving as you think, honestly you view me too highly it that's what you believe. Would you like something before you leave?"

"No, but I have something for you before I go." I open the door to my room and let Nightmare out.

"Oh?" He's already at the door and pulls a shiny gold card from his pocket, he hands it to me.

"Father thought it would be good to meet you."

"Because I'm the daughter of a famous dead professor, is he going to ask about the journals too?"

"No, this is to apologize for my previous behavior."

"Oh," I take the card looking at it uneasily. "I don't think I can go to this, I don't do well at parties."

"Not a very good excuse." He smirks.

"I'll think about it." I push him out the door and give him the Astrolabe, closing the door slowly. " I'll see you at school."

I look at the card again, It's like the parties mom went to I knew them well. While some were nice, others were nice only in their face. I laugh slightly to myself, Molly already called me earlier telling me I was her plus one to the same thing. This was already suspicious enough as it is. I look at Nightmare who cocks his head at me.

"You think I should go, don't you?" the furball nods

"Fine. I was going to be forced into this anyway."

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disappearinginq · 5 years

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First of all: Thank you for replying :) What do I want to see wrapped up...? God appearing would be a bit too much wouldn't it be? Maybe a sign or something from his side? But I don't know, like Chloe knows everything. Maybe one of the archangels fixing the mess that happened. and oooh hugs. thank you for considering my thoughts :)

I will always answer asks from people who bothered to read anything I wrote. The day I don’t, assume I’m dead.

But no lie - God actually was going to make an appearance. The original version went that Samael and his brothers in an all out fight accidentally killed Chloe (I think I made it that Ragiel, in an effort to hit Samael, missed and got her instead) and that’s what snapped him out of Delilah’s influence. Except then it got super complicated, because it’d originally been based on everyone thinking Samael was the worst of Lucifer, when really, Lucifer was the worst of Lucifer, and Lucifer in a fit of rage destroyed the Earth by ripping apart the boundaries between Earth and Hell and letting everything from Hell swamp the Earth....and God showed up because Chloe wound up meeting him a la Sam and Dean in the Garden in Heaven style, but...anyway. It was already almost 100k words, and I figured I should be wrapping things up, not making things more complicated, so I decided Lucifer was going to save himself instead.

BUT - because you were kind enough to give me an answer, here’s a preview of what I have written (but I’m not married to), and lemme know if this is a direction I should pursue, or if you would prefer the final chapter be IMMEDIATELY following the previous one.

There was no such thing as normal.

One of those beautifully crafted lies humanity liked to sellitself.

After everything – everythingbeing an entirely mind-warping view of the world, the universe, life afterdeath, the cosmic forces of the existential nightmare that was being human, andthe new found and not easily ignored knowledge that her partner and her friendwas proof of a higher power – Chloe didn’t know what to do. What to think. Everythingsince meeting Michael and Gabriel and allof them, there’d been no time to stop and think about what exactly was going on. To consider all of theramifications, and all that it meant that Lucifer wasn’t human, that there wasa God with a capital G, and…now that she hadtime to process it, it just made things worse.

Somehow, breaking through to Lucifer was the easy part.

Which just explained how much of a shit show circus herreality had become.

The part that really, well and truly threw her though, wasjust how fast everything tried toreturn to normal.

After the better half of…weeks? Months? It felt like yearsfrom her point of view – of investigating serial killer cultists who used magicto try and steal Lucifer’s soul or rip him in half to jump start an apocalypse,of seeing him destroy downtown LA with an epic battle between his brothers andbarely managing to avoid Lucifer killing himself out of spite…

After all that…

Monday mornings at the precinct seemed surreal.

She burned herself twice at the coffee pot because she wasn’tpaying attention where she was reaching, zoning out as she tried to go over again what exactly she’d witnessed. Shewalked face first into a glass door, much to a patrolman’s amusement, becauseshe couldn’t keep her mind off the sight of magnificent, damaged wingssprouting from her partner’s back. She misfiled three separate warrants becauseshe couldn’t stop herself from picturing the almost reptilian features of afully enraged archangel as his brothers threatened to literally drag him toHell bound in chains.

But most of all, she couldn’t stop thinking about the look onhis face when he admitted just how lost he truly was – not just as Lucifer, butas Samael.

And she didn’t know what to do about it.

She stayed away. She didn’t know what to say, or what to do.There was no one to really talk to – Dan hadn’t been there for the finalbattle. He hadn’t seen just how far gone Lucifer had been, or what he wascapable of. Hadn’t seen him turn a crowd with little more than a whisper in aneager ear.

She wanted to talkto Michael. Or Gabriel. Or even Ragiel or Azrael. Any of them. All of them. Itdidn’t matter. But no matter how many times she tried to…contact them…she wasmet with stoic silence. It was like past the moment where Lucifer savedhimself, they ceased to exist. They didn’t stay. They didn’t warn they wereleaving. They said nothing and were simply gone. Maybe she was doing it wrong.But she had asked Dan how exactlyprayers worked, because maybe she was just doing it wrong. Maybe she didn’tmake the right gesture, maybe she hadn’t said the right words.

She just wanted toknow what she should do.

After days of silence, she understood Lucifer’s frustrationwith his biological family. Prayers became littered with vague threats ofviolence, and language that would make a sailor blush. She even caught herselfonce doodling a haloed stick figure getting whacked with an umbrella before shesighed and crumpled the paper up in frustration.

If she was being truly honest, she was more frustrated withherself than angels.

The desk across from her remained noticeably empty, a starkreminder that all was not right in the world.

Lucifer hadn’t come in since…well, actually, he hadn’t beenat the precinct since before he wastaken. It’d been weeks since she’d seen him at work.

She eyed her cellphone.

She could call him.

She should callhim.

But every time she her finger hovered over the ‘call’ buttonon his number, she chickened out.

Because what couldshe say?

Despite her confidence that Lucifer could make his owndecisions and save himself…she felt ridiculous thinking she could offer animmortal being with phenomenal cosmic powers anything like advice. Or comfort. She’d thought she could look pastthe new reality she found herself in. Lucifer was still Lucifer.

Except he wasn’t.

And she wasn’t the same, either.

And every time she thought back to a moment or an instancewhere she lectured Lucifer on humanity and what was right and wrong, she felther cheeks start to burn from embarrassment. It must’ve been like listening toa talking monkey try to tell a god about the world. And now, when she suspectedthat they both needed that connectionto someone who maybe understood, she found herself flailing.

She tried to rationalize that he hadn’t called her either.That must mean he wasn’t ready to talk yet, right? Or maybe he just needed timealone. He had narrowly avoided death.Ish. An undoing of a soul. That must be traumatic, right? She hadn’t wanted tosee anyone, except her daughter, after she’d been shot, either. Maybe he wasthe same way?

Facing mortality for a mortal was one thing.

She couldn’t even begin to imagine what the sameconfrontation meant for an immortal. Lucifer once treated his mortality as agame, but it was one thing to experience the novelty of pain for the firsttime. It was an entirely different matter to consider death.

Chloe stared at her phone. Maybe he wouldn’t pick up.

Maybe he would.

She wasn’t sure which scenario was worse.

Every time it buzzed, she snatched it like a fat kid snaggedfree cake, hardly daring to breathe until she realized that it was just ane-mail from someone else. A text from her mother. A picture from the babysitterand Trixie.

At night, when her shift was over, she purposely took thelong way home, cruising past Lux, telling herself every time that this time would be the time she stoppedin.

Except it wasn’t.

Lux remained shuttered and closed, devoid of the pulse thatgave the building a life of its own. Somehow, what happened there seemed tolinger. It might have been her imagination, except that others seemed to feelit too. No one lined the sidewalks waiting to get in. No one approached thebuilding, peering in windows to see when it would re-open. People skirted thesidewalk, crossing the street without really seeming to know why, because oneblock later, they stopped and looked around, confused as to why they crossed inthe first place when their destination was the other side of the street.

There was no evidence of what happened. Nothing every made itto YouTube, or the news, or any other media platform. She assumed it was thearchangels at work – or at least, some other cosmic force. She had nothing elseto explain why one night, downtown LA looked like an aftermath scene for amonster movie, and the next day like nothing happened.

And stranger still…the more she tried to recall exactly whathappened in the aftermath, the less clear her memories became. Was it stress?Was it shock? Was it the frailty of the human mind? Was it something…or someone…else entirely?

She sat in her car outside of Lux, parked just beyond thehalo of a streetlamp, staring up at the darkened building. Lucifer couldprobably answer her questions. Now that he didn’t have to answermetaphorically, or she knew that he wasn’tbeing facetious, it would probably help them both. Right?

Or maybe it would just make it worse. At least now she had abunch of ‘maybes’ or ‘what ifs’ that she could easily shrug away or make up ananswer that while perhaps being utter BS would make her feel better at night,and not like someone was staring at her from on high no matter where she was.

God saw all, right? How much was all? What kind of pervy God were they talking that?

She sighed and growled in frustration, grabbing the steeringwheel with both hands as she let her forehead drop against it. “Uggghhhh, why does everything have to be so goddamn difficult?”

“Because that’s how the world works.”

Chloe screamed, and almost hurled herself out of the carbefore her brain even processed who’s voice it was.

Maze sat in the passenger seat, feet up on the dash, one armpropped on the open window, sucking on a lollipop of all things, lookingcompletely unimpressed by Chloe’s cardiac arrest.

“Maze,” Chloehissed through clenched teeth as she reflexively put a hand to her heart. “Areyou trying to kill me?”

Maze considered it for a moment, cocking her head to one sidebefore pulling out the stick candy with an audible ‘pop’. “No,” she said. “I am wondering what you’re doing with yournightly drive-bys though. Seems a little stalker-ish, even for you.”

Chloe declined to answer, because she didn’t have one.Instead, she changed subjects. “Where have you been, anyway? I haven’t seen yousince…” she actually had to think about it. When was the last time she saw Maze? The night Lucifer disappeared fromthe penthouse? And how long ago was that?“Since before Michael and Gabriel showed up.”

Maze flat out laughed at that. “Well, duh,” she sneered, lips pulling back an almost feral snarl. “Demonsand archangels are no bueno. We gothistory. I wasn’t about to get in the middle of all…” she waved her lollipoparound in a vague circle, “that.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be Lucifer’s bodyguard or something?”Chloe pointed out.

Maze pursed her lips, raising one eyebrow. “Aren’t yousupposed to be his partner? Where have you been, besides skulking outside theclub like some sort of creeper?”

Chloe cringed, looking away.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Maze said. She fell silent fora moment, sucking on her candy. “It’s the kind of tragedy I expect from his Dadby now.” Maze glanced skyward through the open window of the car. “Giving himexactly what he wants, in the worst way possible.”

She considered it for a moment. “How…” she stopped, trying tothink of exactly what she wanted to ask, whether or not she wanted to know thetruth. She chewed her lower lip. No. She didn’t need to what Maze meant – notreally, not from her. “How is he?”

Maze leaned forwards, looking up at the darkened penthousethrough the windshield. “Different.”

Chloe didn’t ask any further.

Thunder rolled gently in the distance. Another spring storm,coming across the Pacific.

“What are you waiting for? Permission?” Maze snapped. “Go.”

Chloe reached for the ignition. Maze was right. She didn’thave the right to sit out here and stalk someone who clearly wanted to be leftalone. Lux was empty for a reason. He hadn’t come to work, hadn’t called,hadn’t reached out for a reason. Sheshould know well enough what it was like to have someone who didn’t listen toboundaries.

Maze slapped her hand away from the keys. “Not leave go, go see him go.” She pointed towards the club’s front doors. “It’snot locked. He’s in the penthouse. Go.”

Chloe began to shake her head. “No, he hasn’t invited me, hehasn’t reached out – I need to respect that –”

Maze growled in frustration, and for a moment, sounded lessthan human. “Oh, for the love of – he’s not thatdifferent. He hasn’t reached out because youhaven’t said anything. He thinks you’re just like everyone else who’s everfound out the truth about him, and so far, he’s right. Now go.” She wavedtowards the club.

That hit Chloe like a sucker punch to the gut. It was onething to stay away because that’s what Lucifer wanted.

It was another thing entirely to abandon a friend in need whodidn’t know how to ask for help.

“Okay, I just…do I need-” she glanced back over and Maze wasgone. Chloe heaved a sigh. “Of course she vanishes into thin air. What demonninja bartender doesn’t? Using a door would be unrealistic, right? Who does that? No need to say good-bye, oranything. Pfft.”

She made sure the windows were up, the door was locked, anddarted across the street before she could change her mind.

(*(*(

Lux was silent. Eerily so. Not like the sound proofing Samaelhad, or the frigid temperatures, but like all the electronics were shut down.The bar was dark. The screens were off. The central air wasn’t on.

The last time she was here, she witnessed Samael rend his brother’swings from his back and throw him down into Hell through a tear in reality shewatched him create.

The columns were repaired. The piano replaced. The glasspicked up and everything polished to a glass-like shine.

Everything looked exactly the same as it had beforeeverything started on the surface, and yet somehow…still felt dead underneath.

As she watched the numbers climb towards the penthouse, shehad a sudden urge to hit the emergency stop and climb the rest of the way bystairs just to draw it out.

She needed the extra time. She had no idea what to say. Shedidn’t even know where to start. Would he even see her? She hadn’t felt thisnervous facing down Samael, and she’d seenwhat he’d done.

Lucifer was a friend. A bestfriend.

Who was an archangel who fell from Heaven, ran Hell, andthen…took a vacation in LA.

Yeah. She could do this. She could totally do this. Yep. Onehundred percent, she owed this to Lucifer, she owed it to herself, she –

The final ‘ding’ echoed like a gunshot in the tiny space. Shefelt her heart hammering in her chest like she’d run a marathon and she wasn’teven sure why. She wasn’t afraid ofLucifer. She hadn’t been afraid of him as Samael. Michael, Gabriel, Death – she’d faced them all withoutfeeling like this. What the hell waswrong with her?

Maybe she should leave. She should go, she hadn’t beeninvited, it was too soon it was-

The doors slid open and she froze.

The penthouse was destroyed.

Absolutely destroyed.

The piano was upended against the marble walls, the bench inpieces flung to the other side of the room. The bar and every bottle shattered.Bits of glass peppered the floor. Expensive alcohol leaked from broken bottles,drying where it lay on the black floors.

Ta daaaaah!

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