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mika-no-sekai-blog · 15 days

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Word count: 1600+

Warnings: mentions of blood, wounds, malnutrition; swear words

Part XIX | Part XXI

The beast watched you, growling lowly and dangerously. No sign of recognition in his eyes or tense posture. He seemed to be ready to tear the unwelcome intruders into shreds.

"No sudden moves. Just slowly, easily." Lucien whispered next to your ear, his big hand on your waist.

"Hello, Tamlin," he said to the beast in a soothing voice. "It's me, Lucien. I brought you a visitor. Do you remember Y/N?"

The beast didn't even blink, eyes on you. It seemed he didn't understand words anymore. Sizing you up as predator assessing his prey, he slowly moved forward and his huge bear-like body came to view.

You gasped, your heart breaking at the sight of him. He was just walking skeleton wrapped in thick fur. You could count all of his ribs even from afar.

Lucien very slowly took a step back, pulling you with him, but you refused to move. He swallowed so hard even Tamlin heard it and growled at him.

"Please, just follow me," he lowly hissed through clenched teeth. "It's too dangerous. He already saw you and doesn't seem to be overjoyed. We can try it again in the morning and hope he is in better mood."

"No," you said firmly. "I won't leave him."

"Fuck!" The beast moved swiftly, bridging the distance between you with two jumps. Lucien drew a dagger while moving forward to shield you with his body. "Tamlin, we don't want to hurt you, but-"

"Stop," you snapped for his wrist and tried to push his hand with the dagger down. "Put it away."

The sound that Tamlin made, shook the walls so much that pieces of plaster fell off. Claws whizzed through the air and dagger flew off to the corner of the room.

Lucien cried out in pain. Blood ran from a deep cut on the back of his hand, drawing deep crimson flowers on the floor. The claws caught on your dress, too, cutting open holes into a skirt, missing your flesh by an inch.

The beast opened its mouth ready to bite. You didn't think, you just acted. You moved as fast as you could and getting between deadly fangs and cursing Lucien, you spread your arms wide.

"Tamlin, no," you shouted, shutting your eyes closed you waited for a pain that never came.

Slightly trembling, you dared to crack one eye open. The beast froze in mid-motion with wide opened mouth, sharp fangs just inches from your chest. His gaze was wild, ruthless and full of rage. But there was also something like a recognition in his eyes. Growling he shut the mouth, hunched over and glaring at you he backed down. You held his gaze. A tiny bud of hope bloomed in your heart.

Slowly you turned your back to him. Huff of warm air fanned the back of your neck. You froze on the spot, but nothing happened.

Lucien was gaping at you with pained expression. He held his hurt hand, tucking it to his chest. A small puddle was forming on the floor below him, his front was soaked with blood.

You tore off a piece of your petticoat. "Can I see it?" Hesitantly, he let you take a look while his eyes jumped between you and the beast behind your back. "It's quite deep, but thanks Mother, it's already starting to close," you breathed sigh of relief.

You tended it as best as you could at the moment and pivoted back to the beast. He watched you carefully, snarling, still ready to attack.

Strangely, you weren't scared of him so much now. Even your heartbeat slowed down to almost normal. You nearly started to believe that he wouldn't hurt you.

Holding his gaze you slowly raised your hands with palms upward.

"It's okay, Tamlin," you spoke soothingly and smiled. He barked at you. You winced, but you managed to stay rooted at the spot. Your pulse quickened again. The courage you felt before, vanished.

"Y/N," Lucien warned lowly from behind you. "We should leave." His unhurt hand touched your waist, ready to pull you back if the beast decided to attack for real.

"Let me at least try it," you pleaded while still holding Tamlin's gaze. You wanted to believe that he wouldn't hurt you with all your heart, but after all, in his current state he was unpredictable. You let out a shaky breath.

The beast licked its lips snarling lowly.

"It's okay, Tamlin." Your voice was trembling. "I'm not here to hurt you. I want to help you. Like the last time. Do you remember it?"

He finally blinked, his gaze lowered to the floor for a second. He took a step back.

"Will you let me help you?"

He growled and jumped forward, stopping with his fangs an inch from your face. A tear slid down your face, the yellow eyes followed its trail. You didn't dare to move even though Lucien yanked on your waist, trying to push you aside, out of the beast's reach.

"Please, Tamlin. I'm begging you."

His stare faltered and after few moments that felt like forever, he reluctantly lowered his head. Moving very slowly you placed your hand on his head, caressing him gently between antlers. He closed his eyes and made a whimper like sound.

"Cauldron boil me," Lucien whispered in awe behind you. But he shouldn't have done that. The beast moved forward, towering over you and snapping at him. Lucien jumped back in time to avoid his fangs.

You wrapped your arms around his neck. "No!" The beast stopped. "It's friend. He won't hurt you. Lucien came to help you, too."

The beast snarled one more time, heaving. He seemed to be at the end with his strength. His hind legs buckled and he sat down to cover the sudden weakness.

"Are you tired, Tamlin?" You whispered, still hugging him and caressing the dirty fur on his back. "Would you like to drink some water?"

The sound he made sounded like no. He didn't speak, probably couldn't. The animal was stronger, suppressing Tamlin's real form.

"Okay, so no water. How about tea?" He seemed considering it for a moment. He made another animal sounds. These sounded like agreement. "Good. So tea it is," you smiled at him.

"Do you think there are some herbs around here?" You half-turned to Lucien who was silently watching over you, hurt hand along his side, the other one ready to protect you.

"I guess there are some in the garden," he said warily.

"Could you show me where?"

The beast stood up, growling, one of his front paw curled around you, pulling you closer. Lucien was immediately next to you, reaching for you.

"It's okay. I'm fine," you assured him, chuckling. "I guess he doesn't want me to go. What should we do now?"

Lucien gritted his teeth, eyes watching over the place where Tamlin was touching you, his pointed claws too close to your flesh.

"Do you think you could bring some?" you offered the only possible solution as Tamlin was apparently too weak to make it to the garden and back.

"I could, but forget that I will leave you here alone."

You arched a brow. "Seriously?"

"Yeah." You gazed at each other, unblinking. At last Lucien lost and blinked. "Fuck," he grunted under his breath, frowning and ran hand through his long hair. "You won. I'll do it. What herbs do you need?"

Your lips curled into satisfied smile. "Do you think you could find some chamomile? And maybe even lemon balm?"

"Yeah, I think some grew in the kitchen's garden. I can go and check it out. But. If something happens. Anything. You will shout as loud as you can and run for your life. And use this." He forced another dagger into your hand. It was much smaller than the first one he lost.

"I-" you wanted to refuse it, but his narrowed eyes didn't allow any compromise. It would be either this or he wouldn't go. "Fine."

"Fine," he repeated and watching you, Lucien backed from the room.

"Can we move to the kitchen to boil the water?" you asked Tamlin. He grunted, but he moved toward the doors.

Lucien returned as soon as you put a kettle and a cauldron on the fire, hand full of herbs you asked for. The chance of finding some clean bandages in the mess around was minimal, so you sacrificed the rest of your petticoat and sterilised it in the boiling water.

When the tea was ready Lucien gladly accepted a cup and sipping the hot drink he watched Tamlin who at first sniffed around his bowl, but once he hesitantly drank, he couldn't stop and asked even for the seconds.

Meanwhile you tended to Lucien's wound, carefully washing it out with chamomile extract and again bandaged it with clean sterilised strip of fabric. Lucien didn't so much as hiss, thanking you afterwards.

It was quite late at night when you finished and the three of you were really tired. Tamlin's room was completely destroyed, but Lucien helped you find two not so dirty and damaged mattresses and move them to one of the rooms in better condition.

You laid down, exhausted, but happy being back in Spring. Tamlin, now clean thanks to Lucien's magic, stretched out next to you, snout in your hair.

Lucien insisted on putting the other mattress right next to yours, refusing to leave you with the beast alone. Before you drifted into sleep, you felt his big hand touching yours. The warmth from his skin seeped into your body and wrapped around you like a thick blanket, lulling you into the deepest sleep you had in last months.

Taglist:

@impossibelle @sevikas-whore @b0xerdancer @ladylizzieofdarbyshire @tele86 @mybestfriendmademe @nocasdatsgay @yunloyal @nebarious @isabiss @st0rmyt @lilah-asteria @ubigaia @paleidiot

#english isnt my first language #tamlin fanfiction #tamlin x reader #pro tamlin #tamlin acotar #tamlin #lucien vanserra #lucien acotar

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pandoradoesotherstuff · 5 months

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A Tight Predicament

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A/N: Of course my first full Baldur's Gate 3 fic is smut! 😂😂 I didn't want to disappoint anyone. 😏😏

Also, let's just pretend for a minute that Astarion hasn't been sexually traumatised and Gale is less self conscious.

So, this is Gale x Astarion x reader/Tav. I've tried to keep it as gender neutral as possible but reader is described (vaguely) as having female parts down below. (Sorry)

Enjoy!❤️

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You didn't like separating everyone up. It just made more sense to you to stick together, safety in numbers after all but after clearing out a particularly twisty turny ruin you deemed it safe enough for everyone to do their own thing. Shadowheart backtracked to find a statue of Shar she was sure she had spotted earlier, Gale was one room over checking out some dusty tomes that had been left by the previous occupant and Astarion was behind you working on a particularly tricky lock, murmuring to himself about the want of a skeleton key. Meanwhile, you were sitting on the stone floor trying to wipe the goblin blood off of a new short sword you had found.

It was this particular view that had led you to your current predicament. Out of the corner of your eye, you could have sworn you saw a flash of purple. Curious, and cautious, as to what could have caused such a thing, you get back on your feet and slowly draw back the moth eaten tapestry to reveal a smallish hole in the brickwork. It was the purple robes of Gale you had seen.

"Hey Astarion!" You call softly over your shoulder, signalling for the vampire spawn to join you.

"Mm?" Comes his inquisitive reply, moving to now stand next to you.

"Bet I could reach through and make Gale scream?" The smirk on Astarion's face makes you reconsider your words, quickly interjecting before he could reply. "Not like that!" God's above...I just mean like, you know, a little spook. In general. No other screaming involved." You're looking at anywhere else in the room except at the annoyingly handsome vampire, already feeling your cheeks start to flush red.

"Of course my dear, I'd never dream of suggesting anything else", faux innocence colouring his voice. "But do carry on, I'd love to see that obnoxious wizard cry out for his beloved Mystra". You bristle at the name of Gale's ex-lover but stay silent, instead bending over and bracing yourself on the stone wall.

It was rough on your hands as you carefully pulled yourself through just a little, thankful it was at the perfect height so your feet didn't leave floor.

"Even if you don't succeed in frightening Gale, this view alone is worth it".

You ignore Astarion's flirty comment, shimmying a little further in only to see Gale wasn't quite in your reach just yet. You'd have to move in just a little bit more...

"Merlin's beard!!"

You'd been so busy trying to shuffle further that you hadn't noticed Gale turning around, finally spotting you.

"Hello", you grin sheepishly.

"What in the name of Ao are you doing?!" He asks, pinching the bridge of his nose and snapping the tome shut with the other.

"Isn't it obvious?" Astarion's muffled voice comes through the wall you were currently lodged in. Nervous energy flutters in your stomach as you feel the vampire's hands hold on to your hips lightly. You try to move yourself backwards only to find that you are now completely stuck. You try again, grunting slightly as the jagged solid brick digs into your hips.

"Wait," Astarion begins. Voice barely concealing a laugh as his fingers now begin to creep up under your armoured tunic. "Are you trapped?" He asks incredulously. You cover your face with your hands, a deep blush now settling on your cheeks.

"Yes, okay? Let's not make a big deal out of it". You mumble, trying your best to ignore your occasional lover's adept fingers toying with your belt buckle.

"Are you quite alright?" Gale asks, seemingly genuinely concerned as he leans in slightly for a closer look at the brickwork that had trapped you. Probably already figuring out a magical way to free you.

"I'm fine, despite my...situation. My ego is definitely more bruised than anything." You sigh resignedly.

"Not to worry, between Astarion and myself, I'm sure we'll have you out in a jiffy". Gske smiles reassuringly while crouching down to now be eye level with you.

"Well Gale, let's not be so hasty". Astarion's large hands now squeeze your ass as he talks, you bite your lip trying not to react. "This is a very interesting position our dear fearless leader has found themselves in. It almost seems a waste to not...explore this opportunity to its fullest." Astarion pushes his knee in between your thighs. Gods, this was akin to torture!

"Astarion!" You hiss in warning. Although in warning of what you don't know, it wasn't like you could do much.

"Are you alright? Is he hurting you?" Gale is looking at you so sincerely with those warm brown eyes of his. If this was any other situation, you would have melted. Astarion's laughter snaps you out of your trance, the sound of your belt hitting the floor making you close your eyes in embarrassment.

"You know Gale, it's no secret that you pine after them. We've all seen your lingering stares over the bonfire, bounding after them like an excited little pup. So so eager to please. It's all rather adorable, you know. And to think, Tav here would give you everything if you just asked." Astarion punctuates his words by grinding his knee against your heated core. Gale's eyes noticeably darken as you whimper loudly, hips trying to move against him but finding it impossible. The rogue then continues talking as if nothing was amiss. "They're annoyingly fond of you too. Personally, I don't see it but I am known for my impeccable taste, so make of it what you will I suppose".

There was a beat of silence as the wizard before you tries to take in all that had just happened, his dexterous fingers nervously playing with a little piece of the weave.

"You don't have to do anything you don't want to Gale." You say quietly, trying your best to ignore Astarion still pressed tightly behind you. The wizard smiles softly at you, large calloused hand coming up to gently cup your cheek.

"Even in the most compromising position you still try to look after foolish wizards like me."

"Someone's gotta."

His lips touch yours hesitantly, warm and soft, pausing as he waits for you to react. You smile into the kiss as you slowly work your lips together. The tadpole begins to niggle in your brain, you can feel Astarion trying to enter your mind. Gale sighs into your mouth before pulling back slightly to speak. "So impatient," he quietly scolds so only you can hear it. "Let him in then, least we never hear the end of it."

You'll never get used to the gnawing wriggling sensation of connecting to another tadpole, not that you want too. The frown on Gale's face tells you that he too, is seeing the same thing.

It's Astarion's view of you, your belt lying on the floor, armoured tunic bunched above your waist, his knee still firmly pressed against your core. You can feel the heat of arousal radiating from yourself, hear the way your pulse races under your skin. Astarion removes his knee, and you can't help the disappointed mewl that slips out. You both watch as he yanks your leather leggings down, your underclothes barely covering you, slick already dampening the thin fabric. Astarion's voice echos in your mind, as though whispering directly in your ear. "Yes yes, lovely heartfelt confessions all round but-" his fingers teasingly trail over your underclothes causing you to whimper again, the material now clinging to you with wetness. "-I think we all know what we're really thinking about".

The tadpole disengages and you gasp as though resurfacing from being underwater. You open your eyes to see Gale gazing at you with a dark lustful stare.

"I don't usually rush into these types of things. I like to pursue someone romantically first. And yet, now that we're here at this very precipice, at a very crucial part in our relationship. I-"

"-Hells below, Gale!! Would you hurry up and kiss them again already?! How much more of a bloody invitation do you need??"

The wizard rolls his eyes before you quickly reach out and grab his robes, pulling him in for a more passionate kiss. You can't help but whine into his mouth as Astarion behind you slowly pulls down your underclothes, velvet swollen head nudging against your dripping core.

"Please...p-please..." You mutter against Gale's lips before your moan gets swallowed by him as your vampire lover finally pushes inside you, deliciously slowly stretching you around him. His chilled fingers stroke your spine soothingly as his girth strokes your walls expertly at a teasing pace.

"My perfect treasure", he murmurs affectionately. Your fingers thread into Gale's hair, tugging on the silly strands as he kisses you with a passion you didn't quite know he was capable of.

"What...hmph...what do you...what do you need? A-anything".

One idea springs to mind.

"Stand up." You pull back, panting a little, teeth biting at your bottom lip as Astarion picks up the pace a little, his hands now gripping your hips tightly.

"Now what?" The wizard's voice was husky with lust, his lips kiss swollen.

You hungrily reach for the snaps that hold back what you so eagerly wanted, making short work of them. There's a pause as you lock eyes, an understanding flits between you.

"Are you sure?" He asks softly. You can only nod, not trusting your voice to do anything but whine and whimper from the rogue's short shallow thrusts behind you.

"As you wish." Gale hesitates, a look of self-consciousness crossing his face for a second before finally freeing himself from the tight confines of his trousers. Your breath catches in your throat, his girth was impressive to say the least.

"Gods Gale!" Comes Astarion's voice from through the wall. "I don't know what the bloody hells you did to them, but keep doing it!"

You feel a blush on your cheeks deepen, from lust or from Astarion's comment you don't know. Gale gently cups your chin, looking more than a little pleased with himself, as he guides his thick hard cock closer towards you. Your mouth waters as you kitten lick his swollen head, precum salty and surprisingly delicious on your tongue. Gale watches you with a dark intensity as you grab his hips and slowly pulled him deeper into your throat a little at a time. He wasn't as long as Astarion but definitely girthier, you focus on swallowing around him, trying hard not to choke. His dexterous fingers tangle in your hair, petting you encouragingly as he begins to move his hips slowly at first. You've never felt so full or satisfied in your life. Two exceedingly handsome men filling you up over and over again. You can only imagine how lewd you must look like that, so different from your usual composed and in control leader role.

Whether it was you, Astarion or Gale you don't know but once again you feel the tadpole connect. It almost felt like it shivered with pleasure

You can feel yourself getting filled up over and over again, taste the salty precum on your tongue, feel the heat and slick of your fluttering walls surround Astarion, feel your own throat swallow around Gale, choking on his thickness.

Both men are caught up in the multihood of sensations flooding their senses, using your body to chase their own pleasure as your thighs shake and your fingers grasp onto the purple robes of Gale tightly. Your moans and whines are muffled around the taller man as you feel the rogue's clever fingers rub at your clit perfectly, urging you closer to the end.

"Cum f-for me, for us! Cum for u-us our b-beloved!"

Pleasure ahoots through your entire body, nerves on fire as stars burst before your eyes and you almost feel light headed. Astarion's quick sharp thrusts stutter behind you into a frenzied arrhythmic pace, groaning low in his throat as he empties himself into you, fingers gripping bruises onto your skin. Gale's hands tangle in your hair, nails scraping your scalp, your name slipping out from between his lips like the sweetest prayer. You bring a shakey hand up to his heavy balls, lightly squeezing and fondling them, urging him to paint your throat white. With a strangled noise from Gale, you feel them draw up tight as the taste of his seed fills your mouth and dribbles out the corner of your lips.

You don't get a second to bask in the glow of your filthy but fun act before Shadowheart's haughty voice yells from a distance.

"I know you said we should 'stick together' but I didn't realise you meant that close! Now if you're all finished, we have a tadpole that needs removing!"

You've never wanted the ground to swallow you up more in your life.

#bg3 #baldur’s gate 3 #astarion x reader #astarion #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #gale x reader #astarion x gale x tav

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aeliem · 9 months

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@zucchiyeni's dtiys

design credits: dust by @safwunsies nightmare by @justanidiotartist horror by @westaysilly killer by @zucchiyeni

timelapse & ramblings under the cut

i tried to put this in the tags but it was way too long so here are my.... ramblings? design notes? process? watever it is it's here now

killer is the one i changed the least, even the pose is pretty much the same i kept the asymetrical design from the dtiys (w/ one sleeve rolled up & only one shoulder w/ spikes) for the shoes i kinda went watever & put the spikes in the middle (i bet you it caused some of the holes in his jeans) i like to think he chose blue soles bc he did a collab w/ nightmare so that he's not the only one w/ cool colors his main color is still red, but i made the leather, t-shirt, metal & jeans blue-ish as a complementary color

for nightmare, i don't even know if his design is canon, but when i saw that the murder time trio did collabs w/ him i knew i had to draw it i didn't touch the base design itself but i switched the colors around a lot bc i really didn't know how to make it work w/ the rest of the characters i kept the base palette (blue/cyan, purple & pink) but had purple as a main & cyan as an accent color (pink itself is only there in the glitter) also yeah i put the glitter on his coat instead of his tentacles cuz i wanted to show his bones & tentacles are made/covered in the same goopy stuff, and the glitter kinda went in the way of that i like that his colors are really different from the other & you can tell he goes solo while they're in a band, but i think it's not too distracting

horror is my favorite, like he's just enjoying himself in the back its kinda sad i had to hide him behing both his drums & killer, i might post a version w/out it to show it off the drums were a pain in the ass ngl, i've never played them so i had to look at a lot of references in the end i just drew a basic drum set w/ the colors on the ref (red & gold), i added silver for the metal bits bc it's everywhere in the other's designs his design itself is unchanged, i just thought having him in red only felt boring so i added orange to his fur & shirt

i realized too late i couldn't show dust's head w/ the pose i drew T-T also drew his entire outfit then had to hide half of it because of his guitare this is why planning is important people his guitare rocks tho (pun intended) i tried to make him red & purple to match his eyes, but currently it's more of an orange salmon color w/ a dark grey pink eeeh the intent is there i guess i made his gloves fingerless cuz you can't tell me this dude plays guitare w/ full on gloves like i know they're skeletons but that's physically impossible i also added a strap to his guitare cuz unless he's using blue magic, he probably can't keep it up w/ only his right hand

#my art #zucchiyeni100 #undertale au #idol au #killer sans #dust sans #horror sans #nightmare sans #idol killer #idol dust #idol horror #idol nightmare #i didn't have the time to draw a background #i might make a more polished version of it later #but this one is still my entry i'm not gonna change it

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the-last-thread-of-my-sanity · 2 months

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I’ve been thinking for a while about the Colossal Titan and the toll it must take on its shifters.

Despite being slow and lumbering- I honestly feel like it’s one of the most difficult titans to master.

Firstly, you have the transformation itself- the large explosion it causes and being able to calibrate that. Bertholdt at just 10 or 11 years old was able to make his Colossal appear at will without an explosion, but was also able to use it to blow up Shiganshina. Armin’s explosion in Liberio was even more massive- even the one he ignites on the Founder created a crater so deep his titan had to climb out of it.

It also seems with the heat expulsion and steam aspect you can also make the Titan disappear at will- including the skeleton- if you are being optimistic that Eren facing off with Bertholdt in the Trost arc wasn’t a bit of a plot hole and was actually a planned ability for this Titan. (It would have been interesting to see Armin do this- but he also needed to stay in the nape in order to grapple onto the air ship so…)

This titan is so different from the others in that despite all of the shifters leaving some collateral damage when initially shifting, one slip up from a Colossal shifter could wipe out everything for miles. So much of its abilities are offensive and external as opposed to abilities like hardening which are difficult to master but are more defensive in nature- intended to protect the shifter.

So its an interesting symbolism that both Bertholdt and Armin end up wielding it. It could never belong in the hands of someone like Eren who is impulsive and passionate, or even someone like Annie or Pieck where mobility and cunning are their greatest strengths.

The shifter has to be both reliable and reluctant when using it. And there’s something so tragic in that.

Additionally- when talking about Armin specifically- we never see him actually injure himself in order to initiate his transformation. (If I’m wrong about this please sound off in the notes). The two times we witness it, he has already done it and waited out to transform at the opportune moment. In the boat, at least, we have no semblance of how he initiated it- we see his hands but they aren’t bleeding or bitten. In the finale, we can assume his injury in his leg is enough to trigger it.

But the stamina and wherewithal to be able to control it so well despite already triggering it (like we see Eren do, where it implies that this is impressive by shifter standards) makes me believe Armin may have even surpassed Bertholdt’s abilities- at the very least in this aspect.

Also the idea of perspective- the motif that the Colossal is almost god-like in scope and scale- but its shifters cannot ever fully use its power or have to use it so sparingly. The idea that using its power over and over again diminishes it and makes it vulnerable.

How it fits the personality of its wielders so well while also drawing them in contrast- Bertholdt, who used it sparingly and only when ordered because he was incapable of deciding things on his own, and Armin, who used it in the capacity of a person commanding others. He is the last line of defense, the last resort- the one who will take the fall.

I think it is important thematically that Mikasa ends up killing Eren in the end- but until he shifts again there is a solid ten minutes of screen time where we are led to believe that Armin WAS the cause of his demise, and I think that’s still important to talk about. Both of them had to make the choice to “kill” Eren in the end- it’s only that one of them was more successful.

I could talk for hours analyzing the titans and how their abilities mirror the flaws and strengths of their shifters- but the Colossal specifically just intrigues me so much.

#colossal titan #aot meta #armin artlert #bertholdt hoover #titan shifter #character analysis

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dear-departed · 2 years

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Sweet heat (Lucifer)

Because y'all liked the previous smut with Beel, I thought I would do myself the ultimate self-service and make smut of Lucifer (aka my fav brother) so you're welcome, hope you enjoyed writing this as much as I did.

Warnings: Smut, obviously, wax play, ice play, overstimulation(?), MC sheds a few tears, talk of safewords, but none are used, Lucifer being a sadist, but not letting his sadism show a whole lot, also aftercare, MC is afab but no pronouns are mentioned

Word count: 3.4k

Lucifer does not do things recklessly, no, he plans everything down, and the same applies to your sex life. He’s not opposed to short sessions, designed to relieve both you and him of any pent-up stress. That being said, though, he would do just about anything to have you to himself all night, hours on end, drawing endless streams of pleasure from deep within you with his magic touch.

On nights where he has the pleasure to be with you during his free time, he prefers to go over every little nitty gritty detail before the two of you start. Your aftercare preferences, safe word, and how you would like him to talk to you.

“Safe word, are we still using umbrella for immediate stop and blue for ease up?” He asked, idly lighting up a candle and placing it on a shelf near the bed, adding to the ambient and romantic orangish-red glow to the room. After that, he adjusted the horn of demonus and the bottle of wine in the bucket of ice on the bedside tables, shifting them deeper into the ice cubes.

“Yes, that sounds good.” You squirmed in your seat, currently sitting crisscross on Lucifer’s large and plush bed. At this point, you’d actually started to not mind the skeleton in his room. After all, it was kind of like having a mini audience, one that wouldn’t judge you. You must admit, though, it definitely was freaky the first time you saw it.

“Tell me if I say something wrong to you, understand?” He sat across from you once more, gauging your expression.

“Of course, Lucifer, and you’ll tell me the same?”

“Yes.” He scooted a little closer, sitting up on his knees and leaning in. Softly, he cupped your cheek in his hand, pulling you into a tender kiss; soft sparks of passion snapping just beneath the surface of his façade. He rested his hands on your shoulders, pushing you down onto the mattress, slowly allowing his palms to slide down your body, admiring every curve that lay under your clothes. He lovingly played with the hem of your shirt, looking up to meet your flustered expression.

“Look at me, dear. Hold my gaze with those eyes of yours.” He commanded. He maintained eye contact with you as he scooted back a little, his face hovering between the waistband of your pants and your shirt. “May I proceed, Dove?”

You eagerly nodded, gnawing on your lower lip.

“Ah, but I need to hear your voice before I can continue. Won’t you talk to me?” A seductive smirk played at the corner of his mouth, his narrow eyes glaring holes into your very being.

“Yes, Lucifer! Dammit, keep going!” With anxiety building up in your mind and the pounding of your heart, you were eager to get out of these hot clothes and into his arms instead.

“My, my. How positively enthusiastic, MC.” He let out a breathy laugh. He slid one hand up your shirt and around to your back, cupping the curve of your spine as he lifted you up off the mattress just a tad so that he could pull that bothersome shirt from your body. He cast it aside to the floor the bed, making quick work of your bra, tossing it in the same spot as your shirt. He wanted to keep going, to take your pants and underwear off and admire you in your full glory, but his restraint fled him as he stared down at you, topless and at his mercy.

He kissed around the waistband of your pants, running his slightly cool tongue along the center of your stomach, transitioning to soft kisses when he reached the valley between your breasts. His nimble fingers rubbed against your waist, following the curve of your back as he slid them further down. He nipped and suckled on your clavicle while he slid your pants and underwear together off your hips. Once he got them down far enough, he hooked them with his foot and pulled them the rest of the way down, kicking them off behind him.

“Such perfection, infallible and...” He pressed his lips into where your jaw and neck met, finishing his sentence in the form of a soft murmur against your plush skin. “...And all mine...” He breathed softly at the sensitive skin at the front of your throat, sending chills running up your spine.

“Lucifer...” You whined out softly, eyeing at the buttons on his shirt, “I can’t help but notice you’re still fully clothed, don’t you think you should change that?”

“Not yet, Love. You’re wearing my resolve quite thin, don’t tempt me to rush things.” He leaned down and placed a chaste kiss on your lips, his gaze lingering on your eyes for a few seconds.

He rubbed his hands together, popping his knuckles and his wrists, shaking them out briefly after. He rolled the sleeves on his simple button-down black shirt up to elbows, moving to sit on his knees beside you. He dragged two of his fingers down from your belly button and down to your vulva, spreading your labia apart, robbing both of his fingers in between the folds.

He brushed his index finger with feather-light pressure over your clit. Which at this point, the little bit of contact left your hips bucking a little, thighs jolting inward.

He smirked, his eyes narrowing slightly as he soaked in your reaction. “I see I’m doing a good job, hm?” He eased his middle finger into your entrance, his eyes trained on your face and his ears listening closely to your sweet sounds. He slid his thumb upward, rubbing against your clit as he moved his middle finger around in slow, circular motions.

He continued this for a minute or two before sliding in his ring finger. “Is this alright?” He asked, still caressing your swollen clit with his thumb.

Seeing you eagerly not, your eyes bugging out as you bucked your hips up into his hand made his stomach do flips, something about seeing you so eager to feel his touch had him sweating.

Inside of you, his hand was beckoning you toward in in a ‘come here’ motion. He used his unoccupied hand to gently apply pressure between your pelvis and belly button, pressing down firmly, but not enough to be uncomfortable. Just enough to max out the growing knot in your abdomen.

He felt you twitch, your muscles contracting and clenching around his two fingers. His thumb rubbed just a little faster, speeding up until your legs began to tremble, obscenities and incoherent screams of his name fell from your lips. Your legs instinctively tried to shut, your whole body shaking. He used one of his legs to gently pull your leg closer to him, keeping your legs spread.

He kept exactly at that pace until he could feel the twitching around his fingers come to a stop, your breathing slowing down and becoming heavier. “You got off that much from just my hands? I’m flattered MC, but that simply isn’t the main course.” His thumb slowed, never coming to a complete stop.

Your broken gasps and trained screams were music to his ears. “L-Luci... Lucifer! Lucifer! So much-!” He laughed, thunderous and taunting, as he leaned in toward your face, his hand leaving your stomach and coming to gently rest on your face. His breath was damp and cool against your ear, his deep voice dropping to but a whisper. “I know you can take a little more. You can handle it, I know you can.” He let out an incomprehensible noise, something between words, a grumble, and a purr. He grabbed ahold of your hand, which had been white-knuckling the sheets without even realizing. He brought your hand to his mouth, pressing a soft kiss onto your knuckles. He then dropped your hand, allowing you to grab ahold of his still-clothed thigh.

“Is that alright, darling?” He stared down at your face, the look of pure love and admiration clouding over his lusted expression.

“Yes!” As torturous this much pleasure at one time felt like, your entire body craved it, you knew that no matter how damp your eyes became, they wouldn’t be tears of sadness with Lucifer, as he was far from disappointing in bed.

There’s something different between love you’ve ever experienced and love from the Avatar of Pride.

He started his same song and dance, going at the exact same pace that pushed you over the edge the last time. It worked just as a charm as it had before, but faster. He had you thrashing and screaming just from the lightest touch, warm tears of pure ecstasy dripping from the sides of your face and onto the pillow your head was on. He pulled his fingers out, looking at your flushed face, your eyes that were fuzzy and not quite focused on anything, the way your tongue was lolled out of your mouth, your chest heaving as you took deep breaths.

He gently stroked your head “you looked so irresistible like this... how about we do something else while you take a nice, relaxing, break from that?” He smiled, yet it was far from innocent.

He kissed your forehead, standing up off the bed. “I’ll be right back, don’t go anywhere.” As if you would, what a joke.

He waltzed into his closet with an unfamiliar pep in his step. You heard the heavy clunking of metal, which could only be identified as the Mammon-proof safe he kept in his closet. He emerged a few minutes later, holding a small cardboard box of different candles, marked specifically as “unscented, skin-safe candles”.

Damn well now you’ve got me interested

You watched as he sat on the edge of the bed, opening the box and pulling out three candles. A white candle, a red candle, and an ultramarine one. “May I?” He mimed out dipping the candle over your body, nodding his head over toward the lighter on his bedside table.

“Yes...” Your throat went dry, excitement building up in your stomach again.

He reached for the lighter, setting it beside himself. “Which color?” He fanned out the three colors in his hand.

“Um, blue. Yeah, let’s go with blue.”

“Good choice.” he lit the candle, holding it out to you. “Hold this for a moment, please.” You did as he said, watching him unbutton his shirt and slide it off his shoulders. He rolled his shoulders in circles, popping his neck with his hands as he took the candle once more. He appraised your body with his eyes, skimming his eyes across your exposed skin, waiting for the wax to melt a little more.

He stuck his wrist out and dripped a little onto the underside, just below his palm, squinting a little. “Hold out your wrist, I don’t think testing on my skin is accurate. It doesn’t feel that hot, though.”

You did just that, sticking out the underside of your wrist. He tipped the candle over your skin, watching as the dark blue wax fell upon your skin. It was just enough to provide a subtle sting, but not much else.

“Is that alright?” He made eye contact with you, your face morphing to one of pure desperation. You eagerly nodded, responding with yet another “yes”.

He did another experimental drip of wax onto your thigh, his lips curling into a smirk when he saw you jerk your head back, whimpering softly. “That’s perfect!” In all honesty, you weren’t expecting the burning sensation to feel so... sweet. It both relaxed you and kept you more on edge.

He dripped a little more on both of your thighs, eventually moving his other hand to toy with your clit again. Dexterous hands working wonders between your legs as he continues to drip hot wax onto your thighs.

Slowly, he moved up, dripping a little bit just below your stomach, his gaze held captive with the way your hips bucked up, causing the wax to encroach onto the sensitive flesh of your stomach. The smell of the other candles burning in the room perfumed the air, clouding your brain with the smell of jasmine and lavender, the gentle undertones of citrus sneaking up on your senses.

He let out a soft groan, something about watching the way your body move was intoxicating to him, his ironclad restraint slipping through the same fingers that were buried inside you.

He drew his fingers out from the space between your thighs, skillfully unbuttoning his pants with one hand, tugging down his underwear just enough to free his excited length. He quickly returned his hand to its previous place, as if drawn to it.

“I never thought I would get to see you like this, all vulnerable for me. he dripped more wax onto your abdomen, fully aware that you were only half-listening to his words. He didn’t expect you to understand fully, with the state you were in, but he continued to speak regardless. “Humans are thought to be easily intimidated, and perhaps some are. But I’ve tried countless times to get you to submit to me by demonstrating my power, and yet you hardly ever faltered. Being with you has taught me that persuading and treating you or those below me with respect gets me further. After all, coaxing you to open up to me got me an amazing friend, yet an even better lover. And for that-” he leaned down, planting a passionate kiss on your lips, which were still agape.

He savored the warm puff of air in the form of a moan that escaped your mouth. The gentle buzzing of your lips against his made his heart flutter in his chest.

All of this, his words that barely registered through your mind, his lips against yours, the burning of the wax; it sent another orgasm racking your body, your thighs trembling in its wake.

He continued, letting you ride it out on his hand. He had you seeing nothing but white, but also stars, all at the same time. He rubbed his index finger and thumb together, using your arousal to pinch out the flame of the candle, dripping the remainder of the melted wax onto your chest.

“Are you alright?” He set the candle onto the bedside table.

Your chest heaved as you breathed in heavily, the wax slowly cooling down and crackling on your skin. “Y-yes...” he immediately got to work on peeling the wax off your body, using a small mahogany scraper to get the smaller pieces off.

Once he got all of the wax into a little pile on the bedside, he smirked a little. “I have something that will cool you off a little, if you don’t mind.”

“Yes, please.” Your breathing began to regulate as you laid there, the sheets wrinkled where your hands were holding onto them.

“Understood.” he reached behind him, withdrawing one of the cubes of ice from the bucket that held the demonus and wine. He held it up proudly, watching as a bead of liquid fell from his hand as it melted in his grasp. He looked at your closed eyes, letting out a breathy laugh as he placed the ice on your thighs, reveling in the sharp gasp that you let out.

“It feels nice, does it not?” He dragged the ice around your skin, slowly working his way up to your chest. He delicately circled it around your areola, admiring the goosebumps that began to litter your skin.

“S-so cold...” You groaned out, gripping the sheets again.

“Of course, it is, Dove, it’s frozen.”

He continued his cold torture until the ice melted, grazing his eyes over the little droplets of water on your skin, your hair standing on end.

“Now then.” He flicked the water off his hands and onto your shivering body, shifting to position himself between your legs. He rubbed himself up and down your folds, coating the head in your arousal. And with that, he pushed it in, throwing his head back and letting out a throaty groan as you sucked him in.

Hypersensitive from the last two orgasms, you began to twitch and tremble right off the bat, even as he stood still. He grabbed ahold of your legs and leaned down, coaxing them over his shoulders. The angle at which was positioned made you emit a whine from your throat. He took both of your hands in his, beginning to thrust as he intertwined fingers with you, pressing your arms down onto the mattress.

He ducked down further to press his lips against yours, the loud sound of wet skin slapping against each other filled the room, overpowering the sound of both you and Lucifer’s moans and groans. He let out a muffled grunt into your mouth, pulling away to ravage your neck again, the deep red marks from before were sure to result in dark purplish green hickeys, but he was prepared for that.

Who would the avatar of pride be if he weren’t prepared for absolutely anything and everything?

Your orgasm creeped up faster this time, once again making you shake and convulse with pure, unrestrained pleasure.

“Good...” He muttered against your skin. “Just hold it out a little longer, I’m closer...”

With a few more powerful thrusts that were perhaps a little rougher than they needed to be, he pulled out, your legs still resting on his shoulders as he released onto your stomach.

He panted softly, slowly releasing your hands from his grasp. “I’ll get us both cleaned up just... give me a minute.” He then let out a satisfied sigh, feasting on your body, his masterpiece; with his eyes, soaking up every aspect of you. The sweat lining your forehead, the little bit of drool seeping out of the corner of your mouth, your scarlet red neck, the white lines on your stomach, the small crumbs of leftover wax still sticking to your skin.

He moved from sitting on his knees to his butt, placing a loving hand on your thigh and gently rubbing at your slightly red flesh, shocked from both the heat of the wax and the chilling coldness of the ice.

He sent you a drowsy smile, one that makes your heart melt. He was always so much more vulnerable, so much rawer after sex.

After a few minutes, he clambered off the bed and picked you up with ease, carrying you off to his bathroom. He nudged open the door with his hip and set you on the counter, placing a soft kiss on your forehead as he waltzed over to the tub. He turned on the water, grabbing a washcloth and dunking it in the cold water. He came back over to you, gently wiping off the white liquid from your stomach with the washcloth.

“I know it’s cold, but it will come off easier this way.” he whispered to you, making quick work of cleaning you off.

Once he was sure the water was heated up enough and the bath was filled, he picked you back up and set you on the edge of the tub. “Care to get in?”

You brushed your fingers across the thick bubbles on top. Does...

Does Lucifer own bubble bath?...

The Avatar of Pride takes bubble baths

Amazing.

You slid into the warm water, letting it work its magic against your tense muscles. The bubbles reached your chin, and smelled very faintly of lavender and roses.

“I’ll be right back, I’m going to put out the candles, Love.” He left the room, leaving you to your thoughts briefly.

What did you do to deserve him? To deserve being treated like royalty from someone you assumed hated you from the very beginning?

He came back, wasting no time getting into the bath with you, which was more than big enough to hold two people. He scooted up closer to you, slumping against the edge of the tub.

Lucifer kissed your cheek, sighing softly in your ear, the taste of salt strong on his lips.

“I love you, Lucifer, Avatar of Pride.”

“I know.”

He laughed, the noise vibrating deep from within his chest. A true, hearty, laugh, that was a rare sound from him, even between the two of you. “And I love you, too.”

#obey me #obey me shall we date #shall we date #shall we date obey me #omswd #swd lucifer #obey me lucifer #obey me luci #om lucifer #om luci #lucifer being a lil sadist #omswd lucifer #obey me lucifer smut #lucifer smut #obey me luci smut

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04dissection · 3 months

Text

You know what? I'm not hiding this please have all of my crane wives music assignments for the prisoners plus Es(Note: I am not confident on all of these):

Haruka: Empty Page

Cut me a path, and I will follow it, Draw me a line, and I'll avoid it- I'm nothing if not obedient. You have my word.

You'll do it better, show me how. You'll do it better, show me how. Tie me up by my callow belief, Someday I'll make something out of me, Years of imitating mastery, Only made me a better thief.

Yuno: Pretty Little Things

I cut straight to the heart. I don't believe the pretty little things that you say, I've heard a lot of little pretty things. Don't buy me flowers, It pains me to watch pretty little things wilt away.

Maybe you're right, and maybe I have been used up, By another man's hungry hands. And maybe you're right, and maybe I have been ruined, By another man after him- But maybe I'm the one who's right.

Fuuta: High Horse

We get what we deserve, We never really learn.

I keep tallies, I keep score. I'm a petty thing on a high, high horse. You've got your mouth open, I hold my tongue, There's so many things that we can't ignore.

You are never gonna change her mind, so don't try.

Muu: Icarus

They're burning down the orchard to the soil, To the soil, to the grave. Spreading out the ashes of a love, That only gave and gave.

Our hands are pulling everything apart, Fall apart, falling back- Tell yourself there's no more need to lie, We don't have time for that.

Leave our footprints to be lost along the ground, Oh my brother, my brother, my brother, There is nothing left to bring me back down.

Shidou: Metaphor

I cut my teeth on secondhand sentiments, You can't trust a single thing I say. I keep my closet free of skeletons, 'Cause I'm much better at digging graves.

I've gotten good at stretching the truth out of shape, And all these words are sweet and meaningless!

Mahiru: Strangler Fig

Now I'm trapped within your walls and all I want is to be free, For as Winsome as you may be- All you're doing now is losing me

From your pulpit what will you preach? How to live a good long life that's full of suffering.

Oh, I Gave you everything I had, Now I, now I want it back!

Kazui: The Well

All the words I couldn't say to you, Fill up the spaces in my chest, Like spare coins poised on the tip of my tongue, I make a wish and hold my breath.

Oh, the damage I'd have wrought- That old house, those rotting memories, Burned easier than I'd have thought

Amane: Scars(from what I know, this one has only ever been played live! So no studio recording if you look for it)

I’m not the person that I thought I was- I couldn't tell you where the ache came from. Maybe born in a storm beneath an angry sky- Now it’s raining in my head nearly all the time

All the love, all the kindness, all your best laid plans, Couldn't stop me from becoming the way that I am.

Was I born with a hole in my heart? A fatal fault at the start, Tell me it’s inevitable that I’d end up with scars.

Nothing could’ve been done, Is that right?

Mikoto: Queen of Nothing

Stop the car, I wanna get out. I'm craving open air and solid ground. 'Cause I've been watching from the backseat, Watching the world slipping past me.

Isn't this what you wanted? Time sure feels like it's running out- Just finish what you started.

On and on to the next town- Can we slow down?

Kotoko: The Wolf

I am not a builder, I'm much better at blowing things down

I light torches in my sleep, I have gasoline in my veins- I am always burning, burning, burning

Can it be easy for once? Cause I'm no good at being kind to myself, Or anyone. I am a falling axe, I am a sharpened knife, I am a poison asp, I am a risk to your life, My love.

I am a beast at your back, You better run for your life. Your life.

Es: The Crooked, The Cradle

There's blood in the water. The quiet are restless, the silent are still. I'm nobody's daughter.

I won't pretend, My season won't end. But I pray When it's done, when it's through, I'll have something left for you.

Can anyone hear me? Can anyone hear me? The crooked are smiling, they know me the best.

#milgram #to tag later...#but yeah!!! i think these all fit decently well i'd hope.

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monsterbeetlebug · 1 year

Text

Beetlejuice fanfic

Tw: Sex, religious imagery, dirty talk, coarse language.

Like a prayer

On a chilly evening as the sun sets in the horizon, a priest walks through the graveyard. He takes his time admiring all the graves, flowers and candles people have lit up for their late loved ones.

As he makes his way into the graveyard he noticed a gravestone he hadn't seen before. Approaching the gravestone he studies it closer. It's a tall, worn and grey, almost blue looking. Three skeleton looking figures at the top points down to the name written. It says "here lies Betelgeuse" in big red letters with an arrow pointing further down. With a low voice the priest talks to himself.

"Hmm, I've never seen this grave before"

It certainly doesn't look new to him, and he would have remembered such a special gravestone.

"Who is Bet.. Beetlejuice?"

The priest scratches his head as he tries to pronounce the name. He hasn't seen or heard the name before.

"Beetlejuice.." He whispers.

He doesn't know anyone with that name. He would have remembered such a different name. As he turned to face the church and walk back he thought maybe the young nun might have an idea.

"Beetlejuice.. Maybe Y/n knows something about this grave"

Just a the priest started walking he heard a low rumbling sound from ground. The earth started to fall in on it's own in front of the stone, forming a big hole in the ground. Smoke started pouring out and a low menacing chuckle could be heard echoing. The priest watches in shock as a man swiftly flies up and lands infront of him. He stumbles backwards and trips. He's to stunned to even mutter a word. Staring at the man looming above him.

"Cat got yer tounge faaather?" A gruff voice draws out. The man from the grave grins down at the priest.

"Thanks for letting me out, started to get a bit boring in there ya'now."

The man chuckles and pulls the priest up from the ground by his hair. The priest gulps. Getting a proper look at the man he feels a chill down his spine. He's pale with big dark circles around his eyes. A 5 O'clock shadow. Moss and mold patches growing here and there. Static hair with a dusty green colour. An old worn suit with vertical black and white stripes. Taking a step back the priest manages to stutter a question.

"Wh..who are you, what.. are you..?"

The man snorts at him with a smirk.

"Never seen a dead guy? Hah! I'm a ghost. The ghost! The ghost with the most to be precise. And the name is the one you just called out"

He poked the priest in his forehead. The priest loses the colour in his face and takes hold of the rosary he has around his wrist. He's terrified and confused.

"Your name is B..beetlejuice..?"

Beetlejuice rolls his eyes and shoves his hands in his pockets.

"Sky daddy won't help you here, but why don't you meet some friends of mine instead huh?"

Beetlejuice walks up to the priest and stands next to him. He grabs his neck and shoves him forward to the hole. The priest stumble forward gasping at the sudden shove. With a kick to the back the priest falls into the hole while Beetlejuice laughs in the background. Hearing a thump from the hole Beetlejuice grins and leans on one knee and yells into the hole.

"Greet the wroms from me wontcha father!?"

The priest can't even shout for help before he's covered in dirt, stones and grime. With his hands in his pockets and a big grin on his face Beetlejuice walks towards the church satisfied to finally be free again.

Inside the church you were preparing for the next days gathering. Tidying and setting everything up. Getting new candles for the altars and putting out sitting cushions for the people. Feeling satisfied with your work you walk up to the small staircase leading up to the main altar. You look up at the big golden cross with a carved sculpture of Jesus crucified on it. You softly kneel down on the lowest step.

"Oh, why do I feel like this. I'm a nun for christ sake."

You quickly put a hand to your mouth and look up at the cross in a small shock.

"Sorry Jesus" You whisper.

You weren't the most traditional nun, but liked to keep some of the religion and the respect because of the community in town. It was always so welcoming and warm for everyone, no matter who they were.

You even had some small tattoos and a couple piercings. Just small crosses on some fingers and thorned vines around your wrist and ankles.A couple piercings in your ears, one in your tounge and in both nipples. Even while wearing your nun attire you still wore fishnets and beautiful lingerie underneath. It made you feel so pretty.

But even for a nun who isn't so strick and doesn't believe in the traditional way, you couldn't help but feel dirty because of your thoughts. As you knelt there on the stairs you started to think again. Your thoughts running wild. You shook your head and wanted the dirty thoughts out. This wasn't the time and place for that. You couldn't keep thinking like that in church all the time.

When you heard a door open and shut you jumped a little. You didn't think that the priest would be back inside already. You stod up and turned around. You looked out towards all the benches. Looking for him. It was empty. Maybe he didn't come in? That was weird. You swore that you just heard him come in.

Just as Beetlejuice had walked in he saw a nun on the stairs in the middle of the church. He hid himself from her vision and observed her. Watching. Analysing. She's looking for the priest. He grins to himself. Watching her with a stern look. Perfect.

"Hm. Weird, maybe he forgot something?" You say to yourself. Then you get a weird feeling. Like you are being watched by someone. But.. you're alone.

You shrug and walk over to the confession both. You mark the side of the person that confesses as occupied. You sit down inside and wait for the priest to come back. You fiddle with the hem of your veil as you wait.

Hearing footsteps you breath out, gathering your thoughts a little. The door on the other side of the both opens and close. You hear the priest sit down. He clears his throat before he speaks.

"What bothers you on this fine evening sister?"

He sounded more coarse than usual. Maybe the cold breeze outside made his throat a bit sore? You sighed and looked down at your shoes.

"Oh, forgive me father for I have sinned. I keep having these awful dirty thoughts during gathering and while in church."

You wait for an answer. You really needed to get it of your chest and confine in someone you trust. You perk up when you hear him answer.

"What kind of dirty thoughts are bothering you?"

Beetlejuice smirks as he answers. Wanting to find out how he can take advantage of your confession. You sound like an angel. Look like an angel. He bets you feel and taste like heaven.

"I.. It's.. It's a bit embarrassing. I keep thinking about touching myself or to be touched by someone. I get this feeling. This need of wanting someone to want me. But it feels so wrong to have those thoughts and feelings in church. I don't know what to do anymore.."

You sink down a bit in your seat. Toes pointing towards each other. You squeeze your thighs together. Still having thoughts and can't stop them. Not sure what answer to expect. You feel so filthy sitting there. Having confessed how dirty your mind is inside. You jumped up when you heard him shuffle a bit and started to answer.

"Well, in that case.."

He paused.

Why did he stop?

It's silent.

You only hear your own breath.

Your heart rate quickens.

Then he speaks out with a slight chuckle to his voice. Sounding more coarse than before.

"Then why didn't you just say Sorry Daddy I've been a naughty girl?"

Your eyes are wide in shock. A slight blush to your cheeks. Did you hear that right? A priest couldn't possibly be saying something like that. Could he?

"Father, how can you say something like that?" You question.

You look at the wall separating the sides of the booth. Waiting you start to figet with the skirt of your attire. You feel anxious. Still, there is a weirdly good feeling about the sentence you questioned.

Click.

A quiet inhale.

The smell of smoke.

What? The priest doesn't smoke.

You are about to stand up, but stay put when the door opens.

You look up.

A strange looking man.

The cigarette between his lips makes a soft orange glow to his face. The smoke slithers up around his face. He eyes you up and down. Taking in every detail.You push yourself into the backwall trying to get further away. Wanting to hide away from his gaze.

He chuckles. He takes the cigarette with one hand and leans into the doorframe. Blowing a circle of smoke towards you. Beetlejuice has placed himself in a perfect position, traping you inside the booth. He's thinking. Considering what to do next. Putting the cigarette back between his lips he smirks. He breaths smoke out through his nostrils. Giving him a devilish and impressive look. You shake your head. You didn't want to think of him that way. As you steady your head again you feel a hand lift you chin up making you look at the man. He grins. You slap his hand away and move your head, but you can't even try to hide the way you blush. He has already noticed it.

"Want me as yer personal Jesus and give you the body of Christ?" He asks in a rough voice while grabbing his junk with his hand.

You try to look away. Feeling so embarrassed and not wanting your thoughts to take over. You clench the rosary hanging around your neck. Feeling a warmth growing. Your heart beating faster. Beetlejuice grabs your chin again and leans down. His face mere centimetres away from yours. You can smell and feel his smokey breath.

"Kneel. Like it's a prayer and I'll help you with those thoughts of yours."

He looks at you with a sly grin. As he leans up again he spits the cigarette out, but it disappeares in thin air as it lands. Gulping you kneel down infront of him. You don't have a choice. You look down at your thighs. Waiting.

Zip.

He opened his flyer.

Your eyes widen. Did he really want you to..? But you have never done anything like that, not even to yourself. You didn't know how.

".. I.. Don't know how.." You muttered without lifting your head.

"Heh, then you'll learn how. Lift your head and open up."

Slowly turning your head up you see his cock. You get anxious about even fitting it in your mouth at all. It's a bit longer than avarage and got some decent girth to it. You hesitate to open your mouth, but comply out of fear of something worse.

"Now you get to suck on it like it's your favourite lollipop." Beetlejuice grins at the sight beneath him.

Placing your lips around the head of his cock you lightly suck on it. Feeling his cock twitch you jump a little. You hear him chuckle. As you continue you slowly take in more of his length. You start to set a pace you're comfortable with. He pushes the vail of your head and puts a hand in your hair. He groans softly. Burying his fingers in your hair as he leans his head backwards.

You start to feel a tingle between your legs. It feels.. good? Sucking his dick you feel yourself get gradually wet. Did you enjoy this? You felt so conflicted. So good, but so bad at the same time. He started to push your head faster, forcing you to pick up the pace. Your jaw becoming tired. Your eyes starting to tear up. Feeling saliva build up and drip out of your mouth. It felt so weirdly good. Your close your eyes and melt into the motion of sucking him of. Suddenly he pulls himself out with a pop. You breathe heavily. Opening your eyes again you see him jerk his cock.

"Here's some holy water for ya.. " Beetlejuice groans out as he comes on your face.

You quickly close your eyes and feel the warm trickling of cum landing all over your face.

"What a pretty mess. " He says with admiration in his voice. His voice sounded softer.

He pulls you up by your arm. You can feel him use the skirt of your attire to dry off your face. As you open your eyes you got a short glimpse of him looking so gentle. He looked so..charming. You couldn't believe that such a man could actually look handsome.

"What? Never seen a dead guy facefuck and cum on a nuns face before?" He spits out with a grin.

Your expression change. Shocked at what he just said.

Dead!?

Is he a fucking ghost?

Did you just suck off a ghost?

Feeling cold you take a step back. Not sure how to process the information you just got. But before you get as much as a word out he rips your attire open.Feeling the air on your body you try desperately to cover up. Your attire is completely torn. It's hopeless. He snorts at your try.

Slowly he looks you up and down. He takes in all the new details that had revealed themselves. You wore beautiful black lingerie. Fishnet stockings. Your rosary dangling between your breasts. The subtle shape the nipplepiercings gives out in the brah. Your tattoos. He never thought a nun could do that.

But you were different.

He liked it.

You look away, not wanting the attention. Suddenly Beetlejuice pikcs you up and puts you over his shoulder.Surprised by the act you try to wiggle and get down. You want to run. He slaps your ass to warn you. You make a sharp inhale at the sudden pain. But it didn't hurt as bad as you thought it would. You give up and just hang there with your arms crossed.You didn't understand where he was going. When you start to look around you notice how different things looks.The light from outside is dark red. There's a ton of candles everywhere that you haven't put out. Not to mention lit any of them. You feel like the church itself has become deranged and darker somehow. Only lit up by the flickering glow of candles. Weird.

As you're put down again you recognise where you ended up. The main altar in front of the big cross. He sat you down on the altar. Shit. He's looming over you with a hungry look. Licking his lips as he puts his hand on each of your thighs. He maintains eyes contact as he moves. You quickly squeeze your tights together. A bit scared.

"Aw come on now. Spread your legs and show me the gate to heaven baby." He gives you a softer and more seductive smirk than before.

He leans in closer to your face. Your eyes betrays you as they give a quick look at his lips. You blush again at the thought of his lips. Catching the glimpse you got of his lips he puts a hand softly behind your head. He connects your lips in a surprisingly passionate kiss. You can't help but melt into it and close your eyes. He pushes his tounge into your mouth. Exploring every part of it. He tastes like earth. It feels like nothing you've felt before. You breathe heavily as you part your lips, your eyes fluttering open. He gently tries to push your thighs apart. You allow him but feel embarrassed to spread your legs this way. He slides a hand up your thigh until he reaches your panties. He gently rubs his thumb against you. He can feel how wet you actually are through your panties. Starting to pull them off you stop him. Placing your hand on his.

"I'm.." You can't finish the sentence.

Beetlejuice looks at you. He knows.

"I know you're a virgin." A soft and understanding voice. You didn't expect him to actually be a bit comforting. Or to even care. You look into his eyes and give him a soft nod.

"I'll start gentle. I promise."

He grins slightly. You felt a tingling sensation and butterflies in your belly from his words. He cups you cheek and gives you a soft kiss.After gently pulling your panties of he slides his thumb through your slick folds. He smirks at the view and feeling. Watching your reactions. You hold back a moan. Your eyes closed so you wouldn't feel so embarrassed. You feel him lean in next you your ear. His low gravely whisper making your back arch slightly.

"I'm gonna show ya why I'm known as the ghost with the most"

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punsmaster69 · 7 months

Text

19/OCT/20XX

at some ungodly hour, i woke up on the couch, papyrus sitting beside me.

i tried to get to the kitchen and snag something from the fridge without waking him, but he hopped up the second i set foot in the kitchen.

"...'sup, paps. sorry to wake you."

"HOW ARE YOU FEELING?"

"i'm good. pretty hungry, though."

"I'M GOING TO TAKE IT THAT YOUR LACK OF PUPILS IS.. NOT INTENTIONAL."

"...what?"

"they're gone?"

closed, open.

open, closed.

"nothing?"

"THEY'RE STILL GONE."

"..literally knocked my lights out, huh? weird."

"CAN YOU SEE ALRIGHT?"

"vision's the same."

in the light of the fridge, i could see him anxiously fidgeting.

"i feel fine, so you should go back to sleep."

"just gonna eat and then.."

"..well. can't say i'm very tired anymore, so i guess i'll just hang out. watch tv or something."

"I.."

"I'M NOT TIRED, EITHER!"

"..SO, I'LL ALSO JUST HAVE TO 'HANG OUT' ."

"ok. you want me to grab you anything while i'm here?"

he shook his head.

paps quietly observed me the whole time, but i don't know what for.

kept opening his phone, typing to someone.

"who else is up at this hour to be responding to you?"

"ALPHYS HAS YET TO FALL ASLEEP."

"wanna see if she wants to hang out too? that way we can all be nighttime losers together."

"..EXCLUDING THE LOSERS PART, A SLEEPLESS SLEEPOVER SOUNDS HELPFUL!"

"helpful?"

"FUN. I MEANT FUN."

——

"heya."

"Hey-"

"EEK!!"

"Wh-why are your eyes off?!"

"dunno. woke up with 'em stuck."

"HELLO ALPHYS!"

"Hi, Papyrus."

they exchanged a series of looks whose meanings were lost on me.

"..so whenever you're done with the staring contest, there's blankets here for you, alphys.

"Oh- um, yeah. S-sorry. Thanks, Sans."

——

"ARE THERE REALLY BEINGS UP THERE IN THE SKY??"

"This is show is (very) fake, Papyrus."

"REALLY?"

"what, you don't believe in aliens?"

"I do! What I 𝗱𝗼𝗻'𝘁 believe is that they'd visit Earth to draw circles in farmland and steal cows."

"WHY WOULD THEY NEED SO MANY?"

"Exactly!"

"Totally ridiculous."

"maybe they wanna make their own farm."

"But why the crop circles?"

"i'm not one to judge someone's artistic medium."

"What meaning do those hold??"

"PERHAPS THEY ARE SUGGESTING THAT LIFE IS BUT A CIRCLE THAT LOOPS ENDLESSLY."

"........."

"that's crazy talk."

"YEAH, YOU'RE RIGHT."

"CIRCLES ARE PROBABLY JUST THEIR FAVORITE SHAPE!"

"I guess that could be true."

"Still, weird place for it."

"maybe they buried treasure."

"THAT'S CRAZY TALK, TOO!!"

"All of this is crazy to begin with."

"true."

——

tori called me, hearing from papyrus that i was awake now.

we got off-topic quickly.

"i think my shirt has a hole in it."

"Would you like for me to lend you another one?"

"...i'll just sew it at some point."

"Hehe, okay. If you say so."

"What a shame, I was looking forward to finding the most embarrassing thing in my closet for you."

"the previous time was intentional?"

"..No! I do not know why you would ever think that."

"i feel less bad about that skeleton-hand shirt, now."

"What a shame it is for you, that I like it so much."

"I have been wearing it to bed as pajamas, since it is not quite appropriate for my little ones to see."

"probably for the best."

if flowey saw it.. my cause of death might suddenly change from 'unknown illness' to 'botany accident'.

"You are sounding a lot less drained today."

"Are you feeling better now?"

"yeah, way better."

"I am glad to hear that."

"Is your eye feeling better, as well?"

"they, uh, don't hurt, anymore...?"

"But, something is different?"

"....."

"nah. they're all good."

"Sans..."

"...."

"If they are 'all good' as you say, you would not mind turning on your camera, would you?"

i stared at the enable camera button on my phone.

it stared back.

"i'm.."

"naked."

"totally bones out-"

"Sans."

"ribs in the open air-"

"𝘚𝘢𝘯𝘴."

"You mentioned your shirt a mere moment ago."

"So unless simply talking to me over the phone was enough to make you strip..."

"Please show me your eyes."

damn it.

"...Please, uncover the camera."

"it's not covered. must be broken."

".........."

the disappointment was loud. i slid my finger off the camera.

"it-"

"this doesn't hurt, at all."

"my sight still works, and-"

"Does that not hinder your ability to express emotion?"

"like i did much of that."

"Sans, a monster's ability to express themselves is one of the most important things they could lose."

"they'll come back. i'll survive without 'em for a while."

"Have you tried doing it manually?"

"like...?"

"Can you use magic to return your pupils?"

"i-"

"Please, just try."

"....ok."

𝗰𝗹𝗶𝗰𝗸,

....

𝗰𝗹𝗶𝗰𝗸.

"......"

"anything?"

"Yes!"

"..huh."

had a slight ache in my skull before, but it felt like it got a little better all of a sudden.

"Without your pupils, you have quite the threatening energy about you."

"oh. ..yeah."

"It is nice to see your expressions again!"

"...."

"guess i'll keep doing this, then."

"There is nothing else I should be concerned about, is there?"

"that's it."

"It is easier to tell whether you are being truthful or not!"

"nevermind. i'm turning 'em off."

"Do not!"

"don't need an automatic lie detector on my face."

"It is so nice to see you look my way."

"..if you turned on your camera, i'd have more to look at."

".....Then, give me just a moment."

after about a minute, she returned.

"I apologize. I had to find some pants."

"n-"

"no worries."

tori turned on her camera.

i waited in anticipation as it loaded.

her fur was slightly ruffled, which she also said sorry for.

"I hope you do not mind too much."

"not- not at all. it's cu-"

"uh, looks. looks good."

"You are also looking good, for a skeleton sitting in bed right now."

"thanks. guess that's why they call it beauty sleep."

"It must be!"

——

she stared at me intently, as if trying to memorize my features.

"you're not gonna forget me that quickly, right?"

"Forgetting you would not be easy. I simply wish to have your image as fresh as possible in my mind."

"..You cannot stare back!"

"why not?"

"I am appreciating your candid face."

"...it's hard to stay that way when you're looking at me like that."

tori leaned even closer to the phone.

i covered the camera.

"Awww."

"I suppose I should go back to sleep now, anyway."

"Good night, Sans."

"goodnight, tori."

"....."

"I care for you very much. Please be safe."

"i ..care for you, too."

i stared at the blank phone screen for a while, replaying the call in my mind.

my soul felt like it was gonna jump out of my chest.

eventually gathering myself, i reentered the living room to join papyrus and alphys.

#journal #undertale #sans #papyrus #alphys #toriel #toriel dreemurr #soriel #sans x toriel #toriel x sans #sans and papyrus #papyrus and sans #papyrus and alphys #sans and alphys

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detectivelokis · 10 months

Text

2 for 1 Uquizes

Tagged by: @g0dspeeed @socially-awkward-skeleton @theelderhazelnut and @nightbloodbix to take these quizzes 🖤 I just did Charlie this go around.

Tagging: @sstewyhosseini @jinfromyarikawa @marivenah @river-ward @nightwingshero @madparadoxum @strangefable @clicheantagonist @aceghosts @simply-jason @confidentandgood @poisonedtruth @risingsh0t @swanfey @bunfey @direwombat @inafieldofdaisies @indorilnerevarine and anyone else who wants to tag me. Big sleepy and I know I forgot people.

What Does Your Heart Look Like?:

iced over, out of the sun

Your heart is very lonely, isn’t it? Is your fortress of ice self-made? Are others afraid of you, or are you afraid of them? Are you afraid of hurting them, or of being hurt? Vulnerability and connection can be frightening, but that’s no reason to shy away from their light, to tuck yourself small into corners, to build up frigid walls to keep yourself from feeling. You will heal when you allow yourself to draw closer to the flames and thaw.

What Does Your Path Lead To?:

The Black Hole

You are collapsing forevermore, a million deaths over and over again, the cycle unbroken. Still, there is hope at the end of everything. Does an ending have to sad? Does it have to be tragic? What was it you were hoping for, wailing and weeping, screams of anguish and loss? The end came not with a bang but with a soft sigh, a tired farewell and a loving embrace of a friend you had forgotten. You are dust, shimmering colorful, blown into the endless universe. A new adventure awaits you, my dear, I will dip my hands into your particles and paint you a new path along the milky way.

#I’m not sure how well these fit tbh #but I do love the results ngl #oc: charlie berger #uquiz tag

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noffy96 · 11 months

Text

Random thought / headcanon about nightmare being turned back to his passive form

I like to think about this situation. Cause nightmare would have become quite reliant on his tentacles in his corrupted state.

I almost never see him use anything else from magic.

So first he's gotta learn how the fuck to do that? Depending on how angsty the story you wanna make it. The bad sanses either leave him. Or stay.

But id think they stay. The boss helped them all those years. It's their turn.

They try a bunch of different things. Using magic to make a weapon. And hand crafting them.

It's quickly apperent crafted won't work. His passive body is way weaker. The corruption using all of it for its own. Leaving the body only to grow. Even the side of nightmares eyes is just a big hole

But making a magic weapon doesn't seem to work either. He can conquer some bone attacks but nothing more impressive than any skeleton. And he needs more defences.

It's killer that comes up with a wild soliton

(okay I dunno if this is true? I only read dreamtale once ages ago...and not sure if this a headcanon or not. )

But Dreams staff/bow was made from a branch from the tree of feelings. Maybe nightmare needs something similar.

So with some difficulty they manage to get there. But it has been centuries. There is only the stump and they cant do things with that.

They search around. Eventually horror finds two thick broken pieces of what was once a great branch. There not very tall. They fit into the palm of his hands.

He brings them back to the boss anyway. Nightmare immediately notices these did belang to his mothers tree the second he holds them.

And he tries to use magic. It takes a couple of frustrating tries. But eventually he is able to turn both of them into weapons

One inta a whip. And one into a Morning star.

(both quite long ranched weapons like his tentacles were.)

At a later date. He learns if he slams the two pieces together. He can transform them into a large pole that he can use to fight. But often uses it to quickly travel over the terrain.

So yeah

Think those kind of weapons be fun. Maybe I draw a sketch of it someday.

#noffys rambles #noffy's rambling #noffy's headcanons #nightmare sans #passive nightmare #bad sanses #headcanon #undertale #dreamtale nightmare

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angel-jada · 1 year

Text

1NC0M1NG CH4T FR0M . . . . . RORONOA ZORO

✩ F0RUM N4M3 . . . . . KUNOICHI

✩ F0RUM C0NT3NT . . . . . the slightest hint of sip zoro, the story of how you met the strawhat crew ( and your swordsman ), f! reader, you’re a badass, Luffy saves you, nothing too crazy

✩ 4UD10 R3CS . . . . . I WANNA BE YOURS / arctic monkeys

I can’t believe I didn’t account for this. I am such an idiot.

You knew the creak of a disembarking ship all too well, which only told you that the Strawhats were back way before the estimated time.

This is the last time I trust Kovu with gathering intel.

Sighing, you placed the rolled up prints of poneglyph in their respective tubes, then tied them to your back, silently ducking into the shadows when hearing footsteps outside the door.

You were currently aboard the Thousand Sunny, the flagship of the Strawhats, trying to steal their poneglyph prints for your boss.

It was a simple job, too. They were docked at some random island for supplies, the reindeer that was left behind to watch the ship had fallen asleep, and it was broad daylight.

No one would suspect a thing.

You should’ve been back on land by now, handing over the prints and finally breaking free from his abusive reign.

This job was your ticket to freedom.

Yet Kovu just had to fuck shit up.

I can’t stayed holed up in this room forever. They’ll get too far from land.

With a huff, you slowly opened the door, happy to sense that no one was around.

I need to find a way to get to the back of the ship. I can jump from there, and probably swim back.

You ran lightly towards the stairs, happy you went barefoot for this mission instead of using your getas.

There was no possible way to get back there without being seen, so the least you could do was be fast about it.

You were up the stairs in a blink and now running straight for the gigantic cannon-looking thing attached to the back of the boat.

Almost home free.

For the first time in who remembers when, you smiled, freedom just in reach.

Until it wasn’t.

“YOHOHOHOHO! Um, guys! There’s a lovely lady that is trying to sneak off the ship! AHHHHH! SHE HAS THE PONEGLYPHS!” A skeleton man shrieked, landing in front of and blocking your easy exit, drawing a sword from his cane.

Dammit! Time to try the front!

You back flipped, twisting yourself in the air so you landed the opposite way, allowing you to book it in the other direction.

“You can’t be serious!” an redheaded woman exclaimed, running up the steps and to the back deck with a small orange and white staff in hand.

Cat Burglar Nami.

She ran at you, the staff extending into something much larger.

She swung, aiming for your head but you dropped into a side lunge, using your extended leg to sweep her feet and knock her on her ass.

You grabbed her staff as he was distracted, squeezing it by accident. Out of nowhere, it extended impossibly long, shooting you into the air.

Luck may be on my side today.

You smirked as you flew up the side of the mast, getting about halfway up before planting your feet on it, running up the rest of the way.

You managed to get to the yard, perching yourself so you could look for another form of escape, when you sensed something.

Nico Robin.

You jumped off the yard, grabbing onto it like a monkey bar just as four pale arms sprouted from the wood, attempting to grab you.

“Whoa! That’s so cool!” a giddy voice exclaimed from below.

Your gaze slowly shifted to the deck below, only to see that trademark hat, and the notorious man that it rested on.

Strawhat!

You could sense another attack coming your way so you swung yourself as if you were on uneven bars and let go, flying into the air.

“Is she nuts?! She’s gonna kill herself from that height!” a large man with weirdly shaped blue hair exclaimed from below.

Cyborg Franky.

The swing was too short. You wouldn’t go overboard.

Curse these heavy cuffs!

One silver cuff was attached to each of your ankles, their being there out of your control.

Noticing you were getting dangerously close to the ground, you imbued your legs with some haki and landed safely, creating a small crater on the grassy deck.

As the dust settled, you realized you were surrounded by Strawhat, Zoro, and Blackfoot.

Shit.

“GAHHHH! SHE’S SO GORGEOUS! LOOK AT HER SHORT KIMONO!” Sanji shrieked as his eyes turned into hearts and blood shot from his nose.

Despite the blonde man’s...awkward display, you sensed another pair of eyes on you, so much so that it practically burned.

The Pirate Hunter?

The second you turned to him, your heart caught in your throat.

You had seen his face on his wanted poster a few times before, and you’d be stupid to deny that he wasn’t a handsome man, but looking at him in the flesh... the pictures didn’t even begin to do him justice.

And before you even realized, the two of you locked eyes, and in an instant, it felt as if your legs turned to jelly.

A warm, fluttery feeling spread throughout your stomach, and it felt as if everything else in the world had stopped.

What is this? Was I poisoned?

Just going off his glare, you could already tell that most cowered under his gaze. So why were you reacting this way?

You mentally slapped yourself.

You have to focus.

“You. What are you doing on my ship? And why are you stealing Robin’s poneglyphs?” Strawhat asked seriously, his face quite the contrast from his giddy expression before.

You sighed.

There was no way you could lie out of this mess.

“I am a kunoichi of Iguro clan. And I have been ordered to steal your poneglyph prints,” you stated, your tone firm.

“Any idea why?” Nami asked, her and the rest of the crew walking over.

“None. I am left completely in the dark,” you shook your head.

Your expression quickly turned determined.

“But I do know that this final job is my one way ticket out of hell, so peacefully or not, I’m leaving.”

You lowered yourself into a fighting stance, glaring at Strawhat as his lips grew a smirk.

He cracked his knuckles. “Alright then.”

“Luffy you better not hurt her!” Sanji fumed from the side.

Using your haki, you peered into the near future to see him punch you with an extended arm.

Can’t have that.

“Gum Gum Pistol!”

You tilted to the side, avoiding his hit with ease.

The entire crew gaped, save for Zoro.

Strawhat’s grin grew even larger, if that was possible, and wound up both arms.

A barrage of fists.

“Gum Gum Gatling!”

The barrage came quickly, but you dodged just like the first, flipping, lunging, and performing splits to dodge.

Imbuing your arms with haki, you grabbed one of his arms, harshly pulling him towards you. And like a bungee cord, he came, and you slammed a flattened hand into the pressure point on his neck, knocking him out.

“Luffy!” the crew exclaimed.

Zoro quickly drew two of his swords and ran for you, so you immediately dropped his captain and drew your own katana, meeting his two with a loud clash.

He smirked, which made that fluttery feeling return to your stomach. “I see you use Ittoryu.”

You smirked right back. “I’m knowledgeable in the style, yes.”

The both of you pushed off, returning to your stances before running at each other again.

Swords flew through the air as the both of you met the others attack perfectly.

You lunged into an attack, but he blocked it yet again, so you hook the outstretched foot to his ankle, deepening your lunge to pull him down.

He grunted, doing everything he could to keep his stance planted and balanced, so you imbued your foot with haki, and he did the same for his.

He seemed almost amused at the fact that you were still pushing your sword against his, openly showing that you were incredibly close to him in strength.

Not even Tashigi could do that.

And not only was he amused by the woman in front of him, but in silent awe.

Sure, your beauty was what caught his attention first. You had every feature that a woman would kill for.

Smooth, chestnut skin, plump lips, beautiful hip dips and curves, and beautiful (e/c) pearls, that looked as if they held galaxies in your glance.

But now that he saw your fighting prowess and raw strength along with it, well you could say you had him hook, line, and sinker.

You still kept strong, keeping your sword firm in it’s place as the Pirate Hunter continued to push down.

That is, until the pain equivalent of a thousand lightning bolts stemmed from your ankles, and you let on a cry of pain.

No! Not now!

Zoro realized this and quickly pulled away his swords before the electricity could be conducted to him.

You dropped your katana, falling over as you held yourself in agony, muffling your shouts of pain on your forearm.

“What’s wrong? What did you do to her, marimo?!” Sanji asked, yelling at the green-haired swordsman.

“I didn’t do anything to her!” Zoro fired back, glaring at the cook.

He didn’t know why, but seeing you in so much pain made him hurt. It was a sharp pulling feeling, as if his heart was on a string connected to you.

“The shocks seem to be coming from her ankles,” Robin pointed out, everyone’s attention turning to the cuffs that adorned your feet.

“How do we get it off her? ‘Cause that looks super painful,” Franky asked, grimacing at the sight of you writhing in pain.

It was then that Strawhat got back up from the ground, looking at you with a blank face.

“Oi, (y/n), can you hear me?” your boss asked, his voice coming from the cuffs.

“Shit,” you cursed, weakly trying to get up.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” you could practically hear his smirk of the other side.

“Lemme cut to the chase. You failed your mission, plain and simple. So you know the consequences.”

Your eyes went wide and tears threatened to spill as you realized what he meant.

“No!” you emptily gasped, trying to speak through the pain. “I’ve...I’ve worked with you for 10 years! My debt is paid! We had an agreement!”

“You stupid girl!” he shouted. “I was never going to honor our agreement! You’re too good of an assets to pass up! You will work under me for the rest of your pathetic, little life!”

The ship went dead silent, the Strawhat crew looking at you sorrily as tears poured down your cheeks.

10 years of your life, gone. All because you believed the word of a pirate.

He was right. You really were a stupid.

Painfully, you turned to Strawhat, who looked over the situation intently.

That’s when you got an idea. And settled on it in a blink.

Down on your hands and knees, you bowed your head to the captain, the rest of the crew letting out quiet gasps.

“Strawhat, I...hnnggh...I apologize for knocking you out earlier and...un-understand that I am in no place to ask you for such a favor but,”

You lowered your head to the ground, accepting that you would have to die in a state of embarrassment and weakness.

“Please kill me.”

If you thought the crew was shocked before, they were flabbergasted now.

Even Zoro.

“I’ve wasted the last 10 years of my life with that monster. And now that there is no end in sight, I do not wish to live.”

Strawhat kept the same neutral face as he slowly approached.

You took a deep breath, smiling as you realized your suffering would soon be over, and the bliss of nothingness would welcome you.

But it never came.

Strawhat instead walked past you, silently, and you understood.

I should’ve known.

Such a favor couldn’t be done for someone who just stole from him.

Suddenly, you felt the weight release from your ankles, and the shocks stop.

Your eyes shot wide as you lifted your head, snapping your head around to see that Strawhat had broken off the cuffs for you.

“Hey, guy! I don’t know if you can hear me anymore, but know that (y/n) is under my protection! And she won’t be paying back your stupid debt anymore!” he shouted into the broken pieces.

The small stream of tears that were rolling down your cheeks were now complete waterfalls.

In one motion, a man that you had just met, a man that you tried to steal from, had set you free. After 10 years of hellish torture, you were finally free.

But you still tried to compose yourself, sniffling as he turned back around to face you.

“Why didn’t you kill me?” you quietly asked, looking away from the man.

His smile grew into full on grin. “All you needed was a little help, there was no reason to kill you.”

Your eyes went wide.

There was no way. This had to be a trick.

“Next time just ask.”

Your ears perked at that part.

“Next time?” you asked.

“Oh, yeah! I meant to ask. Do ya wanna join my crew? It’d be so cool if we had a kunoichi!” He cheesed.

You were shocked to say the least, looking over the rest of the crew’s faces to see that they were smiling as well.

Never before had you been met with such kindness. He wasn’t even getting anything in return.

You sniffled, clearing your throat. “I would like that,” you smiled, looking down at the ground.

And as he cheered, and ordered Black Leg to cook a banquet in celebration, you wiped a stray tear from your cheek, looking up to the clear, blue sky.

Strawhat Luffy would never know the bounds of your thanks.

You could never repay him.

#one piece #one piece fluff #one piece angst #roanoa zoro #zoro x reader #roronoa zoro #roronoa x reader #zoro x y/n #roronoa zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x y/n

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late-to-the-magnus-archives · 1 year

Text

QUIT: a One-Shot Magnus Archives Fic

It’s a stupid-drafty manor—huge, never properly lit, all its frippery fraying at the edges. It has literal skeletons in the walls. It has too many rooms, a foyer right out of Crimson Peak, an empty cement hole with crumbling cherubs in the back yard that might have once been someone’s idea of a pond, and a library with more cursed books than Gerry could shake a match at.

The part of Gerry that once used Sharpies to blacken his eyebrows loves this place with a truly unholy passion.

If only it didn’t belong to the reason the world was going to end.

——-

Tragedy one-shot? Check.

Extinction Martin? Check.

Gerry/Jon if you squint? Check.

Bittersweet ending? Check.

Major character death. Y'all are warned.

AO3 link | Playlist

QUIT

“Really?” says Gerry.

Jon won’t look at him. Instead, he exhales, smoke funneling between his lips in a slow, controlled fog. “Really.”

Gerry rolls his eyes.

“I felt that,” says Jon, who isn’t looking at him, who doesn’t need to look at him anymore to know what Gerry does.

“So today’s a day of broken promises, is it?” says Gerry, leaning on the wall beside him. The brick shows through his arms; breeze picks up, erasing the evidence of Jon’s transgression, but doesn’t move Gerry’s long hair at all.

“I’m not breaking a promise,” says Jon. “I’m… relapsing.”

“Elias?” says Gerry.

“No,” says Jon, and takes another drag.

Gerry’s sigh matches pace with Jon’s exhale. Elbow on the wall, he props his head on his hand, watching Jon.

“So it’s floors and short walls, now,” Jon remarks, still not looking at him. “Or are you just pretending to lean on that? Getting a ghostly core workout? Or is it only horizontal structures that support you?”

Gerry laughs softly. “Keep asking, Archivist. I’m sure it’ll all make sense someday.”

“There have to be rules of some kind,” Jon says, and points at Gerry with the cigarette. “And you know not to call me Archivist.”

“If you’re going to be a twat, I get to call you what I want,” says Gerry.

Jon doesn’t rise to that, doesn’t respond at all, and that’s how Gerry knows it was really bad today.

Jon exhales again.

The smoke drifts away from them, lingering over dead grass, past the few old-growth trees in the back of the estate, dissipating in the direction of the town.

“So,” says Gerry, drawing the word out. “What’d he do?”

“Made me watch,” says Jon, which means exactly nothing.

“That’s every day.” And he guesses. “Did you finally find Martin?”

Jon’s jaw tightens. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“That’s nice,” says Gerry, who never learned good boundaries growing up, who never lived in a world that rewarded them. “What was it then? Basira hot on the trail?”

“Fuck,” says Jon, so quietly it almost didn’t happen, and finally stubs out the cigarette on the wall. Defiantly, he leaves it there.

“You know that won’t upset Elias, right?” says Gerry as Jon walks away. “You’re littering, Dickavist.”

Jon pauses. “Pick it up yourself, then, unless the rules say you can’t,” he snaps, and walks away.

Wow. It was really bad today.

Gerry shrugs to no one and floats back inside.

Gerry still doesn’t feel things the way he should. There’s a numbness there, silently stifling; it got really bad when Herbert and Montauk still had his book. When he still was a book.

But like his ability to touch, it’s been slowly getting better, too. Maybe it’s because of Jon, maybe not; this is all unknown territory.

One thing Gerry feels quite keenly now, as he floats inside: Elias is a monster, but damn, the man has taste.

It’s a stupid-drafty manor—huge, never properly lit, all its frippery fraying at the edges. It has literal skeletons in the walls. It has three cellars and an underground rail line to an abandoned coal mine. It has too many rooms, a foyer right out of Crimson Peak, an empty cement hole with crumbling cherubs in the back yard that might have once been someone’s idea of a pond, and a library with more cursed books than Gerry could shake a match at.

The part of Gerry that once used Sharpies to blacken his eyebrows loves this place with a truly unholy passion.

If only it didn’t belong to the reason the world was going to end.

“Still here?” says Elias, who manages to pull off the velvet dressing gown look. The man looks sleepy; he’s got tea in a china cup so fine that even the diffused light of this place makes it glow. “You’re free to wander, you know. You could go elsewhere and bother other people.”

Slowly, languorously, Gerry flips him off with both hands.

Elias sighs. “I will find your book, Mr. Keay. When I do, there are many things I could do with it that do not involve your… release. One might think you have better things to do than aggravate me in the interim.”

“One might think you have better things to do than suck a dick,” says Gerry with great cheer.

“So you talked to Jon.” Elias sips his tea.

Gerry doesn’t deny it. He knows he’s always bitchier after Elias has finished with Jon for the day, and he is long past the point where anything like that could embarrass him. “Get anything out of the daily torture session?”

“Yes,” says Elias. “Martin’s taken a secondary school.”

Ah.

Gerry sighs. “Well, that explains that.”

“Indeed.” Elias sips. “Unfortunately, it seems to have brought out Jon’s more… obstreperous nature.. He walked out before we were finished. Quite inconvenient.”

Even knowing how awful he is, some days, Elias still takes Gerry’s breath away. “Wow,” Gerry says. “Wow.”

“Yes, yes. I’m quite the monster. If you see him, do tell him we need to continue, won’t you? Unless he wants more schools to be taken, of course.” And Elias continues down the hall toward whatever psychopath thing he has next on his agenda.

Gerry had been going to give Jon some space. Jon wasn’t fun to be around when he was in his head quite this deeply, but a school…

Children…

Gerry sighs. “Damn,” he mutters to himself, going through the trouble of walking up the stairs instead of floating.

He doesn’t want the Extinction to win.

He doesn't care that much about what any of the Fears are doing these days, particularly. But the Extinction just feels so… personal.

Offensive, Gerry realizes, and puzzles over that thought. He finds the Extinction offensive, and isn’t sure why.

He doesn’t bother to knock on Jon’s door.

Jon’s on the canopy bed, fully clothed, face down.

“Nice,” says Gerry, floating over. “I’d paint this, if I could still hold a brush. Call it, Perfectly Useless Despair, and hang it on the front wall.”

Jon is silent.

Gerry goes for broke. “Elias told me it was a school.”

“Secondary school,” says Jon into his pillow. “Children. Small children, turned to pieces of warped plastic and concrete. Small children, their shadows ripped away from them with screams and transformed into Inheritors that only vanished in the sunlight because we got damned lucky. Children. Martin… Martin’s…” Jon stops.

Gerry climbs onto the bed and lies on his back next to Jon, staring at the faded canopy. “Well,” he says. “That sucks.”

Jon pushes himself up on his elbows just so he can scowl at him.

Gerry looks at him, expression mild.

Jon’s scowls are cute. Gerry wants to muss his hair. He suspects he might be able to, soon. He’s getting a lot better at touching things these days.

“So?” says Gerry. “What’s to be done about it?”

“Nothing,” Jon snaps. “That’s the… that’s the whole thing. There’s nothing to be done.”

“Not according to Elias,” says Gerry.

“Elias is wrong,” says Jon, just because.

“Then why are you still here?” says Gerry. “Letting him use you like this.”

He wonders if Jon has any idea how good his sad puppy look is. Probably not.

“Because he might not be wrong,” says Jon, softer. “What if I can stop him, somehow? What if I…” Jon flops back down, face into the pillow.

“I mean, you can’t,” says Gerry. “That’s not what you’re trying to do, remember? Not stop him. Expose him. But you still think you can save him instead, don’t you? Pull him back from the fire, and all that?”

“He doesn’t know what he’s doing,” says Jon into the pillow. “He’s not… evil. He’s lost.”

“I think you’re half right,” says Gerry. “He’s lost. He’s lost his hope, lost his way, lost everything. Thinks this is what has to happen, somehow. But he does know what he’s doing.”

Jon makes a small, heartbroken sound.

Gerry likes Jon’s sounds—he’s such a vocal person—but not the bad ones. Not this.

So he goes for truth as the only healing balm he knows.

“I can’t even see him like you do, and I know he knows what he’s doing. You won’t be able to help him if you don’t acknowledge that much.” Gerry’s tone isn’t gentle. He doesn’t really do gentle; it seems like false comfort, unfamiliar and cheap.

Jon shakes a little. Possibly crying.

Gerry purses his lips. “Hey.”

Nothing.

“Hey. Let me ask you this. If you could talk to Martin now—but not as he is now, before Peter got hold of him, and it all went wrong—what do you think he’d want you to do?”

“You sound like Elias,” says Jon, and the tightness in his voice says Gerry was right about the crying.

“Stab a man in the heart, why don’t you,” says Gerry. “Really, though. Would he ask you to just let him wander around doing this? Or would he ask you to stop him?”

“He’d ask me to save him,” says Jon, and they both know it’s a lie.

“Uh, huh,” says Gerry. “So you think he wants you to save him, while it’s costing lives. Not stop him. To let more people die while you try to figure out a way to rescue someone completely consumed by a Fear.”

No one can undo that. They both know it.

“I,” says Jon.

“First time he’s done children, right?” says Gerry. “Won’t be the last. He’s been building up to it.”

“I know,” whispers Jon.

Gerry sighs.

Gerry knows Elias is waiting upstairs in hopes that Jon will resume their session—this intense diving into the Eye via both their powers, extending Jon’s abilities, utilizing Elias’ experience.

It’s brutal. It’s violational. It’s increasing Jon’s strength tenfold by the day, and… that’s what seems to be needed.

The more keenly Jon can see Martin, the better chance he has of seeing past his protections, making him vulnerable, somehow. Because apparently, Martin can’t just be shot, or blown up, or whatever, so it’s going to require something extra.

No one from the other powers will go near him anymore. Not since Martin turned Peter Lukas into a pressed-ash statue of himself. Not since Martin reduced Jared Hopworth to a pool of grease like dirty fossil fuel. Not since Jude Perry’s fire turned toxic, and she burned, screaming, leaving weird, sulfurous smears all over the road.

The Extinction isn’t vulnerable in any of the usual ways.

But Martin Blackwood might be. Which would require seeing him, stripping him free like peeling off his skin. Gerry’s not fully clear on how it works because he was never an avatar of anything. Just knew how to work the system, like his mum.

It’s all a mess.

“So,” says Gerry. “I have a growing suspicion.”

“Good for you,” mutters Jon.

“I think you’re already strong enough to do it.”

Jon goes so, so still.

Bingo, Gerry thinks, and is inordinately pleased that he knows something Elias (possibly) does not. “I’ve got an idea.”

Jon grunts.

“Let’s go for a walkabout.”

Jon turns his head slowly to stare at him.

Oh, hi, Gerry thinks, because their faces are inches apart, and it’s nice.

“A walkabout,” grumps Jon.

“Yeah,” says Gerry. “I’ll go with you. You don’t have to do anything. We’ll just… walk and see. Get out of the Haunted Mansion. Remember why you’re even bothering to try to stop the Extinction in the first place.”

Jon scowls.

“Afraid?” Gerry smirks at him.

“Don’t be absurd. Of course I am.”

“Good. You’ll go all superpowered then.”

Jon rolls his eyes.

Gerry thinks he can almost feel Jon’s irritated huff. Or maybe not, but it’s nice to imagine. “You really just want to stay here playing Vulcan mind-meld with Elias all day?”

“Ugh, no,” says Jon.

“Sooo?” says Gerry.

“You can do that?” says Jon, brow knitting thunderously. “Walkabout?”

“Yeah, I can.”

“How? Are you ever going to tell me how you’re getting stronger?” says Jon. “You don’t even seem to be… suffering anymore.”

He isn’t. “Sure, someday, I’ll tell you,” says Gerry. When Elias can’t see. When Elias can’t get involved, ruin things, bury them both in a bog.

Jon balances on the precipice of decision, and Gerry dearly wants to tip him over.

“You can eat ice cream while I moan lasciviously,” he says.

Jon laughs. “All right, all right,” he says, struggling off the over-soft mattress.

Gerry grins and hopes Elias is keeping score.

“I just don’t know why Martin came to Wales,” mutters Jon, his greatcoat fluttering in the wind, hands stuffed in his pockets. “Why we all had to get dragged here.”

Here is a lovely town called Caerphilly. It’s picturesque. There’s a cheese named after it. Merlin filmed here. It even has a castle.

It’s currently quarantined, traffic nearly gone, silent in the eerie way cities can be when humans have to stay inside.

“What, Elias’ Playboy Mansion doesn’t make it all worth the journey?” says Gerry.

Jon snorts. “He stole it.”

“Color me surprised. Did he kill anyone?”

Jon sighs. “Not exactly.”

Gerry waits. Jon doesn’t fill him in.

“Evil overlord, just less evil than the other evil overlord,” says Gerry, striding along beside him and absolutely unconcerned if anyone thinks he’s a ghost.

Jon doesn’t care, either. It’s all gone beyond that.

A woman hurries by, almost running. She’s carrying an umbrella, which she holds up to hide her face.

“They still think if he can’t see you, he can’t get you,” Jon murmurs, not turning his head to see her.

He. Martin.

“Makes sense,” says Gerry. “He was Eye, first. They all feel watched.”

“It’s not going to protect anyone,” says Jon. “They’re still going to work. They’re still going to school. He’s aiming for gatherings. Someone needs to tell them.”

The news hasn’t told anything much. Terrorist attacks is all that filters through, because nobody knows what it is, and the ECDC doesn’t know what it is, and whatever Section 31 officers are involved here have either succumbed to the trouble or have found nothing of use.

They won’t, either. There’s nothing of use to find.

“Good news,” says Gerry. “Nobody will tell them, and it’ll all get swept under the rug, and the conclusion will be utterly unsatisfying.”

Jon eyes him. “Thanks for that.”

“Not my first merry-go-round,” says Gerry.

“It’s the Senghenydd Disaster,” says Jon suddenly, knowing it. “It wasn’t the worst colliery tragedy, nor even the most damaging, but… for some reason, that’s the one. That’s the reason he came here.”

“A coal thing? Huh. Guess that works. Pollution, or whatever.”

“This isn’t Captain Planet,” Jon mutters.

Gerry beams at him like he won something. “A pop culture reference? Really?”

“I don’t live under a rock.”

“Debatable,” says Gerry, pleased that he can pull Jon out from under said rock.

“He came here because it’s the only vacation he remembers taking when his father was around, and he learned what happened, and that hundreds died because the recommended safety updates were ignored. Greed mattered more than lives. Martin learned about the explosions, and felt awful,” says Jon. “He got angry. Angry at humans for it. It seeded… something in him.”

“That’s sad,” says Gerry, and means it. “How does it all feel to you?”

“Doomed.” Jon sighs and hunches his shoulders. “I think he could be moving much faster than he is, though.”

“But he hasn’t. Maybe he’s waiting for you.”

Gerry hadn’t meant that to punch Jon in the chest, but it seems to have. Jon stops walking and closes his eyes.

“Hey. You’re supposed to eat ice cream while I moan at you, remember?” says Gerry.

Jon smiles weakly. “Yeah. Even though it’s cold.”

“Shop up there’s open.”

Jon doesn't order ice cream. He does get a tea.

The person behind the counter won’t look at them. Is wearing a hat with a visor that covers the top half of their face.

Jon sighs.

“What are they calling him now?” says Gerry.

“The Smoking Man,” says Jon. “That’s what the children who—“ He stops.

“They called him that? To his face?”

“They never even saw him. He walked into the school, and just… just walked through the halls, doing nothing, doing… everything. He didn’t even stop. He just walked through one door and out the other, and when he left, nothing in there was alive.”

“Definitely escalating, then.”

Jon stares at his tea.

“How many people live here?” says Gerry.

“Currently, down from 43,407 to 34,248. Most have left, but… quite a few have died.”

Gerry whistles, low. “And the rest can’t leave.”

“Definitely not. The ECDC won’t let them.”

“You’ve been strong enough to end this for a while now, haven’t you?” says Gerry.

Jon looks… so sad.

Gerry gets it. Sort of. He suspects Jon’s love is different from his in manifestation and form, but he sort of gets it. “Why, then, are you letting Elias do this to you every day?”

“As long as I cooperate, he won’t… he won’t just… try to use someone else,” says Jon.

“Can’t, can he? Long as you’re the—“ Gerry stage whispers—“Archivist.”

“He could do loads of things with cannon fodder. He could shoot me and pick someone else, too. But…“ Jon stops.

“But?”

“Something I figured out, is all. During our sessions.” Jon finally sips his tea, and makes a face. “Ugh.”

“Don’t leave me hanging.”

“I don’t know if he can hear us now, or see us, or anything,” says Jon. “I can’t say.”

“You think you know something he doesn’t know you know? He’s literally splashing around in your head like a kiddy pool half the day.”

Jon says nothing.

“You know, you could just… remove the problem,” says Gerry.

Jon understands what he’s saying. “If I kill him, I kill everyone who works at the Institute.”

Gerry sighs. “You can’t save everybody, can you?”

“You think I don’t know that?” Jon looks up, eyes burning, power thrumming through his gaze, and it’s so much.

Wow, Gerry thinks, and almost has to look away.

“You think I don’t know I can’t save everybody? That I keep having to… watch them die in front of me, or find out they died after a coma, or—“

“People die. It’s awful, but it happens.” Gerry puts his hand on Jon’s, and it works.

Jon freezes. Stares down.

His hand shows beneath Gerry’s, like an optical illusion.

“I know,” says Gerry. “All right? I know this isn’t easy. Neither of us have ever had easy choices to make. I get it.” It’s not gentle, but it is real, and it undoes some knot in Jon.

Jon slumps forward over his tea, not moving his hand. He covers his face with his other one. “I can’t save Martin. I know that.”

“So you’re just putting off the hard thing.”

“I… don’t want him to be him when I have to do whatever it is I have to do.”

“But if he’s gone that far, how many people will he have killed?”

Jon says nothing.

“What are you going to do, anyway?” Gerry says. “I get the exposing him, or whatever. But what then?”

“There’s a sniper.”

Gerry blinks. “What, really?”

“At least one. I haven’t looked that closely.”

“That would be a thing,” says Gerry, shaking his head.

Jon looks at their hands. “How did you do this?”

“Doesn’t matter right now,” says Gerry. “Wasn’t actually sure it would work.”

“Feels like a puff of air, almost.”

“Better than nothing. Hey—you’ll be able to share that cigarette soon.”

“After you made me promise to quit? You hypocrite,” says Jon, smiling weakly.

“Can dead people even be hypocrites?”

Jon laughs softly. It’s got a note of wonder in it, and Gerry privately determines to make him laugh like that again. “I don’t think even Thomas Aquinas thought of that one.”

“Bet you he did,” says Gerry. “And it’s in a weird manuscript that somehow got written by him three years before he was born, and Leitner got hold of it in 1973.”

“And it belongs to the Vast, and makes you dance on the head of a pin,” Jon says.

They both laugh.

Jon’s smile fades, and he holds Gerry’s gaze with one that no longer burns, but is just a man’s. “Elias wants me marked by the Extinction,” he says.

“What?”

“That’s why he’s so determined it’s got to be me. That… desire is enough for him to keep me alive, and not go after anyone else. And it’s important to me he doesn’t go after anyone else.”

“Marked by the—why?” says Gerry.

Jon looks down again. “I don’t think he wanted me to know, but… a little late for that.”

“I usually know more than you do in terms of the esoteric stuff,” says Gerry, “but you’ve lost me on this one.”

“He wants me marked by all of them. All the Fears. Then he thinks if I… do the Eye’s ritual, for the Watcher’s Crown—”

”But why would he… that wouldn’t just bring the Eye. If you were actually marked by everybody. That’d…” Gerry inhales. “Fuck me, that would work.”

Jon looks at him. “You got it already?”

He snorts. “The way I was raised? Yeah, of course. And yeah, it really would work. Heh—my mum would be eating herself if she found this out because she hadn’t thought of it first.” Gerry makes a face. “Though if she had….”

“She’d have tried it with you,” says Jon, quietly.

“Maybe,” he says. “After she figured out the whole von Closen legacy thing wasn’t going to happen.”

“You’re not exactly old,” says Jon. “She gave up on it awfully quickly.”

“Yeah, well.” Gerry shrugs. “She took it personally when I came out at fourteen. What can you do?”

“My grandmother never asked, nor addressed the topic in any way,” says Jon, looking at the table. “I have absolutely no idea how she’d have responded to something like asexuality. Physical intimacy did not exist in my house.”

Gerry shakes his head. “Meanwhile, my mum used to bring in random men for rituals she made up, and whatever she did to them, they always left tasting blood.”

“That’s… specific,” says Jon.

“Yeah, breakfast conversations were real fucked up,” says Gerry cheerfully.

“Makes me wonder how we aren’t all completely insane,” says Jon.

“We’re miracles,” says Gerry, so seriously that Jon laughs again.

“Dancing on the head of a pin.”

“Wings?”

“Of course we have wings, if we’re taking the place of angels,” says Jon, and it’s a smile like the hint of sunrise.

Then Jon goes very still. All the color drains from his face.

Gerry doesn’t even have to ask, but he does. “What?”

“He’s here.”

That was fast, thinks Gerry.

“Did you know this would happen?” whispers Jon.

“No.” It’s mostly true.

Jon stands, leaving his tea half-drunk, and heads out the door.

Gerry really wishes he’d been there to see Martin take out Peter Lukas. Though from what Jon told him, maybe it wouldn’t have been so good to see.

It had all been building for months to that one moment beneath the Institute, in the heart of the Panopticon that Gertrude hypothesized but never really found.

Months of Martin forced to study the Extinction, to obsess over it, to consider it from every angle.

Months of avoiding Jon while trying to save him, of bleeding himself out to keep Jon from drowning.

And there, standing over Jonah Magnus’ body while Elias and Peter had a smug-off, Martin was quietly breaking.

It must have been happening for some time, but who knew? It wasn’t like he’d talked to anyone.

And when Jon had arrived, trying to help, desperate to save Martin, Peter had just… reacted, shoving Jon into the Lonely without so much as a by-your-leave.

Because of a bet. Because, somehow, of Elias.

Jon had been trapped, separated as if by glass, and won’t talk about how it felt—but oh, he could still see what was happening.

Saw Martin’s face twist, something behind his eyes breaking.

Saw Elias’s expression change when he realized there’d been a miscalculation.

Saw Peter’s smirk as he turned back to Martin and told him to get stabbing.

Instead, Martin turned Peter into volcanic ash.

It wasn’t fast.

It wasn’t quiet.

Elias had already run, or he’d probably have died, too.

Jon had watched, his shouts muffled as if in snow, his self insubstantial and forever alone. Crying words he could not hear as he watched Martin sob on his knees, watched him beat his fists bloody on the ground, and then watched him… calm.

Watched Martin lift his head and look right at him, trapped in thick and choking mist.

And Martin watched Jon aching, watched Jon weeping, watched Jon feeling more separated than he ever had in his life.

And Martin had nodded, and just… walked away.

Like this had decided him.

Like he was done.

It had taken Jon a week to walk out of the Lonely on his own.

By then, it was far too late.

Gerry understands being done.

He’s been done. It’s a bad place to be.

Jon understands, too, though, and that’s… not so good.

Jon’s like a bloodhound now, marching up the street, up the hill, unerring in direction while Gerry follows behind.

It’s surprising to Gerry that he can feel Martin coming. It’s cold.

Not temperature-cold. This is some other kind of thing, a sucking thing, draining color and air and life.

They crest the hill, and there he is.

It just looks like Martin. A large man, sweet-faced, in a simple cable-knit sweater and jeans. There is nothing in his body language or expression that indicates any kind of threat.

With one exception.

Martin’s eyes are gone, and smoke curls from his skull like the lazy smolder from a dying junkyard fire.

“Hi, Jon,” says Martin, and it’s his voice, but it isn’t, and it itches in Gerry’s head, even though he doesn’t have a head to itch.

Jon is already crying, though quietly. Tears stream down his face, dampening his beard.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” says Martin, and it’s so gentle, and so kind. He holds out his hand.

Not what Gerry expected, that’s for sure.

“I’m so sorry,” says Jon.

“It’s okay,” says Martin. “I’ve fixed it.”

“Fixed… Martin, you’re killing people.”

“I’m saving them. Do you know what happens if they stay here? Do you?” And no one with smoke pouring out of their heads should seem so kind, and so certain, and so good. “They get eaten, or burned. Or chased, or manipulated. They get twisted, and isolated, and burrowed into, and stared at until they go mad. But you know that, Jon. It’s all happened to you already.”

His hand is still out, and it feels like the world has gone still.

Gerry says not one word. He has no idea if Martin could do something to him or not, but if they all get through this, he wants to be there after.

It surprises him, honestly. But it’s a good feeling, so Gerry settles into it and waits.

Jon seems to be trying to answer. He keeps swallowing, over and over, looking from Martin’s face to his hand. “I don’t understand.”

Martin smiles, and it is sweet like setting sun shining on honey. “I know. But I do.”

“Martin, they… were children.”

“Remember when you asked me to gouge out our eyes together and run away?” says Martin as if recalling a date.

Well, Jon hadn’t told Gerry about that. Mental note made.

“Yes,” whispers Jon.

“And I wouldn’t do it. Remember?”

“Yes,” whispers Jon.

“I’m sorry. You had the right idea.”

“I…”

Martin’s hand is still out.

Jon, seemingly unaware, has taken one step toward him.

“You put the choice on me, and I didn’t listen. Remember?”

Jon doesn’t answer this time. He’s unblinking, staring.

Martin waits. He’s as unmoving as the mountains.

“Why are you… telling me this?” says Jon. He takes another step.

“Because I made the hard choice this time. You don't have to, Jon. It's okay. Take my hand.”

Jon looks at it for a long moment, then back at Martin. “And what then?”

“And then we stop all of this. No rituals. No Entities. It’s all over. Take my hand.”

“I don’t… want to kill anyone,” says Jon.

“You don’t have to. I’m doing the hard thing so you don’t have to. I’m done, Jon. So are you. I’m done watching you be hurt. You’re done with all these people and everything as much as I am.”

Jon’s voice breaks. “I… I can’t.”

“Can’t what? Just be with me? I love you, you know.”

Jon’s shoulders slump. “I love you, too.”

“Just be with me. That’s all I want.”

“Until… it’s over?”

“Until it’s over. Just be with me. I don’t really want anything else.”

Jon’s walking, and reaching out.

And then Martin has him by the hand, and Martin is pulling him in, and they’ve come together with a slow perfection like the inevitable clash of stars, and Jon’s eyes close as they kiss, but Martin’s don’t.

And Martin’s dipping him just slightly, just enough to keep Jon off balance, and Jon’s arms are around his neck, and the kiss goes on, and on, and on.

Gerry forgot that Jon doesn’t need to have his eyes open anymore to do things.

Things are changing.

Jon fits in Martin’s arms, fits in a way Gerry has trouble parsing, a way he’s never seen fitting before. Martin’s arms go from steady to tight, his hands from holding to clutching, and desperation speeds their kiss into something like gasping, into starvation and sharpness and need.

And when Jon opens his eyes, he is in grief and at peace and on the precipice of great sorrow, and it pierces even though Gerry isn’t the focus at all.

“Until it's over?” whispers Jon.

“Until it's over,” whispers Martin, and his voice doesn’t itch, and tears are sliding down his cheeks and onto Jon’s collar. Smoke still rises from his empty eyes, but it’s turned white like a clean, sweet fire of freshly hewn wood, and he is trembling. “I’m sorry, Jon. I’m so sorry.”

“I love you,” Jon whispers back.

The shot rings out.

Gerry thinks, Oh. We were being followed by a sniper, and then Jon is sobbing, and all the sound in the world comes back, including all the sirens they hadn’t known were there.

They couldn’t make Jon leave Martin’s body until it had completely turned to dust.

Dust is the wrong word, but it… well, it didn’t decay. There was no odor, and no rot; it just… wasn’t alive anymore, in a way that defied paltry things like bacteria and the release of gasses.

What’s left looks like cotton so old it’s gone brittle.

Organic matter is what Gerry hears some of them mutter when Jon is finally coaxed away.

It’s all been so weird of late that nobody even cares that Gerry’s hovering around like a ghost.

Jon has not spoken. Daisy speaks—Daisy, who made the shot, who’s been following Jon since they came up here, waiting for the one moment her shot would actually count.

Jon ignores her. And the emergency workers. And everyone. He sits in the back of an ambulance, wrapped in a thin, silvery blanket, staring at nothing.

Gerry is familiar with grief, has always known sorrow. He doesn't know how to do comfort like an ordinary person, but he can be here, so… he will.

Gerry sits beside him. “Hey.”

Nothing.

“I’d like to share that cigarette now,” says Gerry.

Jon manages to look at him. “It’s over.”

“It—” says Gerry, then realizes Jon isn’t looking at him. Jon’s looking through him.

He turns to find Elias.

Elias, who looks like Christmas came early. “Jon. You’ve done so well.”

“It’s over,” says Jon. “I know what you planned. It won’t happen.”

“Of course, Jon, whatever you say,” Elias lies through his teeth, and smiles. “I take it you’re going back to London right away?”

Jon doesn’t answer. He keeps staring.

Elias’ smile falters.

Gerry can’t see a change in Jon’s look, but he can feel it.

A heat, this time, the opposite of what Martin was doing, a tidal thing, a filling thing, renewing color and air and life.

And whatever it is, it is making Elias shake in his fancy shoes.

Elias looks like he’s seen… well, a ghost. He can’t seem to look away from Jon.

“Do you believe me now?” says Jon.

Elias nods sharply. He sets his jaw. “I’ll see you back at the Institute,” he promises, dire, and walks away.

“Go to hell,” Jon mutters, and huddles under his thin silver blanket.

“You have got to tell me what happened there,” says Gerry.

“I started to unravel him.”

“Right. What’s that?”

“Untie him from his god. I can unhook him.”

“You… what?” Gerry stares. “You can make someone unbecome?”

“No. No, he can’t be… freed. Nobody can. But I could end him.”

Gerry whistles, low. “Would you really do it? What about all the other people connected to the Institute?”

“I can’t save everyone,” Jon says darkly.

This is a hard day to be Jon, Gerry thinks, and touches his hand.

Jon looks up as though swimming up from a deep well. Tears still fill his eyes, unshed.

“Let’s get out of here,” says Gerry. “Not back to the Playboy Mansion, either. If you’re willing to do a little impersonation, I do have a good bit squared away in the bank. Bet it’s still there.”

“Look, this is absurd. Can you even do that?” says Jon. “Where is your book? How can you run around like this, and… do this?” He puts his other hand over Gerry’s, and it works.

Gerry grins. It’s a naughty grin, the one his mum used to call up to trouble. “Still haven’t figured it out?”

“No, I haven’t figured it out. You just appeared, a few days after the Lonely. You’ve been with me ever since, and you haven’t told me how.”

“Some Archivist you are.”

“Gerry…”

“It’s you.”

Jon blinks at him in confusion that Gerry honestly finds adorable. “What?”

“Sims,” says Daisy, wandering over. “They need a debrief.”

“I won’t give one,” says Jon.

Daisy ignores Gerry with a will. “You have to.”

“No, I don’t, any more than you have to report all the bodies you buried in the woods. Make it go away, Daisy. I’m done.”

Daisy gives him a searing look, but she walks off.

Jon turns back. “Explain.”

“Like I said, it’s you. When you read my page. It didn’t matter that you burned it, because I’m… archived, I guess.” He shrugs. “I don’t know how else to explain it. I’m written in you. So, uh. Bit awkward, but you’re stuck with me.”

Jon stares. He wipes his face on his sleeve. Looks more than a little lost. “I… I think I’m… actually fine with that. I’m sorry you’re stuck with me, though.”

“I’m not. Though I’m sorry about Martin,” says Gerry, trying.

Jon smiles a strange smile, small and sad and final. “I did save him, in the end. In a way.”

“He was himself when he died.”

“Yes.”

“The thing you didn't want to have happen.”

“This was about him, not me. It… was all I could give him.”

Gerry studies him. “I don’t know how to be… comforting. But I can be with you while you figure it out. And I still owe you some inappropriate ice cream. So… let’s go, Jon.”

Jon hesitates.

“It’s a choice, you know? Grief has to be walked through. You can’t outrun it, or hide.”

Jon exhales slowly. “I… I think I understand. What will we do?”

And Gerry says the first thing that comes to mind. “Quit.”

Jon laughs weakly. “I can’t. I can’t quit being Archivist. Quit the Eye. Any of it.”

“Maybe not, but we can do it our own way, can’t we?”

“I…”

“Look,” says Gerry. “I followed Gertrude around, and she did whatever the hell she wanted for fifty years. I think the world can handle you going just a little bit rogue.”

Jon looks him in the eye.

It’s almost too much.

Gerry loves it. “Intense,” he says.

Jon looks at their hands. “Like touching a whisper,” he says.

“Is that a yes, or…” says Gerry.

“Yes. Let’s go. Back to London, and then…”

“Quit.”

“Quit.” Jon smiles a little. “Somehow, some way. We quit.”

“They’ll never know what hit them,” says Gerry, hopping down from the ambulance.

He offers his hand. Maybe it’s too soon; maybe it’s wrong of him, to do this just after Martin.

But Gerry doesn’t think so. He thinks it’s maybe the most important thing he ever could do.

Especially when Jon takes it, grips, and it actually works.

“I won’t be okay for a while,” Jon says, softly.

Gerry nods. “I think you’re allowed.”

Jon smiles. It’s barely there, like Gerry’s hand, but it is there.

They’re gone before Daisy or anyone even notices, only the thin silver blanket left behind.

#tma fic #the magnus archives fic #magpod fic #jon/gerry #extinction martin #the extinction #tma fanfic #magpod #mag pod fic #gerry keay #gerard keay #jonathan sims #martin blackwood

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