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nashibirne · 3 years

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My Best Mistake

This is my first try of a Mike fic and I have to admit I haven't seen Hellraiser: Hellworld yet. So all I think to know about Mike is based on fics, gifs and pictures and maybe it's not that accurate but I hope you're gonna like it.

This one-shot was planned as pure smut and not much more but in the process of writing, it turned out to be something completely different. So Mike's not only managed to surprise my OFC but me too.

So here we go....

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Pairing: Mike x OFC

Summary: Girl meets boy at a bar and he doesn't come up to her expectations.

Warnings: Mentioning of death and sex...a tiny little bit of smut at the end

Unbeta'ed. All mistakes are mine. English is not my first language so please expect bad grammar and spelling

Tags: @hell1129-blog @lunedelorient @willkatfanfromasia @inlovewithhisblueeyes @mis-lil-red @agniavateira

I know he is my next mistake the moment I see him coming through the door. It's not his good looks that tell me he's trouble. Not his tall, muscular body, not the cool clothes -Jeans, plain white T-shirt, black leather jacket-, not this very handsome face with the outstanding blue eyes or the thick, dark curls that invite me to run my hands through his hair. It's the smirk, the smug expression, the sly smile, the cockiness he exudes from every pore. This guy is pure swagger, sex on legs...call it what you want, but I'm hooked on him on first sight and I hate the fact that I'm so attracted to such a player, by the bad boy sex appeal he oozes.

When he enters the bar a group of boys and girls, who are sitting in a corner with cosy sofas and lounge chairs placed around a large round table, start cheering and yelling his name.

MIKE

He greets the guys with fist bumps and winks at the girls. Some of them blush under his gaze but none of them seems to be his girlfriend. When he starts telling his friends something that seems to be a longer story -judging by all the giggling of the girls and the laughter of his mates a very funny one- the whole group hangs on his every word. It's obvious that he loves being the center of attention. He knows how good looking and attractive he is, he knows he's the leader of the pack and he wants every single person in this bar to know it too. The physical reaction of my body to him is ridiculous and pathetic. I call myself a feminist, an emancipated woman but I still want this himbo with the caveman aura with every fibre of my body. I know this is a bad idea, I've had my fair share of trouble with this kind of fuckboys. They think they're the greatest but the sex is usually bad and over much too soon and afterwards they treat you like some kind of slut when in fact they are the man whores.

I look at my mobile to check the time. Where the fuck is Emma. We said we'd meet here at 9, now it's almost 9:30 and she's nowhere to be seen. I text her. "Where are you?"

No reaction. I think about leaving but I decide to give her another 15 minutes. I can't help but watch Mike and his friends again. They seem to have a good time. Lots of fun, lots of alcohol. Two girls are making out passionately and the guys applaud and whistle enthusiastically. This is so cliché-ridden, I roll my eyes.

Mike is sitting on the back of one of the sofas, watching the spectacle with a big grin, taking a sip from a bottle of beer from time to time. After a while he starts scanning the room and that's when our eyes meet. His gaze holds mine and when he gives me a wink and a smirk I know he's interested.

I'm not surprised. I know I'm pretty in a conventional way. The all american girl, long blonde hair, lovely face, great boobs, nice ass. It's nothing I'm proud of because I haven't done anything to achieve it. It was given to me by mother nature or god or genetics or whatever and to be honest I consider my looks quite boring, ordinary and replaceable. There are dozens of girls that look exactly like me. But guys like Mikey over there, they like this average kind of beauty. It's exactly what they want and what they get. He's the jock and I'm the cheerleader. He's the hot college athlete and I'm the queen bee. He's the hunter and I'm the prey. I've played this game many times before and I'm sick of it. It's not what I want. I don't want the jocks anymore. I want a smart guy, an intellectual, a feminist, a sophisticated, grown-up man who's interested in politics, arts, books. But that's not what I get because these guys are interested in the girls with an unconventional beauty, with a remarkable style. They want extraordinary women, smart women, independent women. Not a random bimbo like me.

I flinch when my phone starts to vibrate in my hand. It's Emma calling. Her car broke down and now she's waiting for the breakdown service. She won't make it.

I take a deep breath and try to ignore the guy at the other end of the bar who's been seeking my attention since the moment I've arrived.

I need to pee. I get up and head to the restrooms and I know Mike is watching me. I give him a flirtatious smile when I pass him and his friends and I can feel his gaze on my backside, lingering on my butt and my long legs.

When I return he waits for me. He leans against the bar casually, right beside the barstool with my jacket on it, a lopsided smile on his pretty face.

I know I should grab my things and leave but I don't. There's something about the way he looks me up and down that turns me on. And there's something in his eyes that makes me wonder if I misjudged him. If I was being led on by my own prejudices.

I sit down and give him a quick look before I lower my eyes. That's the game. He's going to make the first move. Or at least he wants to be given the feeling that he is.

"Hi. I'm Mike." he says and I turn to him. His smile is bright and very confident.

I smile back and bat my long lashes. "Hi. I'm Sarah. Nice to meet you, Marc."

"No, it's Mike." he says, leaning in to make me understand him better. He's very close now. "Mike. Like in Magic Mike." he says with a smirk. His lips are amazing.

"Oh. I see." I giggle and I hate that I know how to play this game so damn well.

"So why is a beauty like you sitting at the bar in a place like this all on her own?"

"I was waiting for my friend, but her car broke down so she can't make it."

"So you need someone to keep you company, huh." Mike asks and he cocks his head looking at me like a lost puppy.

"Actually I was just about to leave." I say with a fake-shy smile.

"Great idea." He reaches into the pocket of his jacket, gets out some bills and places them on the bar beside my empty glass of beer. "Let's go." He takes my hand and tries to drag me from my chair. I can't help but laugh.

"This is crazy. I don't even know you. Why would I leave with you?"

"Because you need a good adventure and some fun. I can see the sadness in your eyes. I can take it away."

I'm speechless for a moment. How does he know this? There is this sadness deep inside of me but I'm sure it doesn't show in my eyes because no one has ever told me before. In all the time that's passed since my dad died nobody has realized that I'm still mourning.

"Come with me."

"You could be a serial killer." I say though I already know that I'm going to leave with him.

"I'm not. You can trust me."

Strangely enough that's exactly what I do.

"What about your friends?"

"They can do without me. And they're not really my friends." He shrugs.

"And what are they?"

"Just...people I know and hang out with." Mike says and it sounds like a question.

I hop off my chair and put on my jacket.

"Ok then...let's go."

****

I hesitate when we're standing in front of his pick-up truck.

"What's wrong." Mike looks at me.

"What about 'Don't drink and drive'?" I say with a frown.

"Don't worry. I've only had lite beer. Alcohol-free."

I snort. "Guys like you don't drink lite beer."

"Guys like me?"

I don't know how to answer and just shrug.

"See, I don't know what you think to know about 'guys like me', but I lost my best friend to that kind of shit. He caused an accident when he was drunk and he and two other people died. So I don't drink when I drive." A sad look crosses his face for a split second.

"That's dreadful. I'm sorry."

Now Mike's the one who shrugs it off and I know now how he's detected my sadness. He hides just the same feelings.

"Hop on." He says grinning and I obey.

Minutes later we're heading down the freeway right into sunset.

"Where are we going?" I like his truck, it's surprisingly tidy and somehow cosy.

"I don't know. Where do you want to go?"

He gives me a smile and starts fumbling with the radio until some music starts playing. It's 'Promise me' by Badflower. God, I love this song. It makes me happy and sad at the same time.

"You said you can take away the sadness."

"You want me to make you happy?" His smirk is lewd and oh so sexy. I bite my lip.

"So this is just about sex?" I ask a little disappointed. "You took me away from the bar just for sex? We could have had that in the parking lot or in the restrooms."

Mike seems to be surprised. "You would have fucked me in the restrooms?"

I roll my eyes before turning away to stare out of the window.

"Hey, I was just teasing you. Don't be mad." He touches my arm gently and when I look at him he gives me those puppy dog eyes again and I can't help but laugh.

"So where are you taking me, Mike?"

"You really want to forget about that sadness?"

"What I want is peace of mind." I say with a deep sigh.

"Then I know just the perfect place." He smiles at me and gives my cheek a tender stroke before he hits the gas and we race into the night.

20 minutes later Mike turns off the freeway onto a small dirt road where he parks the truck. We get out of the car and I take a look around. We're in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by nothing but trees and darkness. I start doubting my sanity. Is this really a good idea? I have no clue where I am, actually no one besides Mike knows where I am, and I'm with a complete stranger plus I have no idea what he's up to. And yet I feel good. Reckless and excited. Maybe this is some kind of subconscious death wish. I hear Mike rustling on the backseat. He's stuffing something into a sports bag and I hope it's not his serial killer basic equipment.

"Come on, Sarah. Let's go." He takes my hand and I follow him though I know I shouldn't.

"Where are we? Where are we going, Mike?"

"Into the void." He answers without looking at me. Instead he gives my hand a tender squeeze and I get goosebumps all over my body.

A few minutes later we're standing in front of a large chain-link fence that's topped with barbed wire.

"What now?"

Mike grins at me and starts searching through the bag. He rakes out a large tool.

"Now we get in."

"Wait? Is that a bolt cutter?"

"Sure, or would you prefer to climb?"

"Mike, there's a big sign that says "No trespassing". We can't do this. What if we get caught?" I start to panic. "This is illegal."

Mike doesn't seem to be impressed by my objections. He starts cutting the fence calmly and skillfully and it dawns on me that he doesn't do this for the first time.

"Mike!" I tug on his jacket. "Stop it. This is insane. We're gonna get arrested."

He stops and turns around to face me.

"I'm already done. Don't worry, baby. I know who's the owner of the land. He's not in town. It's gonna be alright." He leans in and gives me a sweet kiss. No tongue. All I feel is his gorgeous lips and the heat that arises within me. It's a tender kiss. Gentle but also sexy. Innocent but yet promising.

He pulls away and smirks before he turns to the fence and holds the make-shift gate, that he has cut into it, open for me.

"Come on."

I hesitate but finally I squeeze through the hole. He shoulders the bag and follows me. After only a few minutes of walking down a beaten path we hear rustling sounds and footsteps.

"Stop! Whoever is there. Stop. Now!"

We stop in our tracks and Mike drags me down. We crouch behind a large bush and he lays his index finger on my lips to shush me.

Flashlight shines through the darkness and the footsteps come closer. I stare at Mike, scared and bewildered.

"You said the owner's not around." I whisper as quietly as possible.

"That's not the owner. It's security." Mike whispers back.

"Security? What the fuck, Mike... "

"I promised you adventure." He gives me a wink and I wonder how he manages to stay so calm when we're just about to get arrested or worse.

"Who's there? This is private property. Get out."

The voice is close now.

Mike takes my hand and brings his mouth close to my ear. "Get up and run." he whispers. "On three." I have no time to contradict.

He squeezes my hand. One. Two. Three.

We get up and start to run. Into the forest. Into the darkness. Into our adventure.

"Hey!" Security guy yells at us and we can hear that he's trying to follow us but we're too fast for him. We run like a bat out of hell, pushing through the undergrowth. After a few minutes, when we're sure that we've shaken off our pursuer, we stop and lean against a large tree, panting and completely out of breath. I haven't felt so alive in years.

We look at each other and we burst out laughing frantically.

"You're fast for a girl." Mike says, still laughing.

"College track- and field team. I'm fast and strong. Is that a problem?" I say with a big grin.

"No. I like strong women." He gives me a wink.

I flinch when I hear a branch break behind us. "Do you think he will keep looking for us?"

Mike shakes his head. "Nope. He doesn't get paid enough to make such kind of extra efforts. He's already back on his perch, watching porn on his cell, eating donuts and drinking beer. Believe me."

I cock my head and look at him with a frown. "How can you be so sure?"

Mike wiggles his eyebrows but I get no answer.

"Come on. It's still a few minutes to go."

The few minutes turn out to be at least half an hour. I'm just about to complain when we reach a big glade and suddenly we have a clear view of a big, dark lake that is surrounded by the woods from three sides. The clearing we've just reached is the only way to approach this beautiful stretch of water. Moonlight illuminates the dreamlike scene. I'm amazed.

"Wow. This is fantastic."

Mike just smiles at me and starts to flatten out a large blanket that must have been in his bag.

"Come. Sit with me."

I plop down right beside him. My arms wrapped around my knees I stare at the smooth surface of the dark waters. It calms me down immediately. Mike sits beside me, his long legs stretched out. We don't speak and we are surrounded by complete silence. There are no sounds. No traffic noise, no birds twittering, no wind that rustles through the trees. Only our soft breathing that soothes me even further. This is the kind of peace I've been looking for for so long. I lay down on my back and look at the sky. There are no clouds but what seems to be a million stars. We're literally lying under the Milky Way.

"This is beyond beautiful." I whisper after a while. Mike lays down beside me. He takes my hand but he keeps looking at the starlit sky.

"I know. It's my secret place. I go here often when my thoughts get too loud. It calms me down. That's why I thought it might give you some peace of mind."

"It does." I turn to look at him. "So who's the owner?"

He gives me a cheeky smile. "My father."

"Are you kidding me?" I start laughing.

"No. He's a lumber merchant, owns a lumber mill and a lot of land. These woods are his assets."

"Then why the fuck did we have to creep through a hole in the fence and run away from the security guy?" I shake my head in disbelief.

"Well, let's just say we don't get along so well lately."

"What happened?"

"I threw a huge party in one of his cabins in the woods. It got a little out of hand and ended with a forest fire, a report to the police and lots of trouble."

"Oh shit."

"Yeah." Mike starts laughing. "Biggest pile of shit I've ever caused. So now I have to sneak in to visit my favorite places. And this lake is the best of all."

"Yes. It's beautiful. So dark and enchanted somehow but not frightening. It's simply..."

"Romantic?" Mike looks me in the eyes and butterflies start flapping their wings in my belly.

"Yes." Is all I'm able to whisper.

Mike clears his throat and recites a poem I've never heard before.

"Along the shore the cloud waves break,

The twin suns sink beneath the lake,

The shadows lengthen

In Carcosa.

Strange is the night where black stars rise,

And strange moons circle through the skies,

But stranger still is

Lost Carcosa.

Songs that the Hyades shall sing,

Where flap the tatters of the King,

Must die unheard in

Dim Carcosa.

Song of my soul, my voice is dead;

Die thou, unsung, as tears unshed

Shall dry and die in

Lost Carcosa."

"This is beautiful." I say surprised. "What's it called?"

"It's from the book 'The King in Yellow" by Robert W. Chambers. The poem's called "Cassilda's Song""

"You're interested in literature and poetry?" I've really misjudged this guy.

"Well, to be honest, this place from the poem -Carcosa- it's mentioned in 'True Detective'. The TV show. You know it?"

"No, I don't." I shake my head.

"Really? It's a must-see. Matthew Mc Conaughey, Woody Harrelson. We can binge it tomorrow at my place. If you want to."

"Sure."

"Well, anyway...I was kind of fascinated by this Carcosa thing and I looked it up on google and I found out about Chamber's book and then I read it and I really love it because it so morbid and dark and beautiful and especially Cassilda's Song reminds me of this place so much. This is my Carcosa. Dark, lost and strange but peaceful and soothing at the same time. It's good and bad, dark and light, sadness and joy. Like me."

His voice is barely a whisper now and I suddenly have a lump in my throat. The sadness in his eyes is killing me and I can see that he's close to tears.

I smile at him and touch his cheek. He turns to me and we kiss. Long, slow kisses. Sloppy. Sexy. Sensual. Intense. When we make love later that night on that itchy blanket under a sky full of stars, I know I've been wrong. When I scratch my nails into his back when he makes me come, when he sighs my name when he gets off, when we talk for hours afterwards, cuddled up to each other, waiting for the sunrise, making plans for the new day, I know he's the best mistake I've ever made.

#henry cavill #cavillry #henry cavill fanfic #mike hellraiser #mike x ofc #mike hellraiser x ofc

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boredoverlord · 3 years

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Bucky X Reader - Hold the Line

I came in here to show you a good time, so here's my personal work and my very first fanfiction of all time. And because I'm a thirsty bitch, of course it's smut.

Summary : As a young and talented psychologist specializing in difficult people in prison, you believed in a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to work with the SHIELD. Turned out you were tricked to work for HYDRA.

For three years they made you do horrors in the name of an ideology you despised, but you may have found the occasion to finally make a change for the good, when they introduced you to your new patient.

The Winter Soldier.

Rating : Explicit, please kids, look away ( of course you won't because you're cute little rebels, but please do it)

Word count : 6.4k (chapter 1)

TW: Light BDSM (for now) Because Bucky is a massive Sub and it seems nobody agrees with me, so I have to do the lord's work here.

Foul language, mention of violence and murder, Masturbation, male orgasm and a tiiiny bit of choking. I started lightly

Please consider reading this on Archive of our own or read it below the cut. Lemme know what you think !

Chapter 1: A Story of Almost Everything

You never were the type to brag. But one thing you know is : you’re damn good at your job. Years and years of psychology studies, you barely got to parties, you hardly made any friends, and your sleeping schedule is still a nightmare. Those were sacrifices you did for one sole purpose : helping others. To be the last resort for people who have lost everything. You always firmly believed that you could make a change in the world, even the slightest, even for just one person. That would have been enough to make your lifetime worthy. What's more noble than just a genuine try to make it better, after all ? So you wasted your youth on studies, without a damn blink. And never one ounce of regret. You did it because it felt right. You’re not very brave, but you decided to face your fear a couple of times. You even were an intern in a high security prison, talking to broken men and women who hated your guts. Trying to lead them to another path of life. You heard stories that could break any mind. Only time could tell if you actually helped them. But that’s part of the job. Hope. And hard work.

That’s why when you started to have a growing reputation, at 26 after five years of studies and several years working in prison and rehabilitation, you were ecstatic when S.H.I.E.L.D contacted you. You quit everything, starting with your homeland in Europe, to fly to Washington DC, to visit the headquarters. The new building, the thrill of novelty, the clean rooms, the medical wing, and Alexander Pierce himself coming to shake your hand and telling you personally the wonders they have in mind for the psychology field. You could prepare people to save the world, you could have all the resources to make research, and fix minds that were supposed to be beyond repair. It was supposed to be just a quick trip, but the visit wasn’t even done when you looked at your guide with enthusiasm : you weren’t going home. Just cancel the fly. You’re taking the job immediately. It was three years ago.

Enough to understand how fucked you are.

You didn’t save anyone, you didn’t even work to make the world a better place. Oh but you did work to make a change. A change for HYDRA. They tortured you to make you swallow their ideology, but even if your body surrendered, your mind didn’t, even if it was still a perpetual work on yourself. You never believed in this masquerade, but you know it doesn’t matter. Because HYDRA knows how good you are at your job, and you’re a precious asset. So precious that they pushed all your buttons to make you obey. You tried to act and escape. Their last resort is the Damocles sword they put over your family’s head. Next act of rebellion, heads will roll. And it won’t be yours : no, no. HYDRA won’t give you this relief. It will be your loved ones. So you’re doing what you have to do. It’s the most cowardly choice, you know it. And you’re ashamed. But you’re too terrorised to make it otherwise. So you’re here to twist people's minds to swallow whatever Hydra wants. You make them understand the importance of the organization, when they can��t take it anymore, you make them understand that not only they can, but they must . You saw vulnerable people giving their life to this awful cause, and you are the person to make them understand it was the right thing to do. They gave you kind people with dreams, morals and passion, and you turn this into anger, hate and war, worshipping a crazy doctrine that spoils everything you believed and fought for. You have blood on your hands. You’re THAT good at your job.

So when they called you for a highly secret mission, you weren’t exactly surprised. Just disgusted by them, and mostly yourself. In the guts of what was called the Ideal Federal Saving Bank, you’re obediently following the chef himself : Alexander Pierce, to your next place of action. “I believe you have read your mission’s order, Y/N ?” “Yes Sir.” You said. “It did mention I will have the whole file today, though. I need to take a look at my patient so I can work in proper condition.” “Whatever you call it.” He said, opening the door of the clandestine laboratory in the now abandoned bank. If not for the machinery, we could still believe that those art deco walls filled with safes would still contain treasures of a lifetime for some people. Now there is nothing of value in here, not even the very skin of every PoS present. And you were including yourself. Making your way in the middle of the heavy set up, you slowly reach the pod in the middle, chewing secretly the interior of your cheeks. You know what’s inside, and it makes you want to puke. Mr Pierce continued “Doctor, as your mission was presented to you, your one on only assignment will be the physical and mostly the psychological perfect condition of the Winter Soldier, for the entire length of this mission on american soil.” Basically, be sure his brain is a fucking slushy. You reluctantly nodded and drew closer. “What’s his condition ?” At the top of your height, barely 5’3, you tiptoed to actually look at him by the window of the cryostasis chamber, since you never got this close of a look, not without the file and basically crumbs of info that were thrown at your face. They expected you to keep a dog on a leash, not making actual work on him, and it shows. White man, late 20s to early 30s, approx 5”7, long dark messy hair, not shaved, geez, it seemed like the poor guy was barely cleaned up before being pushed here. Good physical condition, breathing was steady. You could see the steam of his breath on the glass. He may be clinically asleep, but she highly doubted he would be in his best shape. He looked uncomfortable, and tired. It wasn’t a restorative sleep. It was a prison. You couldn’t help but notice his prosthetic arm, even if that was the only thing you knew about him. It’s a fascinating work of science, that’s for sure. And even if transhumanism and biomechanical wasn’t your forte, you wanted to have a closer look, to satisfy your curiosity. One of the scientists watching his screen responded : “He’s gently defrozing, should be half conscious in 5 minutes. You may want to take a step down.” You ignore that, and lean your hand to your superior. “May I finally have what I have been asking for ?” With the most irritating smile, he gave you the Winter Soldier’s File and you quickly opened it to have a first look at all the fuss. Basic physical information, previous missions report, date of entering and ending of cryostasis, bare minimal medical record, notes by her predecessor, fucking trigger words to make him kneel like a 12 years old in front of any boysband... nothing about his previous life, his antics, his name, actual disorders, no name, nor adresses… You glaced a bit at Pierce and threw a polite smile. He knows what he’s doing, and he knows you know. You’re extremely good with very violent patients. You have endured rapists and murderers spiting in your face and swearing to bite your head off and fucking your skull. You were traumatized and you cried yourself to sleep, but the following day you did your job again. You’re just here to handle the worst of the worst. And you’re going to do it.

Or he’s going to break your neck and fuck your skull. You’re fine with that.

“Thank you it’s going to be very helpful.” As helpful as a band-aid on a wooden leg. “What’s this device ?” You point your chin to another machine not far away from it. One of the two men finishing installing it, raised his head to look at you. “A memory suppressing machine. Usually he doesn’t need it as much as he used to, but it’s mainly for safety. He must be prepared.” “He’s in a state where he willingly takes it. So don’t hesitate if he’s starting to be annoying, or excited. That can happen. But that mean you would probably have to work more with him to make him fully ready for his mission,” “Understood, thank you for clarification gentlemen.” You smiled and they smiled back. You’re a woman, so you’re used to it. Basically this shit was supposed to hack his brain, and it must be painful. “I would strongly recommend not using it at such a time. From what I quickly read he needs stability and time. Wiping everything out will more likely create more confusion.” You took a look at the file again and took it upon yourself to not have your eyes double in size and screaming at this bunch of idiots. “... and it does seem he’s using it a lot.”

“We want the asset to be as focused as possible.”

“I understand that, but that's a temporary solution at best. He’s got a brain, not a harddrive. We still don’t know how it can store information, and if it can…” “The last time we used him was five years ago…” Started Pierce, with diplomaty, but also with a tone that wasn’t allowing any more debate on the matter. “And this mission is an absolute priority. The asset is strictly under cryostasis procedure as soon as he’s not needed anymore. The machine will be used if needed.” “I understand your point.” You absolute psychopath. “Then my request is simply to be here if it happens, and to be able to control the shocks. Also, I insist that he must be in perfect condition when you launch the procedure, I’ll personally make it happen and give you a green light.” “Thank you for your hard work.” He said, raising his hand, that you promptly and politely shook. You could feel the angry grasp. “I know you’re the perfect woman for this hard job. Your work is an inspiration for us all.” You wish you could end your life right here right now, instead of being told such atrocities. But you think about your mom and dad. At this time of year they start to prepare the pool for the summer, for the future neighborhood barbecues where they will brag to everyone about their incredible psychiatrist daughter who is doing secret stuff over sea to help save the world. You have to be strong. At least for them. At least for now.

“Hail Hydra.”

“Hail Hydra.” You responded, while your tongue feels like sandpaper.

“Ok he’s starting to wake up…” Someone warns, as Pierce leaves the room, unbothered. The pod opens before your eyes, as the asset -you hate this term- is being roughly handled and carried away by two dudes to his seat. The one dangerously close to the memory suppressing machine. You squatted in front of him, the time for him to blink several times and look around him. Confused, but it’s not exactly his first rodeo either. His eyes are quickly focused on the first thing in front of him : you. He looked like he was trying to remember who you are, but quickly realized he didn’t know you. Two blue spears digging right into your soul. That’s making you a bit uncomfortable. The same weird feeling of unease you have when a cat is watching you taking a shower. “Hi.” You started, in english, even if he could be from italy you had no freaking clue. You guessed that he was probably slavic. But the file says he’s speaking more than ten languages. And it wasn’t specified when and how the hell did he learn that. “Can you hear me?” He took a few more seconds to look at you, probably the time to finish reading every embarrassing moment of your life, right into your eyes, like your drunk 18th birthday when you finished in your panties swimming in a city fountain, but he nodded eventually. You actually know this look. But it’s the first time you have a super soldier in front of you so it’s of a rare intensity. He’s dissecting you. Gathering information. His eyes moved slightly down : a recent scar on your neck. Right : an ex piercing on the top of your ear, now unusable. Down left : he just realized you’re slightly unbalanced so he knows you have a hip issue. And down right : he’s looking at your hand, you don’t really know what he saw here, maybe calculating how to break them ? You were literally a foot in a viper’s nest. Were you terrified ? Absolutely. Will that forbid you to do your job ? Nope. “Can you follow the light ?” You asked, moving slowly your phone’s lamp from left to right in front of his eyes. He did it without questioning. “Ok good.” You tried a smile, not really knowing why. If he was at least a tenth as clever as the file said he was, he perfectly know that you’re here to fuck him up. But you couldn’t help it. Poor dude. He was visibly more or less your age. He could have been a prince, or thief, a womanizer, or a priest, whatever, HYDRA took everything from him. From his free will, of his right to grow old, to his sleep. “Can you tell me your name ?” He frowned, perplexed. “Winter Soldier.” Shitty answer but at least he was fully aware, and his tongue was working properly. “Nice to meet you, I’m doctor Y/N. We’re here to work together in preparation of your next assignment. Do you understand ?” He nodded, unimpressed. “Good, can you get up ?” He did, so you did it too. And he realized that you were… very short. His eyes literally went up and slooowly down. That was a bit mean, actually. You carefully took a glance behind you, and your eyeroll could probably trigger an earthquake. “Can you all nice gentlemen let down a bit of their weapon ?” You said at the 6 dudes with rifles literally fixed on him, ready to shoot at the wrong twitch of muscle. No wonder he wasn’t talkative. “You won’t say that when he will break your neck with two fingers, ‘mam.”

“He’s pretty stable for now. Plus he’s not fully awake, let’s give him time before threatening him, shall we ?”

Nobody moved for ten seconds before one of them complied, since you didn’t move. The rest of the bunch reluctantly followed . You looked at your patient, hoping that that would have made him a bit more relaxed. Nope, he didn’t give a shit. He wasn't even looking at them. He was looking at you. You’re the mystery of this room to him. But you didn’t need extra vision to understand that Docs treated him like a guinea pig, so he was very understandably extra careful with you. Standing on his feet, all his muscles ready for action, that’s the exact moment you realized how close you two were. Indeed, if he decided to, your jaw would fly across the room in a single move. You never had such a display of sheer raw strength, and you could feel the heat of his body radiate.

“He needs a shower, and clothings.” You said, having a look at his 5 years old combat suit still reeking the smell of his sweat. It was intoxicating. They didn’t even allow him to clean himself. Poor dude was frozen in his own filth for the last five years. And you didn’t know why you took an even deeper breath. “And I’m talking about comfy workout clothes, no combat suit. Please escort him and handle him with care, before bringing him to my office.” You actually decided to be sure he wouldn’t be mistreated, by waiting outside the man’s bathrooms. You weren’t certain of how he could react, and you didn’t trust anyone here. If one of them decided to do a piss contest with your patient, it could end badly. So you put your hands in your pockets, looking at the two armed men waiting for the most dangerous assassin in the world to finish scrubbing himself with soap. The atmosphere was heavy and the silence was loud in itself. Even the sound of the shower was stressful and menacing.

When the Soldier was escorted to your improvised office into the archive, directly linked to a storage room that will be your bedroom for the next weeks, you let him take a seat and promptly blocked the access to the room of the two escort members. “Thank you sirs, that will be all. Please wait here.” They look at you like you just told them you were dating their daughters. “Sorry Miss, but we can’t…” “Sorry Doctor , and I can’t work properly with weapons in my office.” You raised your hand, showing your device on your wrist. Something that would not only call for aid by a simple pressure, but could stun an opponent. Neither them nor you were stupid : it wouldn’t stop The Winter Soldier, maybe he would blink a second at most. But you really wanted to be alone with him. Was he dangerous ? Yes. Were you absolutely certain that you would leave this room alive if you closed this door to their face ? No. But it’s been three years since your priority wasn’t your survival anymore. So you forced a smile and slapped the door. They needed you more than you needed them, so they will obey.

“Douchebags.” You muttered to yourself while coming back to your desk. Your patient didn’t even move a muscle at your little argument. He wasn’t totally inexpressive actually, mostly terribly broody. His hair was still wet from the shower he took, wearing cargo pants, heavy boots and hoodies, generic clothes by HYDRA. You got those too, since you’re not allowed to carry anything personal for mission to mission. You had a tablet for books, music and movies, but that was it. You haven’t opened your shelves yet, but you know it’s full of ugly clothes and generic black panties of doom.

You took a large inspiration, sat on your desk in front of him, and started : “Ok ‘Winter Soldier’... how are you doing ?” He didn’t even flinch. He was staring into your soul with his eyes lost into dark circles. Depriving someone of proper sleep is a basic rule for brainwash. “You enjoyed the shower ?” Nothing. You waited for a bit to see if he would finally respond. Ten seconds. Twenty. fourty. a minute. When he gathered that you were actually looking for an answer, visibly a first one for him, he finally gave you the courtesy of one. “Yes.” “Perfect.” You didn’t hide your slight smile and tiled your head. “I’ll be sure you’re in your best condition for your next mission. If something’s on your mind, I need to know about it. Nothing will get out of this room. Both of our priorities are your goal, and your condition is the key to success. Which makes you , my high top priority. Do you understand me ?” “Yes.”

“Ok so let’s get going.” You took another file, and took a picture out, ready to handle it to him. “Is the name : Nicholas Fury, ringing some bells to you?” “Yes.” He took it inside his titanium fingers and finally moved his piercing blue eyes away from you to look at the picture. “In two weeks, you’ll be in Washington DC. An entire squad will be deployed to assassinate him. Fury is the leader of the S.H.I.E.L.D, not a mere target. He will break free and fight back. That will be when you’ll show up.” He wasn’t looking at the picture anymore. One thing for sure : at least he was paying attention to you, and what you were saying. And that made you actually kind of proud of yourself. “That was part one. I’ll personally supervise your training with the VR machine and your physical health and condition. I really need you to communicate with me all the time about anything that could be in your mind. The more focused you are, the more Hydra’s plan will succeed.” And what’s that plan ? You have not a single clue. You were a cog in the machine, disposable. Not much more than him. “Do you understand ?” “I understand.” Oh shit, two words this time!

“Good.” You smiled. He didn’t. You move your hands closer to him, to take a grip on the picture. He opened his prosthetic hand, leaving you to take it back. Nothing in his gesture seems dangerous. Just normal, somehow cordial. “I must ask : are you in any pain right now ?” His eyes significantly get from right to left. He must probably wonder why you are asking him that. Did nobody ever ask him such basic questions like : ‘are you in pain?’ This man's sole purpose was to fight, that made no damn sense for you.

“Sir ?” You insisted for an answer, even if the ‘sir’ sounded absolutely ridiculous to your ears. You didn’t know his name, and you don’t feel comfortable calling him “Winter Soldier” , “Soldier”, “Sir De Winter”, “Hey you,he soviet assassin” so it will be “Sir” for now. “Sir are you in pain right now ?” “I’m not in pain.” A complete sentence, that’s progress. You breathed a bit better “Ok good.” You got up from your desk, which was honestly barely taller that him remaining on his chair. He didn’t let go of your eyes and you decided to make a bold move. For now, he was always being responsive so you slowly moved your hands toward him. To his prosthetic hand. “May I take a look, please ?” You glanced at each other, nobody made the first move. In complete silence, if it wasn’t for both of your breaths. You’re almost sure that it has been at least 5 minutes since you decided to speak again. Slowly, and gently, with no signs of confrontation in your body language or speech. “I will not do it until you comply. And you can refuse the contact.” He didn’t answer right away but he finally nodded.

Slowly, you took his hand into yours, lifting it from his thigh where it was resting. At the beginning it was just taking a look. But he wasn’t making any moves, so you decided to take your observation a little further. You used your other hands to start to move each finger separately, taking a step closer to him. Finally, you made one of your hands slowly sliding into the hoodie, to feel the muscles, the nerves, how it feels like a real arm. It was cold, but you felt it shudder to your touch. That was the line you decided to not take it further.

“Thank you, Soldier.” You said with a smile, taking away your hands from him. You moved behind your desk, opening your notepad to take a bunch of notes, breaking the contact with him. Just a second. But when you raised your eyes again, The Winter Soldier wasn’t in sight.

You shuddered and didn’t make a single move. If it wasn’t for your fingers grasping your desk. You did your best to have a steady respiration and not start to panic. Your throat dried up immediately. You took a deep breath and say : “Please, get back to your seat.” You slowly moved your head to look right back at him. He was standing. His eyes were black, taking loud deep breaths, fixing your behind your shoulder. Tall. Dangerous. You were terrorised. And he could smell it. He didn’t move so you stood up as well, and slowly faced him. You try to remain in total control of your body and not start to fidget. You could scream for help, but for whatever reason, you still had the feeling you could handle the situation. Trying to convince yourself that it wasn’t the first time a patient was disobedient. The only difference was that this one could crush your skull in a bat of an eye,

“Get back.” You said once again, bearing his piercing eyes, but he didn’t budge. So you took out your hand and put it on his chest. You felt like an ant against a mountain, but you pushed him a bit. “We will go nowhere this way.” You resumed trying to get a step closer, even if it will be creating a proximity that could be even more lethal to you. “So please, get back to…”

Something happened. It was obvious, and clear as day : you felt the bulge between his legs. Right above your navel. Hardening even more now that he could feel your body. You decided immediately to repress the shameful feeling of your very inside warming up and tickling you. “Winter Soldier.” You growled, angry but trying your best to remain as professional as you could. Of course, of fucking course. This guy was gorged on serum and hormones, quick, violent actions, and adrenaline. Pumping in his veins, burning 24/7. His body was on the edge all the time, and he just awoke from a dreamless slumber. He was a human, whatever all these idiots were thinking, not a freakin’ cyborg. When was the last time he saw a woman that he didn’t smash the head on a wall ? You even suspected that Pierce was counting on it. Nonetheless, you were alone in an office, literally glued with the world's most dangerous assassin, who was having a massive hard-on. Throbbing against you. You had your share of very awkward situations in your short life time. But nothing, nothing prepared you for this. And you had even less of an idea of what to do because he was doing nothing . He was feeling uncomfortable, that you could say, but he wasn’t really doing any moves to attack you, or even take you. He was standing here, with heavy breathing, his eyes still piercing you. And you slowly slided your gaze to his lips, finding the vision of his hard laboured breath strangely mesmerizing.

Short of ideas, your reflexes took the best (or the worst) of you, and without you realizing it, your hand was around his neck. Your palm pressured on his glottis, and you clearly felt him swallow. As clearly as you felt him becoming even harder. Your breath was starting to shake, as you felt a not-so subtle chill coursing your spin. You drew his face and your face closer, as you finally moved forward, forcing him to move as well. Forcing was a strong word : the last time you hit a punching bag, you hurt yourself and sobbed for an hour. But for whatever reason, he did whatever you wanted. As if he was testing your resolve to make him obey. But there was nothing on his file about this behaviour. He tried to attack, kill and escape. Nothing about testing the limits of anyone.

“You. Will. Sit. Down!” you spat, through your teeth, forcing even more your grip around his neck, as your other hand was reaching for his hair. You pulled it, not too harshly, but you could definitely smell the musk, and the wetness of what stayed of his shower.

You did it. He was sitting down again. And your bodies departed for one another. For once he tried to escape your gaze, which was a strangely human reaction. You both managed to get your breath back, before you decided to call the guard to adjourn your observation.

As soon as the door closed behind them, you felt your legs giving up and you sat on the ground, back against your desk, a small wimp leaving your throat. You felt your eyes starting to wet, and your teeth rattled a bit so you tried to cuddle yourself to try to retake control on your body. Your hands were shaking uncontrollably as his intoxicating smell was still all around you. It was by far one of the most terrifying experiences you ever felt, and it was all clouded by the phantom feeling of his body against yours. You could still feel his gaze, his heat, his… well, his cock against your belly. You were still chilling, trying to repress whatever you were feeling at this instant. Because it wasn’t right, for you. Nor him. Everyone in this godforsaken organisation was treating him like a dog, just here to attack and do tricks, but you swore to yourself not to do the same. You will succeed at your mission, but you’ll do it from the crumbs of humanity and morality that HYDRA left you. You will do anything possible that the mission will be complete, the most painless possible for this broken man you just saw. Wait a second.

Painless .

You jumped on your feet, ignoring the numbness of your legs caused by the shock, and you ran at the door, screaming at the three men at the end of the corridor. “HEY !” The guards startled a bit and looked at you “I changed my mind. Bring the Winter Soldier back to my office.” They briefly exchange what seems to be a bunch of insults about you, but they comply to bring the Soldier back. Him ? He seemed absolutely unbothered.

You closed the door behind the both of you, to the face of the guards yet again. He was standing here, showing his back as you slowly got back in front of him. Hands in your pocket, not really sure of what to do nor how to do it. He was looking at you, this same feeling of unease than before. And for reasons : a small glance confirmed that he was still rock hard. You didn’t make any move for a long time, until you finally put your hand on his chest. You felt his breathing becoming slightly quicker. “You’re not in pain.” You whispered, and he shook his head, negatively. “That was the wrong question. I’m sorry... “ Without you noticing, you had the palm of your hand on his cheek, scrubing lightly his stubble with your thumb as an apology. You breathed in, just couldn’t believe what you were about to say. “Do you need help ?” His expression didn’t change, but his eyes ? They became a bit brighter, you could even see a bit of relief when you saw him nod.

You swiftly move your other index on his pillowy lips as you still lower your voice. “They cannot hear us.” He nodded again as the only feeling of your finger as close to his mouth made him shiver with anticipation. He was literally dying of anything that could relieve him. And for what you understood, as your conversation continued, he trusted you with his body, to provide him with the sweet touch he has been totally deprived of. You slowly push away your index to gently slide your thumb between his lips, and he sighed with pleasure as he took it with an eagerness you would never have believed possible. The most deadly assassin in the world, the legendary Winter Soldier that everyone wishes he wasn’t real, was purring while sucking your finger. If you weren’t the shrink, you’ll be needing one immediately. You gently moved him to make him sit in his chair, he was way too tall for you to handle this with ease. “What about the showers?” You asked him, as you removed your thumb to make it gently slide on his lips, your other hand crawling across his chest to his pants. He swallowed before whispering. “I could but... “ his well built square jaws started to tense, with a visible revulsion. “... They can watch.” Disgusting. He couldn’t even close the damn door of the shower. “You’re safe here.” You said as your hand was finally reaching the bulge behind his Hydra cargo pants. You didn’t know what you expected but… it was way beyond that. He hissed a bit at the feeling of your hand as you started to touch it gently over the fabric.

Now he was panting, looking at you as you were a single oasis after years of thirst in the desert. “Please…” You heard, barely audible when he was starting to lose it. “I got you, but you have to promise me to be good.” “Anything. Please…”

And at your very surprise, you obliged him. Using your hand to plunge into his pants, while the other fast pressed into his mouth, muffing the immediate deep moan that escaped at the very second you touched his pulsing penis. He started panting even more, as he used his flesh arm to drive you onto him. His forehead against yours. You couldn’t stop yourself from getting closer and closer. Actually you let go of his -massive- erection a second to just drop out his pants, and his breach. You stopped a second, only to watch him begging you with his eyes, as you could feel his saliva at the palm of your hand while you muzzled him. It was it. You realized what kind of power you have over this man. He has been used and abused in every single way, but for once : someone’s finally doing what he wanted. You had his pleasure in your very hands, and for once in years, you could finally help someone. So you’re gonna do it, you’re going to make him feel good. Very good. “Good boy.” You muttered, without knowing where the hell that could come from, and you reached him again. Stroking your hands up and down his shaft, nourishing yourself over the vibration of his muffled moans against your hand. His eyes weren't leaving yours, if it wasn’t for when they seemed to roll to the sky. His vision periodically blackened by the waves of forbidden pleasure he was feeling over his body, who was barely him anymore. Your eyes were gorging on the vision of his handsome muscular man, surrendering himself to your touch, sweating, trembling and panting for you. You were saluted by an utterly satisfied noise the moment you decided to lean over his manhood to drip a large amount of your own saliva moist what was already on the edge of ruin. You rolled your thumb against his tip, massage his veins with just one finger… anything to make him feel something. Anything that wasn’t pure anger, hatred or apathy. You were inclined to believe the file saying that he was nothing but a perfectly built weapon for HYDRA to command. But now, when you tickled, teased and made him shiver, and you felt all his sincere gratitude, you were certain : There is a man in here. And he was finally feeling good .

But soon, it wasn’t enough anymore. Seeing his bare thighs, powerful, thicken by years of training and super soldier serum, tensed by all the nerves and muscles deliciously answering to your call, made your inside warmed up. Your core was aching, screaming for proximity and intimacy, and before you understood what happened, you sat astride on his left thigh. The soft flesh between your legs immediately responded with delight, making you shiver. Almost instantly, you felt his grip on your hip, of the cold metal digging into your flesh with despair. It was a super soldier, with the stamina of several dozen men, but it’s been so long, and you were touching him with perfection. You felt his head on your shoulder, and slowly you started licking his temple, tasting the very fruit of your hard work : his sweat.

Galvanized by his intoxicating smell, and the thrusting he started giving to your hand, you started to move like a snake, rocking against his skin, looking for some pressure despite the fabric of your pants, mercilessly acting like a barrier of your own pleasure. You could get it off, but it was a limit that you forbid yourself to cross. But it’s true, as you were working him, you couldn’t stop yourself to think of how this would feel. Sliding inside you. You were so very short and fragile, and compared to your hand, his phallus was gigantic. He could ruin you, split you in half, using his bare hands and make you do anything. But the only person in control here, were you. And only you. You never felt anything like this before. And it’s highly probable than neither did he. You tried to vanish the thought, but the more you could feel his thigh between yours, the more you became obsessed.

The more he was approaching, the more eager the soldier became. Both of his hands firmly gripped on your behind, almost certain that it will leave bruises, but you didn’t care at this very moment. His grunts against your hands became more and more intense, and you started to feel he was about to give in. In between your fingers, small drips of salivas were started to escape. You couldn’t give up your grip now, so you made it even more tight, drawing your lips closer to your hands, you whispered as your sore wrist fastened its path “I’m here for you. Give everything to me.”

His panting became incontrolable, his eyes rolled out, his head dropped back, before he finally reached his peak. You felt the deep vibration of his ultimate cry on your hand, as your other hand was dripping of hot seed. You slowly removed your other hand from his face, and could contemplate your masterpiece : the Soldier absolutely looked like a mess, with his red face, his eyes blinking furiously, covered with his own saliva. You left his leg, both your hands dripping of his bodily fluids. You used the one that was on his lips to pick his head and forced him to look at you. You ravished your vision of this man who absolutely surrendered to your good care, deeply satisfied with your attention. You cradled his face, and you took a large lick of his spit from his chin to his mouth. Where he leaned for a wet and warm kiss. You took a good taste of him, intoxicated by whatever pheromones he could diffuse around you.

You look at him another few seconds, before recluandly moving away, to the bathroom where you not only washed your hands, but came back with a wet towel. You first cleaned with infinite care his face, and then his genitals, making sure he wouldn’t have any kind of unpleasant sensation as he had a big day ahead of him. You were his doctor and caretaker, and he had a mission to prepare. He seemed to respond well to the cleaning, not really expressive, but he made no sudden move. You could see him sighing with ease, closing his eyes as he rubbed his cheek in your palm again, when you were caressing him with the wet towel. You could still hear a loud satisfying purr. If you didn’t specifically ask him to kill someone less that an hour ago, you would actually find this absolutely adorable.

You breathed in and out, making sure he was okay. “Are you feeling better ?...” He nodded, visibly relaxed, as he was closing his pants but not much more expressive than before. He stood up, in front of you, like nothing happened. “Yes.” But to your surprise he added a second later. “Thank you, doctor.” You smiled at him as you couldn’t keep yourself from making your knuckles caressing his cheek, and finally tracking the shape of his jaws. “Good boy.” You heard yourself say, wondering what the fuck was wrong with you.He didn’t react. All the shivers, purring, sighing, and moans disappeared as soon as his pants closed. It was for the best, and you quickly took your hand back, clearing your throat. You call the guards. The Winter Soldier was fully ready for his mission preparation, and you asked them to give him some time to recover from… his cryostatic, before you would start the procedure.

In the meantime, you need a shower. A long, hot, steamy, shower.

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plush-rabbit · 4 years

Text

Bleeding Knees

Warnings: Religion (Christianity)

Word Count: 2.3K

Fandom: Obey Me

It's a restless night where no matter what you do, you can't sleep. You toss and turn and try to shut your eyes for the tiniest bit of sleep but it leads you nowhere, just limbs lost in blankets and a mind that wanders and lingers too much on unpleasant thoughts.

With a huff, you throw the blankets off, and slip into your slippers, the floor is steady underneath and doesn't alert your sleeping roommates. The door opens without a squeak and clicks softly when you close it. You walk around aimlessly, your fingertips tracing along the walls, your ears falling flat as you ignore the whisperings of paintings.

You lose yourself within this palace, the walls blend in together, paintings full of color and life make you hesitant to to watch and admire, knowing that they would scrutinize you and huff and puff.

The closer you get to the end of the hallway, the chiller it becomes. There's a gentle breeze that makes you shiver, wrapping your arms around yourself, your hands rubbing down the sides of your arms for comfort and warmth.

You crane your head over the corner, spotting a balcony door open wide, curtains fluttering and creating ghastly shadows. There's a bubble of anxiety that starts to rise but your body has a mind if it's own, walking towards the open door and stepping onto the balcony.

You breathe in the fresh air, the cold air nips at your lungs, not ready for the change of temperature. Your brush your fingers against the mental railing, the obsidian railing shines, the intricate details are etched upon the metal.

The moon shines brilliantly above you. It's full, large carters visible with a light, warm yellow glow. Stars are visible, hidden for moments behind passing clouds, but shining just as bright when you look at them again.

"It's usually a clear night here. Sorry that you stayed up late for nothing," a gentle voice fills in the night chuckles.

You jump and turn your head. "Ah! Lord Diavolo! I-I'm so sorry," you quiet to a voice in a hush, your cheeks burn red. "I didn't mean to be awake at this hour, I just couldn't sleep." You try to keep his gaze but fall at the tip of his nose, clasping your hands behind your back you look at the open door. "I'll just be on my way," you mutter.

"Oh no. Don't go. You're free to look around." He stands next to you, his arms resting at his sides, bright golden eyes watching you. "I just wish you had asked. I wouldn't want you to get lost." He pauses, his lips form a smile and there's a twinkle in his eyes. "Again."

You let out a nervous laugh. "Right." You pause and force your jaw to unclench. "I just- It was late and I didn't want to disturb anyone."

He hums next you and shifts his gaze to the garden. "May I ask you something personal?"

You stare at him, an eyebrow quirked before you return your gaze to the front of you. "Of course."

He's silent for a while that you begin to wonder if he really didn’t have a question and just wanted to make conversation. In the short time that you’ve known him, you wouldn’t put it past him but then his voice fills the night. "Do you ever think about death?"

Your hands still above the railing. "All the time," you whisper, your fingers scratching the metal railing.

"Would you accept death?" His voice lowers to match yours, his posture straightens and eyes grow heavy.

"With open arms," you answer honestly. Your eyes glance to the side, and meet his for a second. "I feel as if you're threatening me, Lord Diavolo," you say, your tone both teasing tinged by a hint of fear on your words.

He chuckles. It's a nice sound, deep and rich. "I would never threaten you."

You nod, the smile that had been beginning to form falls and you're both left staring at the scenery in front of you. Your eyes make out the outline of a hedge, following the gentle curves of the art.

The silence that fills the air is light. The lanterns outside cast a soft orange glow, flickers of shadows dancing across the both of you, your shadows bleeding out into the night.

"Do you fear death?" You ask, breaking the silence.

There's a twitch of his eyebrows, his expression unreadable before it relaxes, a coy smile plays on his lips.

"No. I'll live longer than you can ever comprehend." Exhaustion laced his voice and for a second he appears older and much more tired. It’s a sight that makes your stomach churn. "Long lifespans make for great kings." He winks at you, a cheeky grin returning to his face.

"I'm sure you'll make a great king, Lord Diavolo." You stand up straight and let out a breath. The trees rustle in the night, branches looming over head.

"Why don't you fear death?" His voice cuts through the night, rushed and shaky.

You let out a thoughtful hum. Your posture slinking back down to rest against the railing as you try to find the right words. You open and close your mouth. Tongue clicking against the roof of your mouth and peeking out to wet your lips.

"I suppose," you start out, "humans- some humans have religion to turn to and I suppose that makes it easier to handle death."

"Do you turn to religion in your time of need?"

Your eyes narrow and gaze hardens. "No."

"Why is that?" He pries further, gentle prodding of the sleeping bear.

You stare at the sky, it's endless and vacant, ends at the horizon and full of stars and colors.

"Religion," you pause, the word heavy on our tongue, "is something that you're supposed to dedicate yourself to." Your stomach churns as you speak to the Lord. "You're supposed to bleed for God. To kneel and wail praises to the Lord- to God. You should scream and pray until your throat is hoarse and bleeding." You want to claw your throat. "There is no benevolent God. No God that you can pray to when you're sobbing in the middle of the night and trying to grasp for air. No, that God is hungry- aching to hear your prayers and sins- to whisper them in the night in hope for forgiveness. You're supposed to be willing to die, to rip out your heart, to claw your throat and offer God everything you own." Your throat is burning and it's getting harder to talk. "You have to beg on the floor like a dog, to kneel and give thanks for everything that you own. That that God," you spit out the word, "is holy and above, can do no wrong. That everything you have and are is because of them." You bark out a laughter. It's sharp and humorless. "Don't get me wrong. The minute you're different- the minute that you deviate from who you're supposed to be, that you cast aside God's little vessel, you're thrown away and told that you are nothing more. You're beaten until you're black and blue, until you're crawling and spitting blood, promising to everyone above, that you won't do it again because if you do, your spirit is going to hell. You'll be tortured and murdered above ground before you ever reach hell." Your teeth are bared and you're speaking through clenched teeth. Eyes sting with unshed tears. "You eat his body and drink his blood but that isn't enough to protect you. His body is bread and you have to rip it apart- dig your teeth in and bite. His blood is wine and it's bitter and burns your throat and you have to drink it all as it stains your insides." You look back at the Lord, golden eyes that shine too bright make you look. "We're told that demons are evil. Manipulative. That you'll do your best to whisper lies into us and pervert us." Your jaw clenches and fists tighten. "If we suffer, it's all because our faith wasn't enough." You don't have the courage to look him in the eyes so you stare at his medal, the light catches on it and it glimmers. "We're made to pay the church, we're forced to give money to a place while we're told God did everything for free. That he washed the feet of prostitutes when no one else would but the believers, his followers, will turn their nose up at the thought of getting near someone like that. They'll scowl and spit and yell, insults hurled and whispered all while they go back to church and sing and hold hands and talk about doing good." You take in a deep breath, the tips of your ears burn and your nails dig into your biceps. "We're supposed to suffer for God. To praise and pray and sob and bleed," your voice cracks and a warm brown hand twitches, fingers inching towards you. "We are dogs. Loyal and willing to die. Below our Master. On our knees until we bleed." Your whole body grows heavy, arms dangling over the railing. "We don't get to be who we want to be. We have to hide ourselves and pray for this wickedness to go away." You let out a breath that you hadn't realized that you've been holding in. "That's religion in the human world."

Tears burn in your eyes, a lump in your throat makes it hard to bread and bright red lines paint your arms. You turn around and lean on the railing, arms crossed in front of you as you try to regain your breathing.

"Not a very good relationship with religion I see." His voice whispers, holding no sarcasm or attempt at a joke- just pure, genuine curiosity.

You chuckle, it isn't totally devoid of humor. "Yeah." You nod your head. "Yeah, I guess you could say it's not a good relationship."

It's silent for a while after. Gentle breeze makes the hair on your arms stand and you think about asking where the breeze comes from but you hold your tongue.

It's comfortable. Two beings enjoying each other's company while one listens to the other and their relationship to the outside.There is a silent understanding- to no poke or prod.

Your words hang in the air, heavy yet light. Burning yet cold. You've gotten your grievance out and while in no way you are healed, the wounds open and bleeding, you feel lighter. Your shoulders don't carry a burden, your stomach has lost the everlasting knot, your head feels clear and your heart aches and wants to wail until you can't speak but you feel as if it's easier to beat.

"Not all religion is like that," you whisper. "In some you aren't condemned to a life of torture." You stand a bit taller and wipe your eyes.

"But you still believe in a God?" He asks, attention fully on you. You nod. "What God do you believe in then?" He turns to face you, a gentle smile and reassuring eyes urge you to explain.

"I believe in one that is just," you answer honestly. "One that doesn’t condemn every one who disobeys to a life of torture, one who loves and welcomes everyone." You look back at Lord Diavolo and grin. "It's silly to a demon, but to a human whose life goes by so quick but lasts so long, it's a nice comfort to have."

"Humans are very strange." He runs a hand through his hair, deshelving it in the process.

"Is that why you want relationships to strengthen between the three Realms?"

He nods. "It would be nice to interact freely." He smiles at you. "Even if not everyone is as passionate as you." He gives you a chuckle.

"Heh. Are you teasing me Lord Diavolo?"

He waves his hand and shakes his head. "Please, I appreciate the title but you're free to call me Diavolo. You aren't my subject." He grabs your hand gingerly in his. "You are my guest." He bows, lowering his gaze and meets your eyes, staring intently into them.

You can only hold his gaze for a second before you turn away, thankful that the orange glow casted by the lanterns on the walls will blend in with the pink that has begun to settle on your face. You shuffle and force out a yawn. "I'm pretty tired. I think I'll be heading to bed now." You pull your hand away from his and glass your hands together intertwining them and watching him rise back to full height.

The way his eyebrows quirk makes you sure that he doesn't believe your statement.

"Allow me to walk you back." He offers his hand towards you, his cape draping and falling off his shoulder.

You give him a gentle smile and place your hand in his.

The walk back to your room is silent, steps echoing in the empty corridors, paintings that come to life watch and try to peer out of the frame as you both pass by hand in hand. He squeezes your hand every so slightly, fingers rubbing along your knuckles. You smile softly whenever he does this, feeling a sense of bond grow between you.

You arrive at your room, the door still closed and silent inside. You both stand there, hands still collapsed tightly against one anothers. He clears his throat and you turn to face him. His eyes look deep into yours, full of an emotion that you can't place.

There's a moment that lasts for too long, with breaths being held and your palms starting to get clammy, where you can feel butterflies make a home in your stomach.

"Good night Diavolo." You smile at him and the name on your tongue makes your heart skip a beat.

He presses his lips against the crown of your head and bids you good night, his hand slipping out of yours with ease, his fingers dragging and committing the feel of your hand to memory.

Once he hears the door click behind him, he brings two fingers to his lips delicately and smiles softly.

#obey me diavolo #obey me lord diavolo #diavolo x reader #obey me imagines #obey me diavolo x reader #diavolo x mc #lord diavolo x mc #obey me #tw religion #tw christianity #im having thoughts #lowkey diavolo and mc #okay bye

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thewildomega · 4 years

Text

Feral Red Dog ch. 1

A/N: So I will say this again Trigger Warning. Also this Awesome Fan art of young Sakazuki is not mine, the artist to what I understand deleted their account so I hope they won’t mind me using their work. Anyways I hope ya’ll like it and if you could leave me some feedback it would make my day.

Sitting on the cold, hard stone you winced at the ache of your backside and the burning pain of your wrists. Looking down at the cuffs binding your wrists together you noticed the red stain to your skin and tilting your head, you bit your lip at the sight of your now raw flesh, patches of flesh rubbed away by the rough metal. Sighing you pulled your knees up to your chest in an attempt to get more warmth to your near freezing body. The cave- like place those disgusting pirates deemed as a good hiding place was damp and cold, seeming to seem into your very bones. It had been days since you had seen the sun and even longer since you had eaten, you were pretty sure your body had given up asking for food at this point. You felt so weak, even if a chance to ever escape came you doubt you would be able to make it far in your state. Glancing up to the man currently posted as your watchdog you saw him sitting on the crate, his own eerie black eyes lifting from where he had been sharpening a blade to look at you. Dropping your head to your knees you let your heavy eyes slip close and took in a shallow breath, your broken ribs making it hard to get the air you needed.

Sleep almost had you under her spell when a loud boom filled the air and then the cave shook. Cannons. Snapping your eyes up you saw the man become alert as well, standing and holding his long blade in his hand while his other moved to his pistol on his hip. Men shouting and yelling echoed through the tunnels of the cave, one word making your blood turn to ice, "Marines!"

Scrambling to your feet you started towards the male, "Hey, hey come on you have to let me...Ahhh!" A hard smack to your left cheek sent you falling to the rocky floor, blood dripping from your lips.

"Quiet girl!" He huffed.

"JET, KEEP THE BITCH ALIVE! SHE'S WORTH A FORTUNE!" Another male voice rang from down the tunnel.

Breathing heavily you could only listen as the marines began infuriating the cave. Gunshots and yelling bounced off the cave walls. The high pitch clash of swords and screams of those being injured or killed filled your ears. Your heart was soon to beat out of your chest like that of a cornered animal about to be slaughtered. Swallowing hard you felt your body begin to tremble as the heavy boots thumped on the cave floor. They were coming. Seeing the male that had been keeping watch of you yell out and charge forward you tensed. A blood curdling scream was heard before a body fell into your line of sight, a young man dressed in marine whites that were quickly turning red. The sound of a gun went off, a bullet ricocheting off the rock walls and more yelling. It was now or never. Either way you were most likely going to die, you wouldn't go down without a fight. Hurrying to the side you looked around the large bolder to see the man who had been watching you battling a marine. Snapping your eyes in the other direction you saw shadows of men on the walls. Licking your cracked lips you hear a gasp and looked to see 'Jet' cut the other man in the abdomen, the male falling backwards. Watching as the pirate lifted his gun, pulling back the hammer and aiming at the young male you saw a fallen sword laying by the dead male and acted quickly. Grabbing the blade you ran towards the male and shoved it through his shoulder blades as hard as you could. Watching him fall dead beside the injured marine you met the young beta's eyes for only a moment, shock filling his grey eyes before you took off down the tunnel.

Skidding to a stop as more fighting broke out in front of you, you opted for running around them. Hearing what sounded like the captain of the pirates yell for someone to grab you, you kicked the man who went to grab you in the groin as you ran for the exit. A sharp pain in your thigh made you stumble, your leg falling out from under you and a broken cry leave your throat as you rolled to the ground and out of the cave entrance. Whimpering you grit your teeth and forced yourself to stand, your right leg now barely able to hold your weight. Seeing an open grass covered plain in the full moon's light you began limping as fast as you could for it. As the sound of the battle seemed to grow more distant you thought you may be in the clear before something was sending you falling towards the ground again and hard. Whimpering you let out a huff though your nose as you tried to push yourself up again.

"Give it up, Pirate scum."

Hearing the extremely deep male voice you pushed yourself up to your knees, the male's shadow falling over you as he came to stand in front of you.

Looking over the what he now knew to be female he watched as she struggled to get to her knees in the tall grass. Walking around to stand in front of her he looked down at her and noticed imminently the iron shackles around her wrists that were not marine grade. It was hard to tell in the moonlight but she looked like she had been through hell. As her tired eyes met his he scanned over her beaten face he quickly came to the assumption that she was not in fact one of those pirates but more likely a captive of theirs. Still though there was something wild in her eyes. Crouching down to get a closer look of her he was hit with a strong scent that made something primal in him purr with delight. he now knew why she was being held captive by them, this young woman was an omega. Reaching out to grip her jaw in his large hand dodged her attempted bite and dug his fingers into her skin a little as he tilted her face to each side, looking for any signs of pervious claim, seeing none he raised one brow.

You knew him, oh God why did it have to be him? Vice Admiral Sakazuki. Fear, all you felt was fear and it was made worse by the overwhelming scent of his alpha hormones. How, how did it come to this? With you on your knees, wrists chained, with none other than the most feared vice admiral staring down at you with his hard, brown eyes, seeming to burn a hole straight to your soul. Holding the alpha’s stare you grit your teeth, "Well get on with it." you growled. If he was going to kill you you wished he would hurry it up. But to your surprise the male only let out a small huff of amusement before the corner of his lip lifted up, his next words changing the rest of your life.

"You'll do." he huffed.

Furrowing your brows you felt your heart hammer in your ears. Watching him stand back to full height you wanted to ask what he meant but the world started spinning and other muffled voices were growing closer. Feeling very lightheaded you blinked your heavy eyes and saw him no longer focusing on you as he spoke to whoever else was there. Weakly you tried to move, pushing your body up to your wobbly legs but fell to the ground shortly after. Looking up at the stars as they twirled around the night sky you saw something dark block your view. Deep muffled voices sounded like thunder in your ears and then you were being lifted from the dew covered grass and an immense warmth was enveloping you. Trying to keep your heavy eyes open you parted your dry lips to speak when a deep voice cut through the darkness evading your mind.

"Sleep omega." he told her and felt her small form fall limp in his arms. Carrying her back to his ship he made his way straight to the med bay and barked out for one of the doctors to come attend to her. Now in the light of he ship he saw she was small, frail even. Her dirty and matted hair looked to be a Crimson red and she was very malnourished, her torn and bloody clothing doing nothing to hide how skinny she was. Stepping back as the doctor went to work on her he crossed his arms over his chest.

"Who is this woman Vice Admiral?" the doctor asked.

"That is something I intend to find out. Treat her and keep me updated on her condition." he spoke deeply, leaving no room for discussion.

"Yes sir." the woman said and heard the male's heavy footsteps grow faint as he left them alone.

.............................

Hushed voices. Warmth. Pain. Groaning you felt your brow twitch and the extreme dryness of your throat. Attempting to swallow just to get some kind of moisture you flinched when something touched you. Feeling your head get lifted some and another pillow get moved behind your head you whimpered at the stiffness of your body.

"Shhh, it's alright, you are safe. Here drink."

Feeling something touch your lips you obeyed and swallowed greedily at the water the unknown woman was giving you. Once you had had your fill you turned your head slightly and felt her pull the glass away. Cracking your eyes open you instantly closed them again at the light that blinded you. Flutter your lashes open slowly you felt your eyes adjust and then blinked a few times before finally being able to look at the woman, the nurse as she was so obviously dressed. Casting a glance around the room you saw what looked to be a hospital room. White walls, white floors and white ceilings. It smelled clean as well.

"You are in the hospital on Marine headquarters." she told the woman in a kind voice.

Snapping your eyes back to the beta female you tensed at the information. You could only stare at the brown haired woman as she went about telling you how lucky you were to be alive and how Vice Admiral Sakazuki had been the one to 'save' you.

Noticing the woman's breathing pick up she reached out to touch her and saw her instantly recoil. "You are okay miss, you are safe here, no one is going to hurt you." She told her. "Can you tell me your name?" she asked but the woman wouldn't answer. "Are you hurting at all? I can adjust your medication...."

"No." you spoke, your voice cracking a bit. No you didn't want her to put you back to sleep, you needed to find a way out of here.

"Well you must be hungry. I will go get you some soup and inform the Vice admiral that you are awake."

"Time..." you croaked out, glancing to the window and seeing little to no light.

"It's almost dawn. He is likely not up yet but he was very clear that he was to be told when you woke." she spoke, adjusting the woman's blankets. "You just relax and I will be back shortly."

Watching the woman walk out of the room, closing the curtain behind her to give you privacy you looked down to your body and saw you wore nothing but a simple grey gown. Lifting your arms you saw your wrists wrapped in bandages along with a small one over the cut that had been on your forearm. There was an IV line in the top of your hand. Following the line up to the stand you saw two bags, one most likely fluids and the other medicine of some sorts. Taking a deep breath you bit your lip as you pushed yourself up into a sitting position, your muscles aching along with your side. Hooking a finger in the neck of your gown you saw your upper half wrapped in bandages as well. Pushing the blankets from your legs and lifting the gown up your thigh you saw a thick layer of gauze wrapped around your mid thigh, the gunshot. That would pose a problem in your escape. Turing to hang your legs over the bed you eased off the side and had to quickly catch yourself from falling to the floor. Panting you took a few minutes to adjust, pulling the IV out of your hand and tossing it to the bed. Stumbling to the curtain you peeked out and saw another bed on the other side, a sleeping man there. Noticing a neatly folded pile of clothes on the table you narrowed your eyes.

After painstakingly pulling on the man's marine uniform you sun your hair around into a ball on the top of your head and tugged on the cap, tucking in any stray hairs. Walking to the opening the nurse had left through you peeked out and saw as another nurse, an older lady moved behind another curtain across the room. With a deep breath you started across the room and out to the hall, keeping your head down. Looking left then right you saw no one either way but could hear voices coming from the right so you chose left. Walking for some time you saw people coming towards you, two doctors by the looks of it. Panicking you grabbed the vase of flowers from the nurse's station counter and kept walking, holding the flowers over your face.

"Morning officer." one of the doctors spoke.

"Morning." you muttered, making your voice as deep as possible. Hurrying down the stairs you continued holding the vase until you got to to the main front desk and placed them down. Walking out of the hospital you started going down as many side streets as possible until before long you had no idea where you were and the sun was up in the sky. More people were out on the street now, marines and what you assumed were their families. Seeing a woman walking with two small children you swallowed hard and moved to her. "Excuse me miss..." When she turned to look at you you licked your lips, "I was wondering if you could help me out, I'm new here and well I'm a little lost. Could you tell me where the docks are?"

Smiling she tilted her head. "Of course, I was the same my first few months here. If you go down this main street you will see a sign that tells you to go right and you just follow that the whole way down to the docks."

Nodding you gave her a small smile and thanks before following down the way she told you. Feeling your leg throb you bit the inside of your cheek and pushed on. If you were lucky you would be able to slip aboard a leaving ship and then play marine until you could slip away on the next island. Turning right like the woman said you were passing a storefront when something wrapped around your waist, a large hand coming up to cover your mouth before you could say a word.

................................

Walking down the halls of the hospital, people moved out of his way per usual. Getting to the wing she had been in for the last four days he saw a nurse carrying a tray of soup and other small things towards her room. The young woman looked up at him and grinned politely. "Good morning Vice Admiral, I was just about to bring her something to eat."

"So she is awake then?" he asked, moving to help open the curtain for the nurse so she wouldn't spill the omega's food.

"Yes sir she..."

Hearing the young woman stop short and seeing her face turn to one of shock he quickly looked to the bed to see it empty. "WHERE IS SHE?!" he roared.

Shaking at the alpha's loud roar she felt some of the soup spill to her front and quickly looked up to his eyes, shaking her head. Opening and closing her mouth a few times she swallowed hard, "I.. I don't know sir, she... she was just here. I only went to tell someone to inform you and then walk down to the dining hall to get her something to eat. I don't understand how she..."

Moving into the room he saw the IV line on the bed and her discarded gown on the floor. Narrowing his eyes he pulled back the curtain of the next room and saw a male laying in bed, his head wrapped in bandages. Looking to the table he saw the man's clothes gone. She had taken them, she was impersonating an officer. Growling he walked past the nurse and out to find the omega he planned to make his.

Marching through the streets he snapped his eyes ot every officer he saw, scanning their face. She was injured so she shouldn't have been able to get far but truth be told she shouldn't have been able to even get out of the hospital. It had been almost a week since he had found her and since then she had been out cold. The doctor on his ship had told him she had been lucky to be alive. Along with a gunshot wound to her thigh that had caused her to loose much blood she had many broken ribs and the wounds on her wrists from the cuffs had already begun to get infected. She had been kept on antibiotics and pain medication to help her catch up on the rest her body obviously needed. With all of that he couldn't lie that he was impressed by her determination and will but that changed nothing, she would be his.

Continuing to look for her for sometime he was beginning to get frustrated when he heard his name being called and turned to see a petty officer running towards him, the young boy stopping to salute him.

"Vice Admiral Sakazuki, you are to report to Fleet Admiral Kong sir." the young boy said.

Sighing he nodded his head and watched the boy make his leave. Giving one last look around he grit his teeth, he hoped she wouldn't find her way off the island before he got finished attending to Kong. He still kept a look out for her the whole way but to his disappointment she was no where to be found. Knocking on the Fleet Admiral's door he heard the male's deep voice and opened the door. What he saw made him freeze. Kong was sitting behind his desk, his large arms crossed and his face as serious as always. Occupying the long couch in front of the desk was none other than Vice Admiral Garp and Admiral Sengoku. Between the two large males, sitting with her arms crossed over her chest and a hard glare on her face was none other than the little omega he had been looking for. Meeting her eyes he saw a fire in them that was willing to battle with his magma.

"Take a seat Sakazuki, we have much to discuss." Kong spoke and watched the male close the door.

Walking over to sit in one of the two chairs on either side of the couch he looked again to the omega and saw her give him a heated glare before she turned her head and looked towards the window.

"I will take it this is the 'surprise' you encountered while on your mission?" Kong asked.

"Yes sir." he spoke.

Humming he looked to the girl. "Would you like to tell us how you became a captive of pirates... Y/n?" he asked, noticing Sakazuki's brow twitch just the slightest amount.

Remaining silent you continued looking out the window until you heard Sengoku speak from beside you.

"Go on Y/n, tell the truth."

Sighing stared out at the sea, "Got caught trying to sneak off their ship." you grumbled.

"What the hell were you doing sneaking on a god damn pirate ship girl?! Didn't I tell ya to stay on that island and behave yourself?!" Garp yelled, smacking the girl in the back of the head.

"Ow! I told you I didn't want to stay there! It was boring as all hell!"

"That was the point you little shit. We put you there because you would have been safe..."

"Safe my ass old man the slavers started coming around more and more. If I hadn't left when I did they would have found sold me to the dragons then and there!"

"So you thought that you would do what y/n, hitch a ride with pirates to the next island and then go along your way? What then? What was your plan then?" Sengoku asked in that disapproving voice of his.

"I don't know, just keep moving I guess." you shrugged, looking down to your lap.

"Well look how well that turned out?" Garp scoffed.

"You should be grateful Sakazuki found you when he did, if not then those pirates would have no doubt sold you to the highest bidder by now." Sengoku added.

Continuing to ignore them you opted for looking out the window. "So what now, you all just drop me off at some island again?" you growled.

"No." It had been the first time he had spoke through all of this and he saw as the omega....y/n's eyes snapped to him, a confused look on her face.

"Sakazuki?" Kong asked.

Looking over the omega he felt a strange pull towards her and blinked before directing his attention back towards the Fleet admiral and raising his chin. "I choose her, she will be my wife." he spoke in a deep voice.

Shocked by his sudden claim you felt your mouth fall open a bit before an anger filled you and you let out a growl, "Go fuck yourself asshole!" you snarled.

"Y/n! What have I told you about using that kind of language. Ladies do not.." Sengoku started but you cut him off.

"I ain't no damn lady!"

"Well that's for damn sure..." Garp grumbled

Listening as the three on the couch went on bickering Kong held the young vice Admiral's eyes for a moment, reading him. Taking a deep breath he looked back to the three and blinked. "Go wait outside with her. Sakazuki and I need a moment alone."

Seeing Garp and Sengoku stand on either side of you and feeling them grab your arms you shook them off and stood on your own, stomping out of the room.

Once they were left alone Kong leaned back in his chair and looked to Sakazuki. "You still have time you know, to choose a wife. Your promotion to an admiral has already been decided but it will not go into effect until the end of the year that gives you plenty of time to look around."

"I do not need to look any further. I choose her." he said affirmably.

Closing his eyes he thought on the matter. "You found her Sakazuki, by law the omega is yours to claim but I will warn you that she will not submit easily."

"What is her story?" he asked.

"We don't really know. When Rocks was defeated ten years ago Garp found her chained up at the bottom of on of his ships, she was just a child. She was badly beaten and half starved. She doesn't remember anything about her past other than the fact that Rocks had killed her entire village. From what we figured he took her as a pet or trophy of sorts. She hasn't ever opened up about her time on the ship and from the shape she was found in she may never. Once she was treated here for a time and her body healed she started to show signs of an omega and we made the decision to hide her away. I am sure you are aware of the Celestial Dragon's obsession with Omegas, most are taken from their families as soon as they show signs and sold to them. Given her past we knew she would never make it if subjected to that kind of treatment."

"Do you know how old she is?" he asked.

"No. We guess she was about eight or so when Garp found her and from what she could tell us Rocks took her when she was around five." Kong told him.

Grunting he saw Kong open his eyes and look to him.

"You are certain, you know you will not be able to change your mind once you claim her?" The fleet admiral asked.

"Yes sir."

"Very well." he said with a sigh.

Watching as Kong called for Garp and Sengoku to come back in he saw Garp currently holding onto Y/n's forearm as she hit and kick at him.

"Let me go you geezer." you growled.

"Geezer?! Keep on and I'll..."

"That's enough." Kong spoke. Looking to the young woman he saw her giving him a hard glare. Taking a deep breath he let it out slowly, "Y/n, you will marry Vice Admiral Sakazuki."

"Like hell I will!" You roared.

"It is not up for discussion!" he yelled, stopping her and both other men from speaking again.

Breathing heavily you looked to the Fleet Admiral and then to the large alpha male sitting in the arm chair with his arms crossed. When he stood and walked over to tower over you, you lifted your eyes to actually look him over. The hood of his white hoodie was still drawn, a cap still on his head and a deep scowl on his face.

Looking down at the omega he rose his chin and smirked at the look she was giving him. This would be interesting.

@lawlerek

#akainu #akainu x reader #sakazuki x reader #Yandere Akainu #Alpha Akainu #Alpha x Omega #One Piece Fanfiction

139 notes · View notes

kitty0boy · 3 years

Text

Uh ohhh, back again. So this time it’s, you guessed it, Marichat. I will write other love square fics in the future but for now I must feed my Marichat starved ass. As always, Adrien is 18, Marinette is 17, and this time, Chat pays Marinette a visit, while drunk. Nothing smutty just dumb Chat Noir. And I checked, the drinking age in France is actually 16 so this is very much legal. Enjoy!

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Adrien was bored, so incredibly bored in his absolutely massive room. Despite having a rock wall, a piano, an arcade machine, a Foseball table, a wide screen television, a computer, and an entire wall full of CDs, Adrien was bored. He felt bad that he didn’t appreciate all he had, but the simple fact is that he would give all of it away in a heartbeat, and you know what? Maybe he should. There are thousands of kids in Paris that would kill to have a fraction of all he had. And he was rich anyways so he could just buy something else. He sighed and Plagg lazily rolled over on his desk. “Are you as bored as I am?” His Kwami asked. “Yup.” He replied. What to do what to do. “You know Plagg, I kind of feel like pissing off my father right now.” He said nonchalant. “Who are you and what have you done with Adrien?” Plagg teased, earning a giggle from his wielder. Over the years Plagg seemed to rub off on him. He was still a hundred times more responsible than Plagg but he wasn’t a stick in the mud when it came to rules. He wasn’t afraid to piss of Gabriel or disappoint him anymore, he didn’t spend much time with him anyways. “Well then,” Plagg said, floating up “let’s see what we can find.”

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Marinette had finally figured out a routine when it comes to being the guardian. The Kwamis were allowed out of the miracle box for two hours everyday. She would set up snacks, board games, arts and crafts and more to keep them entertained. In exchange, they would stay quiet so that people wouldn’t be worried for her, plus it helped to not have the Kwamis ripping her room to shreds. Their time out of the miracle box had just ended. She had already cleaned up the board games and brought the plates down stairs. She was about to change into her pjs when something poked through her window. It was a black glove. She squealed and tried to quickly pull her shirt back on before he could come in. “Chat Noir! What did I say about knocking?” She quickly stuffed the miracle box into her closet before approaching the window. He didn’t climb in right away though, instead he dangled from the window sill. She poked her head out and made eye contact with him.

“Look Marinette, now I’m the damsel I’m distress, waiting for my hero to save me.” He slurred his words a little which was odd. Playing along she grabbed him by the arms and pulled him up through her window. Instead of standing and climbing through the window. He dragged himself in and slumped to the floor with his back against the carpet. “You know, you’re strong for a little person.” He giggled. “Ok kitty, get up.” He followed orders and stood, but he swayed slightly and laughed more when she held him steady. He reached up and, booped her. What? She knew he was a dork but he never usually acted like this. Then the faint scent of expensive wine hit her nose. “Chat are you drunk?” He crossed his arms infront of him. “No I’m not, I’m Chat Noir.” He laughed at his own dad joke. “Yeah ok, you’re drunk.” She sighed and rubbed her temple. “Just wait here a minute.”

She went downstairs and got a glass of water and some croissants for him to snack on. She opened the trap door, “Ok kitty, time for you to sober up.” She looked at him, still standing in the same place she had left him. What a goof.

“Come sit Chat, we can watch a movie while you eat.” He obeyed and collapsed dramatically onto the chaise lounge. “Can I get cuddles Marinette, your knight in shining armour is touch starved, only the cuddles of his *hic* purrincess can save him from this curse.” She giggled, “Ok, but after you eat first.” He sat bolt upright and seemed to regret that decision because he slumped and collapsed again. She laughed and he pouted, “Chat oh my god, you don’t have to rush, I’m not leaving.” He smiled clumsily, was it even possible to smile clumsily? He sat up in slow motion, no he actually tried to move in slow motion before slowly reaching out and grabbing a croissant. “Chat you’re going to kill me,” she laughed “you don’t have to move in slow motion, you can eat at a normal pace.” Somehow, he didn’t understand the concept of normal because he shoved the whole croissant into his mouth, chewed, and swallowed. ‘How was that even possible?’ she thought, did he have power she didn’t know about? Like stretchy mouth or something? She stared at him dumbly as he inhaled another croissant. “Ok kitty, this time we’re going to take bites.” She picked up a croissant and took a bite out of it, “Like this see, bites.” It was like teaching a toddler, she had done it in the past but said toddler wasn’t drunk and 6 feet tall. Chat didn’t grab the last croissant on the plate, instead he took a regular sized bite of the croissant in Marinette’s hand, chewed and swallowed. She laughed again, he was such a dork. She decided that it would just be easier to let him eat the croissant like that so she fed him the rest and adjusted her computer on the desk so it was facing them. She handed Chat the remote. “Ok kitty, you pick what movie you wanna watch and I’ll be right back ok? Don’t go anywhere.” He gave a toothy grin before sliding to the ground and sitting against the chaise lounge. She sighed smiling and walked towards her bathroom to change and get ready for bed.

When she walked back in, Chat wasn’t scrolling through movie options or even sitting up right. He was lying, on the ground starring blankly at her ceiling with the song “Despacito” playing from his baton. She walked over to him and kneeled by his face, “Chat Noir what are you do-?” He placed a finger on her lips and slurred out a “Shhhhh.” Before a tear rolled down his cheek, she looked at him, mixed between trying not to laugh and concerned. “I’m in my feels princess.” He said before deeply inhaling. “DESPACI-“ her hand slapped over his mouth before she rested her head on his chest and wheezed out a laugh. “Chat oh my fucking god.” She said between giggles “You have to keep quiet, my parents would kill me if they found out you were here, and drunk no less.” He reached up and put his hand on top of her hand that was currently silencing him, instead of pulling it off, he kissed it and smiled at her. Her face turned beet red as she stared at him. That is until he licked her hand. She pulled her hand away and wiped it on her shirt. “Chat!” She exclaimed, he brought his hands behind his head and smirked at her, “Who’s the loud one now little lady?” She blushed again, if it wasn’t for the fact that he just licked her, she might have stammered too. Instead she just shook her head, “Come on Chat, let’s watch a movie.” His eyes lit up and he stood, jumping up and down, “Do I get cuddles now?” His tail swished behind him. Was he a dog or a cat? She laughed and agreed before the pair settled on the chaise.

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The sun was beaming on his face when he woke up. He was surprised he didn’t have a headache. He opened his eyes and the first thing he saw, was pink. Lots and lots of pink. His eyes shot open and looked around before landing on a mop of Raven hair. Marinette was cuddled up to him, her arms encircling his torso while her head rested on one half of his chest, one of her legs crossed over his. ‘Oh no, oh shit shit shit.’ He gulped before slowly moving his hand down her back, oh thank god, she had clothes on. He smiled down at her and soon, she blinked up at him. “Good morning Marinette.” He said, his voice still heavy with sleep. “Ah so you’re sober I see, don’t worry, nothing happened.” She said reassuringly. He ran a hand down his face, a gloves hand. Ah so he came here as Chat Noir. “Do you remember anything?” He shook his head and she filled him in. “Well I’m glad I didn’t do anything stupid.” He laughed, “Nope it was more like babysitting an overgrown toddler.” She laughed, he smiled. “I’m surprised you don’t have a headache.” She said, “It’s probably the suit, it will probably get worse when I take to suit off.” He made to leave but Marinette held him down. “Nope, I had to babysit you all night, I request cuddles as payment.” He sighed before rolling onto his side and nuzzling his face into her neck. “Fine by me purrincess.”

He was right, his head nearly split open from the hangover, but it was all worth it.

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Thanks for reading!

#marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #marichat #miraculous ladybug tales of ladybug and chat noir #miraculous ladybug #mlb #mlb fanfic #marichat fanfic

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carmichealroyals · 3 years

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CHARACTER INSPIRATION // C H A L L E N G E

Rules: Write up a blurb or make a visual collage of the people or characters (from books, TV shows, movies, etc.) that inspired your OC, either visually, personality wise, or just a general vibe.

I was tagged by this by so many lovely pals -- @thelockwoodroyals, @wa-royal-tea AND @ourwillowcreekroyals !!! I only feel bad that it took me so long but I wanted it to be as perfect as it could be while taking time to fiddle with Photoshop more (thank you @royaldevilliers for answering my silly questions). Below the cut are the descriptions for the personality types and tropes for each of the main three kids of this next generation!

Not sure who’s done this yet, so if you see this and you want to do it, this is me telling you to do it!

CHARLOTTE:

The Protagonist: Protagonists are natural-born leaders, full of passion and charisma. Forming around two percent of the population, they are oftentimes our politicians, our coaches and our teachers, reaching out and inspiring others to achieve and to do good in the world. With a natural confidence that begets influence, Protagonists take a great deal of pride and joy in guiding others to work together to improve themselves and their community.

Spirited Young Lady: She is the girl who bends the rules just a little. Oh, she can dance a country dance or pour tea with the best of them, but she may also be a good walker or horseback rider. She may be the most intelligent girl in the story, and she is almost certainly the wittiest and the most outspoken, sometimes earning her the title of spitfire. She may be talented in more practical ways, as well: if given the opportunity, she may turn out to be a wise investor, and she may harbor talent for music, writing, or art that goes beyond drawing room entertainment and might become a means of financial independence if necessary. In rare cases, she may even solve a murder. Though she occasionally runs into some trouble, especially if she fails to obey the powers that be, she usually comes through in the end.

Deadpan Snarker: A character prone to gnomic, sarcastic, sometimes bitter, occasionally whimsical asides.The Deadpan Snarker exists to deflate pomposity, point out the unlikelihood of certain plans, and deliver funny lines. Typically the most cynical supporting character. In most cases, it is implied that the snarker would make a good leader, strategist, or consultant given their ability to instantly see the flaws in a constructed plan. More often than not, their innate snarkiness is the only thing preventing the other characters from comprehending this for themselves.

Politically Active Princess: The Politically Active Princess is a princess that takes active interest in and plays an active role in politics. Naive courtiers and commoners alike might view her only as a figurehead, but in truth, she discreetly uses her position and guile in order to achieve her ends. Skilled in diplomacy, she will usually attempt to solve conflicts via conversation or bargaining, rather than combat. Her defining trait is her involvement in politics or diplomatic matters, without letting herself serve only as a bargaining chip.

Inspired by: Mia Thermopolis (The Princess Diaries); Lorelai Gilmore (Gilmore Girls); Vex’ahlia (Critical Role); Jenny Lee (Call the Midwife)

PETER:

The Architect: It can be lonely at the top. As one of the rarest personality types – and one of the most capable – Architects (INTJs) know this all too well. Rational and quick-witted, Architects may struggle to find people who can keep up with their nonstop analysis of everything around them.

The Dog Bites Back: Unlike the Bastard Understudy and The Starscream, this character attacks as a crime of opportunity. There is no danger that he will take over the villain's place in the grand scheme of things. There is, however, a possibility that he will menace the others as a True Final Boss. The backstabber often ends up dead, but this is usually not Redemption Equals Death because their motive is not noble. Innocent victims who turn on the villain typically do it only for revenge, while evil victims prove that they were fine with all of the Big Bad's crimes except the one committed against them.

Middle Child Syndrome: Everyone loves the oldest child because the parents can rely on them, they watch out for their siblings, and they're so confidently attractive. The Youngest Child Wins because they're the "baby". But what does that leave the one in the middle? That's essentially the definition of Middle Child Syndrome, in which a child automatically may become The Unfavorite or the rebellious Black Sheep, specifically because they are the easiest child to overlook. They're not old enough to be given the responsibilities and privileges of the oldest, and the youngest child took their spot as the spoiled and doted-on "baby" of the family. This tends to be more of an issue when there are three children rather than four or more. Oftentimes in media, the middle child ends up becoming more of the Deadpan Snarker or the quirky one for this reason.

The Un-Favorite: Where there's an Alpha wolf, there's got to be a Beta. When there is a first banana, there is a second banana. This is the person in the family who can't get a break. For example, this is the child who's the big let-down to their parents, the daughter that was supposed to be a son (or vice-versa), the child the parents had by accident when they'd already decided they didn't need another mouth to feed, the adoptive, foster, or stepchild that came before the parents had a biological child, the illegitimate child conceived by infidelity on the part of one of the parents (if not even worse). But all in all, this is basically the kid who is always getting the short-end of the stick. In some extreme cases, this may cause Rich Sibling, Poor Sibling, especially if one sibling is forced into service to the other. A regular line that may be entailed with this is a variant of, "Honestly, [name], why can't you be more like [favorite's name]?"

Inspired by: Edith Crawley (Downton Abbey); Fiyero (Wicked: The Musical); Logan Huntzberger (Gilmore Girls); Rafael Solano (Jane the Virgin)

PEGGY:

The Mediator: Idealistic and empathetic, Mediators long for deep, soulful relationships, and they feel called to help others. But because this personality type makes up such a small portion of the population, Mediators may sometimes feel lonely or invisible, adrift in a world that doesn’t seem to appreciate the traits that make them unique.

The Baby of the Bunch: Being the youngest of your group typically comes with some perks and challenges. On one side you're probably the cutest, have a pass to act immature, people like taking care of you, and you can embrace your fun side, knowing that the elders are there to handle the serious stuff. And if there's anything you're naïve about, you have plenty of others to give you the realest unfiltered advice without the generational gap and detachment that your parents or the Old Master have. On the other end, sometimes people don't take you seriously. There you're kinda stuck because no matter how old you get, you'll always be "the baby" in their eyes.

Indifferent Beauty: A character who is attractive, aware of their effect on other people, but doesn't care or at least doesn't value their physical attractiveness over their other traits. Often, this character is a consummate professional who is well aware of the fact that they could use their "assets" to get what they want by other means, but feels that it would be unprofessional or beneath their dignity, and is instead focused on proving that they can compete purely on skill, often to the exclusion of romantic opportunities. While such characters are not averse to dressing in sexy outfits, they don't plan on relying on or even exploiting their sex appeal - but the camera will often do that for them. Other characters' indifference is not due to regarding relying on appearance to be beneath their dignity, but rather that they consider it to be unimportant.

Spoiled Sweet: The Spoiled Sweet character is a naive, spoiled, rich or comfortably upper-class or upper-middle-class girl, who has everything they could ever want, but instead of being mean, she is as nice as can be to everyone. While still spoiled, slightly naive, perhaps shallow, maybe even a bit selfish at times, when it comes right down to it, she is a loyal friend and doesn't use her money or popularity as an excuse to treat everyone like garbage — though the trope Rich in Dollars, Poor in Sense is in play, especially since a particularly common sticking point is that characters of this type often believe their friends and other loved ones deserve to live just as well as they do.

Inspired by: Rory Gilmore (Gilmore Girls); Beth March (Little Women); Pike Trickfoot (Critical Role); Peggy Schuyler (Hamilton: An American Musical)

#sim: princess charlotte #sim: prince peter #sim: princess margaret

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katrinawritesthings · 3 years

Text

Jonghyun / Taemin; bridging parallels ; nc17

jonghyun and taemin live in the apartments across from each other and jonghyun has been watching taemin climb out of his window and sneak out of the house several times a week for years ever since they were both in high school

for summer of shinee 2021 : )

Him and Taemin text still. Not often, and when they do, it's never really a full conversation. Mostly just memes shared at 2 in the morning, small talk, happy birthdays. Look at that dog texted fervently at 7 p.m. On a Thursday dragging one of them at light speed to their window to obey. Taemin makes his way into one of Jonghyun's articles again, this time a little spotlight of his work as a choreographer for an entire show.

Jonghyun has known Taemin since they were kids. Apartment neighbors, kind of. Jonghyun is 408, Taemin is 718. The way the apartments are set up, Jonghyun can sit at his bedroom window, look outside, and see Taemin's bedroom window across the way and one floor down. They go to elementary school together, then middle school, and then high school. They have one or two classes together over the years. None of that really matters because they never really talk.

What was the homework texted here, our mutual friend both invited us to the same party there, look at that dog shouted into the space between their windows at 7 p.m. On a Thursday one time in 8th grade. Whatever.

Even when Taemin starts sneaking out at night, the summer after sophomore year, 15 years old, it doesn't magically make them have a speaking relationship. All it does is distract Jonghyun as he's sitting at his window sill, scented candle lit, summer reading program report under his hands. Distracts him and makes him drop his pencil four floors into the bushes that line the building.

He doesn't watch it long enough to see it hit the ground. He's far too interested in watching whatever the fuck Taemin thinks he's doing. He's clambering out of his window, his third-story window, nothing but a concrete drop below him, and then he's actually climbing up, up the wall, up the building, up three floors until he's hauling himself up onto the roof.

When Taemin makes it up there, he rolls out of view over the ledge, but then his head pops back over. He looks all the way down, and even from far away, Jonghyun can see the huge smile spread over his face. His hands slap excitedly on the ledge before he stands up, turns, and disappears again as he jogs away, the high kick of his ankle behind him as he stumbles a step the last thing that Jonghyun sees of him.

Until he sees him sneaking out again the next night.

It doesn't become a nightly thing, but it is still regular enough that, every night when he's at his window sill with a candle and some writing, he’ll glance up at any movement he sees across the way just in case. It doesn't stop when school starts back up again, either. Sometimes Jonghyun will watch Taemin clamber out of his window, up the building, and disappear on the roof one night and then watch him sleeping on the bus the next morning, wondering how many hours he actually got. Sometimes he'll be up late enough to watch Taemin sneak back in, a descent three floors down from the roof that stops Jonghyun's heart every time.

School goes on. Jonghyun takes storytelling electives; music, ceramics, creative writing, art. He reads comic books, watches anime, looks up walkthroughs of video games that he can't play himself. He gets detention one time for being late and a kid sitting next to him offers him some weed, which he tries but doesn't really like, but that kid helps him through some spontaneous crying a few weeks later so they become pretty close and he winds up being the designated driver to a bunch of stoners. His dad moves out, his sister moves out, his sister moves back in. He picks up a part-time job at a music store during his senior year to help with the bills.

He sees Taemin around every now and again. They have ceramics together, for one. Taemin sits at another table with his own group of friends, but he smiles and says hey to Jonghyun when they wind up in the glazing room together. He comes into Jonghyun's job sometimes, looking over new album releases and buying everything a particular band puts out.

Jonghyun sees Taemin dancing during school pep rallies, assemblies, during rehearsals and the big night for a talent show they're both in where Jonghyun almost cries on stage because he's so nervous to be playing one of his own self written songs in front of people. He cries backstage instead and they still don't talk, but Taemin offers him a quick hug as they pass, hand rubbing over his back, and then he's gone before Jonghyun even really realized he was there in the first place. Later that night, Taemin sneaks out and then back in again within an hour.

And that night is also the first night that Taemin notices Jonghyun watching him. It’s just as he’s putting his hands on his windowsill to hoist himself up that he hesitates and, for a reason that Jonghyun can't come up with, looks directly across the way at Jonghyun.

He jumps when he sees Jonghyun, like he's startled; Jonghyun waves, a little confused, a little amused. Taemin looks down, covering what has to be an embarrassed smile with his hand.then Taemin looks up, waves back, and clambers out of his window and up the wall like usual. After he reaches the top, he peeks his head over the edge for the first time since that first night. Jonghyun leans just a little bit out of his window to smile and wave again. Even with all of the distance between them, Jonghyun can see the flash of his smile as Taemin taps two fingers to his temple and flicks them off in a salute.

From that night on, everytime that Taemin sneaks out, they wave at each other.

They graduate; Jonghyun with okay grades and Taemin with probably the same. Jonghyun doesn't go to college or anything. He upgrades his job at the music store to full time and does some freelance work online writing articles about art events and festivals in the area while he tries to work on his own stories in his free time. Taemin doesn't leave town either, because he still climbs out of his window and disappears over the roof on a regular basis. It's not until Taemin comes into the music store one time to buy a new CD and Jonghyun recognizes the logo on his hoodie as belonging to the local dance theater that he figures out what Taemin has been up to lately.

And it's not until they happen to both wind up in the little corner store down the street from their apartment complex at the same time that they have their first real conversation.

Jonghyun is there because he wanted snacks and his sister wanted snacks and he lost the rock paper scissors to decide who would go out and get some. Taemin is apparently there to buy some booze because he's standing in front of all of the refrigerators and contemplating the selection when Jonghyun opens one next to him to grab a couple bottles of soda.

"Oh, sorry," Taemin says, glancing at him and stepping a little bit away, and then, brighter, "oh, hey Jonghyun."

"Hey," Jonghyun says back, pleasantly surprised to recognize him. "Party?" he asks, nodding at all of the liquor. Taemin shakes his head, tells Jonghyun that he's just looking for something fun and fruity to enjoy by himself in his room sometimes. For self-care, he says. Jonghyun tells him he gets that and taps the glass in front of one of his favorite fruity boozy drinks in recommendation. Taemin shrugs and takes his word, opening the refrigerator and pulling out the bottle without even really looking at the label or anything on it. Then, after a moment's hesitation, asks, "how old are you again?"

"20," Jonghyun tells him, smiling a little sheepishly. "Maybe I ask my sister to buy me alcohol. Don't tell anyone."

And Taemin's response to that is a snort, a broad grin, and a hand slipping into his back pocket and pulling out his wallet. "As long as you don't tell anyone about this," he says as he pulls out his ID card from its clear plastic flap, slots it in with all his other cards, pulls out a different ID card, and puts that in the flap.

The blunt casualness of that whole exchange surprises a laugh out of Jonghyun, one that sounds loud in the quiet little store. He doesn't try to stifle it; has never really tried to stifle his laughter. Still chuckling, he offers up his pinky to Taemin to promise. Taemin looks at him, looks at his pinky, covers his mouth and nose with the back of his hand for a moment, then links their pinkies together.

Taemin buys his alcohol and leaves the store before Jonghyun finishes picking up all of his snacks, but he sees Taemin ahead on the sidewalk on the way back and jogs to catch up with him.

"Don't go climbing out of your window after you drink any of that," he says, worried halfway through the sentence that maybe he's overstepping but finishing anyway. Taemin does that thing again, where he looks down and rubs his nose, and is the first one to offer up his pinky this time.

Taemin picks up a fashion for denim-on-denim, leather, spikes. Dark clothes, baggy hoodies, lots of rings. Beanies, worn-out shoes. Jonghyun attaches himself to big comfy sweaters, turtlenecks, bracelets cinching over the sleeves. Ripped jeans, snapbacks, boots. Taemin lets his hair grow out until it fans out around his face, soft and wavy, then cuts it short into a choppy bowl cut and a crisp undercut. Jonghyun tries out an undercut too, finds he likes it, experiments with dying his hair every couple of months. Taemin has some new piercings–shark bites, cheek studs, spikes through his ears. Jonghyun has some new tattoos–words on his arms, permanent bracelets around his wrists, planets on his side, a starscape on his back.

Jonghyun starts teaching guitar lessons at the music store to kids on the weekends. His mom gets promoted at her job. They stop struggling as much, settle into something almost resembling financial security. He keeps freelancing and in one of his articles he writes about a culture show the dance theater is putting on. In the picture that runs with the article, Taemin is standing on the end, smiling with his arm around a fellow dancer, doing a victory sign for the camera.

There's a queer club down the street from the music store that Jonghyun goes to sometimes. He makes new friends, has a couple of casual hookups, has a cute girlfriend for a while but things don't really work out. It's fine between them after. Taemin almost has a cute date friend one time, but that doesn't work out either. Jonghyun knows this because he watches the whole thing happen from his window sill.

He's there, writing notebook under his hands, scented candle next to his elbow, just like every night, and Taemin is suddenly there on the roof. Except, for once, he's not alone. Someone else is with him. A little taller, thick dark hair spilling out of a pulled up hoodie, and that's about all Jonghyun can see of them. The pair of them sit down on the ledge, feet dangling over nothing, close enough that their shoulders almost brush every so often.

Jonghyun doesn't mean to snoop, or eavesdrop, or anything. Taemin's love life is his own business. It's interesting, yeah, to watch them stargazing and talking together, but Jonghyun really is only glancing up at them every couple of minutes to distract his brain a little bit so he can focus on his writing without getting distracted a lot by something else. And it just so happens, that during one of those glances, Taemin tries to make his move.

It's not much of a move; a purposeful bump of their shoulders, a rub of his nose with the back of his hand, something said to make them look at him directly. More quiet words, a leaning in–not all the way, but enough to be clear–a tilt of his head like he's asking a question, and then.

And then. The other person leaning back, shaking their head, covering their mouth with both hands. Quickly they reach for Taemin's hand, holding it tight as they speak earnestly, as Taemin nods up and down and tugs his hair at the back of his head where they can't see.

They sit together for a little while longer after that, but a barely perceptible distance apart now, enough space that they don't accidentally bump shoulders anymore. Then the other person stands up, starts to walk away. Taemin turns and takes their hand, carefully, asks them something that they nod in agreement to. Taemin drops their hand, flops his own hands into his lap. The other person walks away, and then a minute later, Taemin falls back, sprawls himself out over the roof until all Jonghyun can see are his legs still dangling. They kick in the air for a few seconds before flopping limply back down in defeat.

Jonghyun looks back to his writing with a shake of his head. Poor baby.

He doesn't see Taemin sneak out for a couple of weeks after that. Then, another night, another candle, another page of writing, he glances up and finds Taemin sitting at his window, arms crossed on the windowsill, face nestled in his elbow, cheek smushed up as he pouts out at nothing. Jonghyun can't help it; he smiles at the image.

"Hey sorry about your heartbreak dude" is what he texts to Taemin once he finds his number buried in all of his contacts, an entry probably put in during high school for some project that neither of them remember. And then he just watches, waits, until Taemin leans away from his window. A moment later, Taemin returns, and this time he's holding his phone and looking up at Jonghyun. Jonghyun waves with an apologetic little shrug.

"Damn you saw that??? " Taemin texts back. Jonghyun replies that he did indeed see it and offers more condolences. Taemin's sigh is audible to Jonghyun even from so far away, but he replies anyway. They talk about nothing, really; Taemin asks what Jonghyun is always writing about and Jonghyun tells him. His book that he's been working on for a while. The one where he wanted to write a love story but wound up accidentally writing a breakup scene in the first chapter and then just went with it. Taemin seems to take some comfort in hearing about a failed romance.

The night after that, Taemin climbs out of his window again.

Jonghyun's manager gets fired for tax evasion or some bullshit and suddenly he finds himself as the manager instead. Not because he's super qualified for the job, but because he's worked there for the longest, almost 11 years, and the rest of the employees are mostly part-time high school kids. All of a sudden he has all of these duties and responsibilities that he doesn't know what to do with, on top of dealing with the mess that his old boss left him with. The first thing he does is give himself and all of the employees a raise, which at first gets him a serious reprimand from upper management of the store chain, but he doesn't give a shit and the next month he gets praised for reducing customer service complaints and boosting product sales.

One night Taemin comes into the music store to buy a new album from his favorite band a couple weeks later than Jonghyun was expecting him to. Usually he shows up on day one; when Jonghyun mentions that to him, he rubs his nose with the back of his hand and shrugs, mumbling something about a giveaway online and shipping problems. Jonghyun chuckles at that, mentions that the cardboard stand that they have in the store to promote the album is free for him to take, if he wants it. He's the manager. He can do that now.

Taemin's eyes widen behind his bangs, his teeth flash in a huge smile. He thanks Jonghyun emphatically, grabs the stand, and walks out with it, holding it in front of him as he goes and biting his lip.

Jonghyun finds himself thinking about that later in bed. Taemin’s teeth biting into his bottom lip. Digging into soft, plush pink. He looked different today. Something about his face, his nose. A nose job, Jonghyun guesses, something to change the tip of his nose from a cute soft hook to a cute round end. He dropped his shark bite piercings at some point and replaced them with studs. two silver squares on each side of his bottom lip, matching the ones that dimple his cheeks, the sets that outline the tips of his eyebrows. Matching the ones lined up below his collar bones. Jonghyun could see those in the dip of his v-neck.

The piercings won't leave his mind as he tries to fall asleep. Heavy silver, bold, striking, a statement of toughness outlining his delicate features. Jonghyun wonders how they feel, if he ran his fingers over them would they be cold or would they have absorbed Taemin’s body heat. He makes the mistake of wondering if Taemin has matching studs on his hips and realizes with a start that he's running his fingers over his own lips, imagining how it would feel if he were to drag his mouth over them.

Face hot, lips tingling, Jonghyun rolls over in bed and tries to think of anything else.

It works. For a little bit. Until the next day when he waves at Taemin as he heads out for the night. Then he's thinking about them again. Then he's thinking about what kind of noises Taemin would make if Jonghyun kissed his piercings. About how much deeper, huskier Taemin's voice sounded in the store. It had to have been that deep the last time they talked, the last time Taemin came in to buy an album, but–if it was, Jonghyun doesn't remember noticing or caring as much as he does now.

This new realization has him trying with all his heart to think about himself, what it means that he's gone his whole life without knowing that he had a thing for piercings, what it means if it's not the piercings and it's just Taemin, what it means if he suddenly starts lusting over the boy next door.

This lasts for about two more days until he gets tired of it and decides to just do something about it.

So the next time he catches Taemin about to climb out of his window a little bit after midnight, he waves frantically to get his attention. Taemin stops, looks at him, smiles, waves back. Jonghyun beckons towards him, trying to communicate that he wants him to come over without shouting. Taemin points at himself then over up at Jonghyun, tilting his head; Jonghyun nods eagerly, beckoning again. Without a moment of hesitation this time, Taemin nods and holds up one finger.

He climbs up his building, and then instead of disappearing away from Jonghyun, he walks along the edge. Jonghyun leans a little bit out of his window to watch him all the way down to where the parallel lines of their apartment buildings turn into a U for him to cross, until he gets too close to Jonghyun's side to see anymore. Then, a minute later, there's a crunch of shoe against brick outside his window. He moves his tealight candle out of the way and Taemin slips into his room feet first.

"Hey," he says. "What's up? Can I smell?"

A finger with chipped black nail polish touches next to Jonghyun's tiny candle. He has studs on the backs of his wrists too. Jonghyun lets him smell with a warning to be careful not to spill it, and then tries to figure out a way to say what he wants to say tactfully. He didn't think this part through. It's not really his style to come up with detailed plans, just to try things out and see if they work. Finally, after a bunch of starts and stops, half asked questions, an exasperated sigh, he just says, "do you want to make out?"

And in the silence after the question, in the dim light of his desk lamp, Taemin's tongue wets his lips.

"Sure," he says.

Nice.

Sure turns into Taemin in Jonghyun's lap, turns into Jonghyun gliding his thumb over the studs under Taemin's lip, turns into Taemin cupping his face and pressing their mouths together. Kissing turns into Jonghyun's hands sliding up under his shirt, turns into Taemin groaning the hottest noise Jonghyun has ever heard into his mouth, turns into him standing with his sweater half way over his head frantically whispering to Taemin that his bed is too squeaky and his family is trying to sleep.

He takes Taemin to the floor, sits on his hips and grinds down while Taemin fumbles with his own belt buckle, hands bumping Jonghyun's cock through his pajama pants. Jonghyun hadn't meant for this to happen, wasn't planning on fucking Taemin, but he doesn't want to stop.Taemin doesn't either, says god no when Jonghyun asks and that's enough of a reason to Jonghyun to keep going. He's pushing Taemin's shirt up while Taemin is trying to reach up onto his bed for a pillow, and it's rushed and it's messy, but Jonghyun discovers that Taemin not only has studs along the V of his but also one over his belly button, bars through his nipples, and, best of all, when he pulls Taemin's pants down, four of us small silver balls like an X around the head of his cock.

Lube from his desk, three fingers deep into his own ass, thumb tracing over every piercing on Taemin's hips, so hard it hurts, almost delirious with want, Jonghyun barely hears Taemin when he says, "I've always thought you were cute."

The piercings in his collar bones glint in the light, his skin glistens with summer sweat, the sharp angle of his jawline, the shadow of his adam's apple bobbing in his throat, the raw edge on his voice as he says, "I've always liked you, ever since we were kids, I've always–I don't know when it turned into a crush, but I–god that feels so good. Oh my fucking god." Halfway down Taemin's cock, Taemin grabs Jonghyun's hips and pulls him down all the way, knocks the breath from his lungs. "Jonghyun," he says, "more."

Jonghyun gives him more until he can't anymore, until his thighs are burning and his arms are trembling. Taemin removes the effort for him by turning them around until he's on his back. Taemin fucks him like that, tries to kiss him more but quickly gives up and buries his face in Jonghyun's neck instead. With "you're perfect, you're perfect, you're so fucking perfect, " breathed under his ear, Jonghyun hooks his leg around Taemin's back, pulls him in harder, faster, whispers his own pleads back, begs Taemin to bite him, bite his neck.

Taemin bites him, hard, and that's how he comes, body frozen underneath him until he goes all the way limp, only barely registering in some faraway part of his brain Taemin's choked breaths and the warmth pooling inside of him. He's weak, hazy, loopy, giggling, and Taemin's gentle hands are on him again, picking him up, putting him on his knees, and Jonghyun is glad to obey, glad to do whatever the fuck when he's this blissed-out.

Quiet curses as hands smooth over his back, the softest "oh, wow," whispered as fingers trace his constellations, and then the deepest groan as Taemin's tongue touches his skin. Jonghyun's eyes fly open, his voice rises three octaves, he slaps both hands over his mouth to stifle the noises he's making, noises he’s never made before in his life. The moment that he realizes that Taemin has a tongue stud is the moment that everything goes white, and then the next moment, everything goes dark.

The next morning he wakes up alone, in his bed, pajama pants back on, candle burned all the way down to nothing, window closed. He's not angry, or hurt, but he is a little grumpy all day long until he walks up to the entrance of the apartment complex after work and Taemin is sitting on one of the big potted plants outside the door.

He stands up when Jonghyun gets close to him, presses a large jar candle of the scent from last night into his hands, and, blinking a mile a minute, blurts out, "hey, I just wanted to say that I'm sorry for last night when I told you I was in love with you and then fucked you and then panicked and left," to which Jonghyun, baffled, wracking his memory, replies, "did you tell me you're in love with me?"

Which kicks Taemin's blinking into overdrive, starts up a long, stammering babble that Jonghyun can confidently say he understands about 20% of. After a minute he realizes that Taemin isn't going to stop, so he interrupts him by asking, "Taemin, do you want to go on a date?"

A few days later, they share a mountain of fries on an outside table at some burger joint. Taemin, embarrassed, reading notes from his phone, admits that he's had a crush on Jonghyun for what feels like forever but was always too shy and infatuated to make a move. Jonghyun, embarrassed, scratching the back of his head, admits that he just got suddenly horny for the piercings one day and was a little too impulsive in making his move. Both of them, laughing, agree that it would probably be nice to work towards a middle ground together.

And it is.

#jonghyun #taemin #jongtae #fluff #nc17 #oneshot #this is equal parts dbsk love line and also Justin McElroy talking about geocaching #and also me making myself blush thinking about Taemin with all of those piercings #I started a sequel but I'm never going to get around to finishing it lamo but that's what Taemin is doing whenever he sneaks out he's #geocaching #sometimes he's doing cool skater boy stuff and the drugs but mostly it's geocaching #accidentally gave myself a new writing style with this one #Slow Burn but it's fast forwarded and also from the POV of the one that isn't in love the entire time #i don't remember what i was trying to do #I was trying to get past the childhood stuff quickly but then I kind of just carried that throughout the entire thing #and i really like it #ydw

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rabbithub · 3 years

Text

Haunted Painting!AU: Day 3

(In this episode of Haunted Paintings and How to Survive Them: There are fucking animals everywhere-

Also this is segregated from Death Palette's three lives rule, so the artist can take a bit more burnout. (we hope.))

You don't speak for a moment. You half expected to probably be crucified upside down at calling the subject of the painting 'Diavolo', but he seemed to take to it well. "You are not a sociable person." He says, grinning with amusement.

"...I haven't been for a while." You point out, refraining from snapping. "Long story."

"If you are unable to keep a acceptable conversation, then perhaps painting me a companion will suffice." 'Diavolo' answers back. "Preferably one similar in color to my waistcoat."

An animal with black fur. Seems pretty easy enough. You feel your phone vibrate, but you are more focused on finding that cat. You find it staring up the tree, and sketch it before it runs off. You also notice a bird in the tree, and sketch that as well.

As you walk around, you notice a door that your never seen before. You open it to be met face to face with a horse. 'Of course.' you tell yourself. 'There would be a horse here. Nothing makes goddamn sense in this place.' You sketch the horse, and notice a empty birdcage farther along the room. "Sorry, big guy- just gonna-" You scoot past the horse to sketch the birdcage, then scoot out of the room. 'Well, I know what I'm not painting.' You tell yourself as your the door. 'How the hell would a horse fit inside a room?!'

You sigh, but see a rabbit sleeping in a tree and a dog waiting below it. You quickly sketch those in as well. You finally check your phone.

[Buyer][Day 3]

'Look, I might have not be a good artist, but your attitude is just as bad! So what if that dog started biting you?! I had nothing to do with it!'

'Geez, you even got mad when I painted a birdcage before a bird!'

'Fuck- my chest... I still remember my first cat... Maybe...'

[Owner][Day 3]

'So, the animals move within the painting! I can use this to get the dove into the birdcage!'

[Buyer][Day 3]

'I tried with the dog again, but it ate the rabbit I painted! I'm sorry, tough guy... I didn't think it would hurt the rabbit-'

'Hang on- if you spare me, I'll introduce you to someone- they're going through a lot right now and tend to be gloomy, but they have a small following and know their stuff! They'll paint you any way you like! Just let me go, pleas'

[Researcher][Day 3]

'While the painting's true title is unknown, it has the common title of "The Noble with the Black Rose". There are many paintings that use the same model, and were painted in the first half of the twentieth century- so a common theory is that they were painted by a collective of artists in the same time period, and well known portraitists as well, meaning they were commissioned fairly well by a wealthy patron.'

'Many of these portraits exist in modern days, and there are art collectors dedicated to completing this series. I have visited such a collector with similar portraits; matching all the features of this mysterious young man down to the colors of his clothing. However, the identity of the young man is still unknown.'

"Note to self: when I get back home unscathed, check if she's alive, take her out to drinks, and then punch her dead in the face." You tell yourself, regarding your possibly late dealer friend. You also notice a dog sitting by you and you quickly sketch it.

'He doesn't like dogs, if I remember what she mumbled about, and no way in hell I'm painting a horse in that room.' You muse, stepping to the canvas. "Be patient with me today." You say, keeping your tone even. "I can assure you're not getting a dog or a goddamn horse."

'Diavolo' cocks his head at the horse quip, but ignores it. Your soul alights your brush, and you paint a black bird- however, it turns white. You stared at the canvas, both worried and confused. "It turned white again?" 'Diavolo' asks, perplexed.

'While I want to paint the cat, it will eat the... dove?' You muse. 'I'll paint the birdcage first.' Your soul turns a gold color, and you paint a birdcage in the corner of the room. "...A cage?" He asks again, this time seemingly seeing what you were doing.

"Trust me." You say, your body trembling as your soul burns black. You paint a regal looking black cat, and you watch the dove fly into the birdcage, with the cage door closing behind it. The cat looked unimpressed at this. You lean against canvas, tired.

"...You look tired." 'Diavolo' notes, a faint tone of concern in his voice.

"... I'm- I'm okay." You answer, pulling yourself up. You manage to paint a black rabbit on his lap. It promptly falls asleep, tooth-purring as it did so.

"It's a bit large, but I'll overlook that." 'Diavolo' answers, looking at it. The cat ignores the sleeping rabbit, fortunately. You sigh, tired. "I'll at least have some company to pass the time."

"....I'- It's still raining." You note, trembling.

"It must be your gloomy nature bringing it." 'Diavolo' sighs. "...Replace the cover. You need to rest. You're about to keel over." You silently obey, stumbling into your room. You flop onto the bed, falling asleep.

"Oh! These are beautiful." Your sister says, her eyes bright.

"I've been practicing with animal portraits lately." You say, proud. "How are you feeling?"

"Pretty great- they'll send me home tomorrow at the earliest." Your sister answers. "Although, I really wish he wouldn't have...." You realize who she was talking about.

"I talked to security about that." You say. "They'll keep an eye out for him, and make sure he doesn't come in anymore. He won't hurt you anymore."

"Thank you." Your sister says, smiling. "You really look after me, and I'm really grateful for it."

You wake up to your phone buzzing and the sound of rain and thunder. You idly look over the messages on your phone.

[Researcher][Day 3]

'Now the question remains, why is this piece alone cursed? None of the other paintings of 'The Noble with the Black Rose' have this curse- so it must have to do with the painter of this piece.'

'Despite it bearing no signature, I was able to gain some information from the gallery's owner, a sculptor, and the painter's landlord. Ah- it must be +$?8282)+@+... She's been long passed away. It's been guessed the landlord was the first victim.'

'A theory could be that something dreadful happened between the model and the painter, this being the last painting in a series. The boy disappeared from history, as no one knows of him. His enmity must have entered the painting and cursed it. After that, he proceeded to ki...'

You stand up, opening the door. You uncover the painting, noticing 'Diavolo' lying in a bed. "...am I disturbing you?"

"No." 'Diavolo' answers, speaking softly. "The animals you painted vanished. Would you disappear as well?"

"I hope not." You answer. "I'll finish you first, then I'll go home. Where would you be if I did that?"

"A fair point." 'Diavolo' chuckles. "I was thinking- if we were to play a game, would you indulge a final chance for yourself?"

"...a game?" You expected something like that. "I guess if I lose, I die."

"However, if you manage to win by some fluke, I'll let you use those steps." 'Diavolo' points to a set of disordered steps. "...if you win, of course."

#jjba diavolo #jjba part 5 #jjba #Diavolo #death Palette #matsuro palette #haunted painting!au

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roxybefab · 4 years

Text

Half Dead

Art belongs to @forgivemeimmafloof

Thank you for the request, @florindaxx , I really enjoyed writing this :3

You were horrified of Sans the Skeleton.

And it was understandable, considering the first thing he tried to do when you met him was to chop your head off your shoulders.

You were so sure you were going to die that day, since a goat lady and a flower both attempted to murder you. And then a tall, broad and scary skeleton with a crack in his skull and sharp canines the size of your fingers was attempting it as well.

You had every right to be terrified.

That same day, you had ran away from Sans and hid behind a snow poff, whole body wrapped around yourself as you attempted to warm yourself.

When another skeleton, as tall as the first but thin and silly looking, found your trembling form.

And when he saw you, you started to cry. Begging him to not kill you and telling him that you didn’t want to die.

He didn’t kill you and asked to be your friend, which you complied to. He said his name was Papyrus and that Sans was his brother. He said that he wouldn’t let Sans hurt you.

Then he noticed your pale skin and blue lips and asked if you were okay. And then you passed out on him

When you awoke, you realized you were on a couch and had in front of a fireplace. And next to you was Papyrus, placing a third blanket on your small human body. You immediately thanked the skeleton and searched your bag that had been on you the whole time, and had found a full box of granola bars. And gave him four, which had left him excited and happy. Then the door had burst open and in lumbered Sans the Skeleton. The moment his red pupil had seen you, he had let out a loud roar and attempted, once again, to use his axe to cut your head off.

Papyrus had stopped him immediately, exclaiming that you had food and that he should try the granola bars.

Which left the both of them happy once they had one and realized just how good it was to have actual food again.

Sans almost immediately saw you differently and became obsessed with you, watching as you interacted with his brother and how you always have them food when they wanted some.

Your bag had an endless supply of snacks and candy.

It was another day of you living in the skelebros home with them. And you and Sans had been getting along for a while now. Now that you think about it, ever since he started to warm up to you, you have been leaving little extra snacks in front of his door in hopes of him understanding that you cared for him. And it seemed he understood because he actually treated you like an equal individual most of the time.

He kinda reminds me of a bear or a big dog.. you thought, smiling at the thought. He did occasionally act like one, chewing on many things like his pillow or this piece of wood that he found outside. You wondered what it was like to have the urge to bite things most of the time but discarded that idea almost immediately.

Sans was huge, honestly, and most of the time you would imagine what a hug would be like.

Not to mention his hands fully covered yours whenever you handed something to him.

And today, you were planning on giving him something better. In your backpack, you happened to have a bottle of ketchup which made you all giddy because he loves the stuff. Knowing it was a big deal to share food with another, you were hoping he’d finally warm up to you 100% and that you’d be able to be on friendly conditions afterwards. So you went off in search of him, checking his room and the living room.

Then you went to his brother’s room.

You were so excited to see the happy look on his face when you gave it to him. You were so sure that he’d stopped thinking about killing you and you were pretty fucking positive that he’d care for you.

Upon arriving at his door, you raised a hand to knock, but heard voices on the other side. Papyrus’ and Sans’ to be precise. Now, it wasn’t abnormal for them to be speaking together, they were siblings after all, but the fact that they were speaking in hushed whispers made you curious.

Papyrus was never quiet.

Sans voice slowly caught your ears as you pressed your head against the door, listening to their conversation.

“paps.. bro..”

“Admit it, Sans, you like her!”

“no, i don’t.”

“Admit it!”

“no.”

“Admit it, Sans!”

“i want to kill her, paps. that’s the only reason i’ve been getting closer to her.”

Silence.

You heart paused it’s beating and you felt your arms start to tremble. Your (e/c) eyes watered and your throat clenched up.

A quiet whimper left your lips and you suddenly felt the same way as you had felt when you first arrived in the Underground. Scared, nervous, and untrusting. And then it hit you hard, the shock wearing off as you realized something.

Sans wanted to kill you.

He was simply tricking you.

You couldn’t breathe anymore at this point, feeling as if someone had punched you in the gut and knocked all the breath out of you. Once everything finally clicked in your head, you dropped the ketchup bottle with a quiet ‘THUD’ and shakily turned, a loud sob leaving your lips before sprinting down the hall and down the stairs and out the door. Forgetting your coat and bag, you heard muffled cursing as you sprinted through Snowdin.

He was just using me! You thought, remembering all the sweet things he’d do like getting you little gifts or simply carrying you to bed at night.

Or that time he told you what had happened that gave him the huge injury in his skull.

God, he had even cried when he explained what had happened! You had thought he trusted you already! But he was simply saying it to get you to trust him more.

Out of nowhere, you felt your soul being pulled out of you and turned to see Lesser Dog glaring at you.

You didn’t want to kill anyone.

Oh no.. you thought as he launched an attack at you.

.....

....

...

“i seriously messed up..” Sans muttered, pacing back and forth in his room as he looked out the window.

she should be back by now..

It’s been a day since he last saw you and he was actually beginning to worry.

Why did he say that? He obviously didn’t mean it, he had just blurted it out!

Why did you have to be looking for him at the exact same moment that his brother was trying to get him to admit his love for the you? Why couldn’t he just agree and let his brother be happy and keep you happy as well?

“hey, pap, i’m goin’ out..” he called out, hearing nothing but silence.

Oh yeah.. Papyrus was out looking for you too. Sighing, the huge skeleton slowly went out in search of you, remembering what had happened.

“paps.. bro..” he muttered his embarrassment clear as he looked away from his brother. His single red pupil darted to the door and back to his brother as Papyrus gave him a determined look.

“Admit it, Sans, you like her!” The younger yet taller skeleton was actually whispering. Something that really confused Sans cause he was rarely ever quiet.

“no, i don’t.” Sans’ face was glowing a deep red as he looked away from his smirking brother. He had no idea why he couldn’t just admit it. Papyrus would leave him alone and he may have a chance to be with you.

But they both were so damn stubborn.

“Admit it!”

He was feeling irritation crawling on his back at this point.

“no.”

And he knew he was going to say something to disappoint Papyrus.

“Admit it, Sans!”

“i want to kill her, paps. that’s the only reason i’ve been getting closer to her.” His face was bright red, embarrassment clear on his face as he let himself blurt it out.

Oh, how he regretted it so much.

That’s when the other skeleton had gone quiet. He had no idea why he said something like that but it didn’t matter because seconds later, he heard a whimper coming from the other side of the door.

Sans froze like a deer in headlights, his only pupil shrinking into a pinprick as he realized who was on the other side of the door.

There was a quiet ‘THUD’ and then a loud sob, followed by the sounds of footsteps running away.

Many curses left his ‘mouth’ as he began to walk towards the door before an arm stopped him.

“I’ll look for her, Sans.” Papyrus said, looking at his brother with a sad look before walking out of the room.

He felt like an idiot, knowing that a defenseless and terrified human was most likely on the verge of being killed. He was scared that you were already dead.

He had to find you.

.....

....

...

It was cold, too cold for you.

You were full on trembling and had managed to escape Lesser Dog and a few others. Everyone wanted you dead, it was no secret. The fact that your body was cold made you slower, however, and led to you getting hit easily.

But despite everything, you were thinking about Papyrus. He was so sweet and silly and cared about you. He was actually the only good thing down here. He didn’t try to eat you or kill you.

Then you realized something and the fear came hurtling back at you; you currently only had 1 HP.

You were full on terrified now, the thought of being killed making you paranoid that someone was following you.

Before your soul was pulled out of your body..

“hey, kiddo..”

No.. The person who wants to kill me for good had to be him..

Slowly, you turned to the bear-like skeleton, trembling and cowering before him.

Sans felt a pang of guilt hit him where his heart should be, his only pupil widening at the sight of your body.

Cuts and blood covered your arms, your hair was disheveled and your lips were blue.

He was sure that that wasn’t normal for humans.

“(y/n).. listen to me.” He whispered, stepping closer to you.

You flinched, eyes wide as he kept walking closer to you. But you obeyed, waiting to hear him out.

“I-I.. I heard that you wanted to kill me..” you confessed, eyes looking away from him before your gaze met his. He was staring down at you with a sad look, transparent red tears forming in his eyes as he gently lifted a hand to cup your cheek.

He hated seeing you like this, especially after how much you had improved since he had met you.

His sharp phalanges were unnaturally warm and soft, claws barely grazing your skin as he looked down at you. He could tell you were scared of what he was planning on doing but he knew what to do to make you relax.

“i.. i won’t hurt you.. i don’t know why i said that.. i didn’t mean it..” he whispered to you, his other hand gently gripping your waist and guiding you closer to him. Slowly, you settled into his comfortable grasp and lay your head against his chest, feeling a bit safer. A hand ran through your hair and seconds later you felt yourself being picked up.

He carried you all the way back to his and Papyrus’ home, making sure to keep you hidden in his arms. He also made sure that his huge hoodie managed to cover your body in hopes of you warming up a bit.

When he noticed that your lips weren’t that blue color anymore, he relaxed a bit as well.

Papyrus was so damn happy to see you safe and alive. And he immediately gave you a hug, not letting you go for hours.

Currently, he was off in search of a gift for you and you were left with Sans, who had insisted that he healed you.

Your HP was full and you were busy snuggling up to the giant bear.

“so..” His voice got your attention quickly and you looked up at him, “you heard paps trying to get me to admit something.. right?”

Your response is a nod, which makes him sigh before he gently sits up and makes you turn to look at him.

“well, he wanted me to admit that i liked you. as more than friends.” He sighs as you stare at him, red creeping up to his face as he continues talking, “and honestly.. he has a point. as you know, at first i was tricking you. but i completely forgot about it after i told you about the incident. and i.. i actually do.. like you that way.” He managed to choke out, face completely red at this point as he looked down at you.

A wide smile formed on your face before you sprung up and wrapped your arms around him, quietly squealing.

He was confused to say the least.

“I like you, too, dum dum! I made it so obvious!” You exclaimed, calming down and sitting back down. Your smile was still on your face and you noticed him starting to smile as well.

“you.. you like m-me? are you.. are you sure?” He managed out, watching you nod giddily.

“Yes! You’re adorable and sweet and I don’t think I’ve met anyone like you, Sans!” You exclaimed, just as he visibly relaxed.

He chuckled as you hugged his arm and he decided something at that moment.

His phalanges gently gripped your chin and tilted your head up to look at him, his red pupil wide and you managed to see it flickering to a heart before back to normal.

And slowly, he began to lean in, giving you enough time to move away if you didn’t feel comfortable but why would you? Your heart beat picked up it’s speed and your face flushed a bit as he paused centimeters away from your lips. He looked troubled and you knew why.

Chuckling, you moved forward and your lips met his teeth. His teeth felt strange against your lips, they were soft and warm but also hard at the same time.

His phalanges lowered and gripped your waist, your arms slowly wrapping around his neck as it got a bit more passionate.

Seconds later, the door burst open and you guys pulled away.

“ABOUT TIME!” Papyrus said and walked towards you with his gift.

A giggle left your lips at Sans’ red face and you slowly leaned up and picked his teeth.

You might love him, now that you think about it.

Other Masterlist

#sans x reader #Horror Sans x reader #Horrortale Sans x reader #Horrortale Sans #horrortale sans #Horror Sans #Horrortale

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