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clanwarrior-tumbly · 3 months ago

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Ooo you’re doing Pressure!!

May I request an artist reader who, throughout the journey found some paper, pencil and made a little makeshift sketchbook and when later bought Sebastian’s document decided to try and draw him? Like maybe both when human and current (and maybe the monsters)?

Perhaps he saw them sketching, got curious and decided to look through it when reader left it somewhere or just straight up snatched it and held it out of their reach and sees those sketches of him. Could be hurt/comfort or angst/fluff.

Of course you’re free to change any of the details but please keep it platonic TwT

Aw love this idea! And it works considering all the paper and notebooks in the drawers of the blacksite.

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

"Great, [y/n]. One moment, you're doing some harmless graffiti on a brick wall nobody cares about. And the next, you're risking your life for a stupid crystal in hopes you'll get a federal pardon.."

Sighing, you held onto the overhead handles within the sleek black submarine, feeling it shake and rumble as it breached the water's surface. And after hearing the chime, the door hissed and opened up, the platform extending out onto the dock of a place already familiar to you: Hadal Blacksite.

'No place like home..' As you stepped out of the submarine, you could hear HQ over the PDA system informing you of your objective in reaching the crystal and collecting any "loose assets" you find along the way...

As if you needed any reminders of what you were doing here.

Immediately, you unlocked the first door with the keycard and began your journey to room 100. Along the way, you found a good handful of research data. Nothing too special aside from folders, USB drives, and a couple blue DNA vials.

Then after narrowly dodging the Angler in one area and avoiding Eyefestation's gaze in the next, you reached a room requiring yet another keycard to exit. You checked the nearby office cubicle, finding it in the first drawer you opened.

But that isn't what made your eyes light up. Rather, it's what was right next to the card that did:

A brand new pencil to go with the sketchbook you've been carrying with you.

Because you weren't given the luxury of doodling while sitting in jail for over 90 days, you felt your creativity flames being snuffed out, leaving you itching to draw something again.

Before all of this, you had a decent following on social media with your art skills, and you could imagine that they're worried sick over your sudden absence. But you hoped that, if you survive and succeed in this mission, you'll be able to come back and reassure them that you're very much alive.

And perhaps show them what Urbanshade has been hiding from the public...that is to say the sea monsters that have taken up residence in the Blacksite since its lockdown, freely roaming and haunting nearly every room you step into.

With the makeshift sketchbook you had (and somehow kept even after death), you've filled its pages with simple and detailed sketches of each creature you encountered.

But you doubt that they would let you leave with physical evidence of entities nobody else in the world should know about...unless you somehow convinced the guards that they were "original characters" that so-happened to look like them, but you had a feeling that excuse wouldn't fly.

Regardless, they've given you tons of artistic inspiration, despite your many close-calls with them in pursuit of studying their features from afar.

Thanks to the files Sebastian Solace has shown you, you've learned how to safely observe the Angler from a distance and better remember their details. They were merely a grotesque face surrounded by smoke, so you didn't have to worry about drawing any limbs or tails (assuming they had those).

You encountered their variants so many times that you could recall the little things that made each them unique--like how Pinkie had four pupils, how Blitz was missing pupils in one socket completely, how Froger was..well..a big frog with lots of needle-shaped teeth, and Chainsmoker was a sluggish blobfish through all that smoke.

Making eye contact with Pandemonium was a death sentence..as you've already learned after trying (and failing) to safely observe him through a glass window. So you draw him as you see him in his file.

The Squiddles' "intimidating" faces were scary in the dark when you least expected them, but they served as amazing inspiration. You even had a page full of what faces you'd think they make up to frighten others. It's too bad you couldn't show them, however, as that required you getting in their personal space.

Eyefestation, Good People, and the Wall Dwellers were quite..risky to observe, as they had ways of quickly and painfully sending you back to square one if you weren't careful. Even so, you made some pretty damn good sketches..and you wish you could show them off to them, too, especially to the shark who'd probably appreciate a human's drawing of herself.

Even the DiVine, who were always frozen in poses for some reason, joined your ever-growing list of muses. The oxygen gardens were a nice place for you to rest and appreciate the flora for a few moments--before an Angler came along, of course.

Then there was Sebastian.

While he was fully aware of your artistic passions, in the beginning he seemed a bit annoyed whenever you came into his shop just to sketch.....or if you took an unusually long time to reach him. He just assumes you've stopped to "doodle" and wonders if you really care about getting out of this place alive.

He'd remind you that HQ could get suspicious if you're off their radar for too long, but you've stayed in his shop for 10-20 minutes at a time and not once did your diving gear beep. So you reassured him not to fret.

It was kinda sweet that he worried over you, an expendable, although maybe that's because you actually treat him with decency..and don't take his snarky comments to heart whenever you died.

Aside from the occasional eyeroll whenever you brought out your sketchbook, he did inquire about some of the things you've drawn, and you'd show him, bearing a little pride in your work.

All you'd get in response was a "neato" or "wowie, that's how you see them?" and nothing more.

It wasn't insulting, so...you'll take that.

Obviously he was more concerned about how much research data you were willing to fork over in exchange for supplies, and how far that equipment will carry you before your next demise. So you'd eventually close the book and barter with him for whatever wares were on his tail.

Unbeknownst to him, you've actually started sketching him as of late. Now that you've met him dozens of times, it was easy for you to recall his features without needing to stare at him for reference every five seconds.

That would not only be rude, but very creepy.

Then one day, you showed up to Sebastian's shop with enough data to be able to afford his document, which described him as Z-13, "The Saboteur" who the company wanted "dead on sight" if he was spotted or trying to escape.

When you had time to read the file on your own, you learned some..pretty shocking things about how he caused the lockdown, went through torturous experiments, and was falsely accused of nine murders and was proven innocent far too late.

The most upsetting part was that he was never informed of this.

He learned that after presumably stealing his own document.

It made you feel sick to your stomach, knowing he's the reason you're being terrorized by those beasts, but you couldn't find it in your heart to be angry at him.

If anything you were angry at Urbanshade for their "guilty until proven innocent" system--or in his case, being proven innocent didn't matter.

His human mugshot was also included in the file, and even with the black censor bar covering his eyes, he still looked like quite a handsome fellow. You could make out some details, and ended up drawing him on a separate page, too, although part of you wishes you never started.

You doubt he would kill you or rip apart your book for drawing him, but considering how volatile and rude he could be at a moment's notice..you did your best to conceal the sketches when you visited his shop.

You didn't want him to be offended or reminded of his past..and make him resent the one person who he almost considered a genuine friend.

Unfortunately, you'd soon come to realize that your actions were only heightening his suspicions.

And that it was going to come to a head next time you entered his shop.

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

"Okay, I'm going to bite...what're you really hiding in that little book?"

"Pardon?" Pausing mid-sketch, you looked up at Sebastian, wondering why he appeared so disgruntled. "I'm..uh...just doodling like I always-"

"No, don't give me that "like always" crap." He huffed, flicking the end of his tail as he crossed his two arms over his chest, staring down at you. "Last time, you couldn't stop showing me a stupid face you'd think one of those S-Qs would make...and now you won't even let me have a sneak peak of your next "masterpiece"." He spat the last word, voice dripping with disdain. "Are you really drawing something...or are you secretly writing intel to give to Urbanshade?"

"...wha.." You blinked in disbelief, wondering where he'd get that assumption from. "Why would I ever do that?"

"Oh I dunno, maaaybe because you have access to my file and know my location? I bet you're gonna sell me out to those scumbags once you reach the crystal." He gnashed his teeth. "Did they say you'd get extra cash for leaving tips on my whereabouts, huh?"

"Sebastian, there's no reason for this hostility. I'm not giving any intel to anyone-"

"Then you wouldn't mind me taking a look at this, would you? Yyyyyyoink!" His third arm was quick to snatch your sketchbook away, holding it out of your reach as you jumped up in panic.

You were already dreading his reaction.

This could very well be the end for you.

"Please give that back! You'll tear it!"

"You look frightened. So maybe I should, considering you're writing secrets about.....about...." But as Sebastian finally looked at the page, all he saw were sketches of his current self, and you began to see a shift in his expression.

It went from pure anger, to surprise and confusion, and then to....something unreadable.

"These are...all of me?" His voice became quieter as he flipped the page, only for his breath to hitch upon finding the drawings of his human form.

And for once, he was completely speechless.

The details were immaculate, everything from his hair style to the scar he used to have across his face--given to him from an angry cellmate who thought he really did kill those people and tried giving him a "taste of his own medicine".

But the way you made him look was...incredible.

That's him.

That's really him.

The man--the human--he was before...

Before...

"Yes." Your face was burning with embarrassment, and your heart was pounding with fear of both death and ridicule, now knowing that your fate laid in his hands now. "I-I'm sorry. I should've asked for your permission and I know the details aren't perfect but you didn't let me........huh?"

Ceasing your ramblings, you noticed the tears welling in his eyes, and you were stunned. Then his shaking hands closed the sketchbook and returned it to you. "Um..are you okay? I'm really sorry if-"

"I...a-almost forgot what I looked like before all of this.." He raised a claw to wipe at his watery eyes, sniffling. "They're...good drawings, friend. I'm sorry..I...I-I didn't mean to..." His voice cracked, and he forced himself to stop, bringing his hands to his face. "Why am I crying over something like..t-this..?"

He hated looking so weak in front of you, yet he couldn't help the tears that kept slipping down his cheeks. A certain sadness was weighing heavily on his heart, yet at the same time he felt...honored that you wanted to draw him, putting your heart and soul into every sketch--with him getting the most effort.

You didn't overexaggerate him as the hideous beast he and everyone else was convinced he was, but just him as, well, himself. His smiles when he realizes it's you coming through the vent again, his cheeky grins when you buy up all his supplies, and even the one time he pouted when you died to Pandemonium because you risked it all trying to draw the moldy fish-creature.

The human ones, as you could tell from the way he broke down, especially hit home for him. Just from a mugshot alone, you were able to create a near-accurate depiction of him.

It made him wonder if you two have met before any of this happened.

Sebastian sniffled, struggling to stop the tears and expecting you to make fun of him as he finally uncovered his face. But instead he saw you standing there with your arms opened up. "I feel like you could use one of these. It's okay. I know you miss being human."

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

"C'mon, big guy. My arms are kinda hurting--oh!"

Without warning, he accepted your embrace and squeezed you tightly in his hold. Of course he was careful not to crush your diving tanks, and you smiled in appreciation and patted his back. "It's okay, it's alright..I got you. I didn't mean to make you cry."

He sniffled a few times, but otherwise said nothing and tried making sure you weren't supporting all of his upper body weight.

Curse his size. He wishes he could experience a normal hug again.

This one will do, though.

"I-It's...it's fine. Don't worry.." He finally spoke after a few moments, calming down. "As long as you don't tell anyone about this."

"I'll take it to my grave." You chuckled, letting go and stepping away so he could straighten his back out. While he did that, you gently tore a few pages from your book, to which he blinked in confusion.

"What are you doing with-?"

"Keep them." You insisted. "In case this sketchbook falls into a pit or gets waterlogged, I want you to hold onto these. Besides, I can tell you appreciate them a lot. So...consider it a gift."

"Why..thank you." A smile appeared on his face as he took the pages carefully. "Rest assured, they'll be safe and sound." He gazed at them both one more time, feeling a tug on his heart.

But it wasn't as heavy as before.

After neatly folding and stowing them away into his pockets, he saw you already sitting in one of the chairs, your sketchbook opened to a brand new blank page.

"Sooooooo what are you going to draw this time?" He tilted his head, ear fins twitching with curiosity.

"Hm...I did see a vision of a white glowing man a few rooms back. I think he was from...the Mindscape? There was a file talking about him and some floating gears and a white ball."

"Ohh yeah, he's an interesting guy. I'd love to see your interpretation of him." Now Sebastian was 100% invested, as he curled his tail around himself, resting his upper body on it so he could see your book better. "But y'know you won't be able to leave this place with sketches of-"

"I'm well aware of that...I could always change a few things and turn them into OCs."

"Hah. You should."

"Maybe I will." You snickered, grateful that you didn't have anything to fear.

At least somebody in the Blacksite appreciated your art.

#this one was fun to write <3 #clanask #anonymous #roblox x reader #roblox pressure x reader #pressure x reader #sebastian solace #sebastian solace x reader #hurt/comfort #artist reader #fluff/angst

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sanguineterrain · 7 months ago

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im begging you to write a part 2 of vigilante reader because the way you write??? the dynamic between reader and jason??? the sex tension???are chef kiss!!!

thanks very much! part 2 and I couldn't put off the reveal bc I'm just too impatient lol 🫶 but I might write another part post-reveal? maybe? cuz I'm growing attached to these two <3

jason todd x gn!vigilante!reader (nocturne). tw explosions, smoke inhalation, reader passes out, canon typical violence, identity reveal, asshole bruce. jason is in love? jason is in love.

read pt 1 here! | all fics are reblogged to @sanguinelibrary

****

"Go home."

"Bruce, I—"

Bruce looks at you, eyes sharp with fury and... something else. Something older.

The others know how to talk back. You still haven't gained the courage to sass The Batman.

"Go. Home. If you need an escort, I can call Superman."

You take a step back at his coldness.

"Bruce, I know I messed up, letting Hood escape but—"

"Yes, you did. You deliberately disobeyed an order. I told everybody to stand down. He could've killed you."

But he didn't, you don't say. He could've, but he chose not to.

He'd felt safe.

"I had it under control, honestly. He wasn't—it wasn't like the other encounters you've had with him. He wouldn't have hurt me."

That is the wrong thing to say. You realize that after the words leave your mouth and the muscles in Bruce's jaw jump.

"You can't be this naive. I know I wouldn't have chosen someone who's this naive," he says savagely. "You know Hood can't be trusted, and you're defending him to me. We've seen time and again he's rogue. He doesn't make sense and that's exactly why he's dangerous."

"But if you would just listen—"

"Enough," he snaps. "Enough. Go home. I'm suspending you for three weeks."

"Three w—I'm not even injured!" you cry.

"No, but you need the time. You're not thinking clearly. Go. I don't want to see you until next month."

You press your lips together before you say something truly foul. Something about Batman's habit of pushing people away. Something about dead Robins.

You don't let the tears fall until you leave the Cave. This is all Hood's fault. You know it would've been a different conversation if you'd managed to successfully capture him.

You'll take down the Red Hood if it's the last thing you do.

****

It takes you approximately two days to break your suspension.

In your defense, you meant to follow Bruce's orders. You would've stayed put and helped Barbara with research instead.

But not at the expense of civilian lives.

"All units to Canal and Riverview, 10-80. Standby. Do not enter the factory until given clearance from the Bomb Squad."

You turn off the police scanner and stuff it in your drawer. In Gotham, explosions usually come in multiples. If there's one, there's bound to be another. The police are generally inept when it comes to evacuating civilians. You know one of the other Bats are on their way, but you're the closest to the docks.

You glance at your suit. No. If you go as Nocturne, Batman might suspend you indefinitely.

You grab your gas mask and put on a black hoodie and a domino mask. You'll just have to make do.

The marina is blanketed in thick smoke. It makes your eyes water. But in the commotion it causes, you're able to slip past the barriers and help workers out of the factory. It's difficult because without the suit, people don't give you the same trust and respect. But you're anonymous, and that's all that matters.

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

You ignore the voice and keep hauling two elderly workers towards the exit. They're barely outside before you turn around, determined to clear every level of the factory.

You're yanked backward by a hand on your hoodie. You nearly lose your footing, but the hand is firm, dragging you towards the pier.

You're spun around and put face to face with a red helmet.

Oh, of all the fucking—

"Let go of me!" you shout, smacking his arm. Hood's grip tightens.

"I will as soon as you stop doing stupid shit. What were you thinking, coming here?"

You pause. Whoops. This isn't how a plain civilian would react to being apprehended by the Red Hood.

And that's definitely not how the Red Hood would react to getting swatted by a random civilian. Shit.

"I was, um, I was thinking I could help," you say haltingly. "P-please don't hurt me, Mr. Hood, I was—"

Hood sighs and lets you go, then tucks his gun into his holster.

"Cut the shit. I know you're Nocturne. I also know that you need some acting lessons because what the hell was that? Mr. Hood?"

A chill washes over you. "I don't know what you mean. Nocturne?"

Hood shakes his head. "I don't have time for this. The building's gonna collapse any second. Stay. Put."

He goes back toward the smoking entrance. Your eye twitches as you follow him.

"Last time I checked, you don't have that kind of authority, Hood."

He turns around and looms over you. "Don't I?"

Anyone else would back down. You might've a week ago. You should, after the tongue lashing Bruce gave you.

But there's no soot on Hood's helmet or vest. He doesn't smell sweet like gasoline or pungent like motor oil.

He was in the factory to help.

Something shifts. Batman is wrong. Batman is more wrong than he's ever been.

Because Hood's not the enemy here. Not anymore. Maybe not ever.

You push past Hood. "It'll be faster if we work together."

"Oh, absolutely not. You're not even in your suit."

"As per your request," you say, flashing a plastic smile. "You're welcome."

"Don't get cute with me, you—hey!"

You dart past him and go straight into the factory. Hood shouts your name, which makes you pause, just for a moment.

But revealed identity or not, you need to clear the building. So you pull on your mask and run faster.

Your worst fear is confirmed when you check the upper level: someone was missed in the evacuation. It's a worker, and she's unconscious.

You don't think about how explosions come in pairs in Gotham. Don't think about how long it'll take to get to the exit.

You take off your mask and slide it onto her face. The smoke burns your throat immediately, but you ignore it and lift her in a fireman carry, just as you were taught all those years ago by Robin. He's the one who taught you how to save people without relying on brute strength or height.

You hope he's alright, wherever he is. You hope he's not too upset seeing you rush into a burning building.

That's your last thought when you see the entrance. Your face is covered in sweat and grime. The heat from the fires is exhausting. You can feel your eyes beginning to close.

"There's something seriously wrong with you," a decoded voice says in your ear, and then the woman's weight is lifted from your shoulders.

Hood grabs your hand, the woman over his opposite shoulder, and you make it out just as the second explosion goes off. It knocks you forward.

Hood puts the woman down just in time to catch you. His arm is around your waist, the other hand cradling your head. His gloved thumb touches your mouth, and you feel his dawning realization as he finally sees your mask on the woman.

"Don't tell Ba'man," you slur.

"Jesus fuck—" Hood starts to drag you. You feel lightheaded. He's moving, and you wish he'd stop. "You don't take off your mask. You never take off your mask. We taught you that!"

"She was unconscious, J'y..."

Arms tighten around you. Everything goes dark.

****

You wake up to the smell of scrambling eggs.

For a moment, you just bask in the smell. It smells like Alfred's breakfast scramble. Bacon. Butter. Golden potatoes.

Then you wake up further and realize that you're not in the Manor. You're in your apartment.

So who's cooking?

You get up quietly, slipping out of your room. You pause in front of the full-length mirror.

Honestly, you've looked worse. Your hair needs a wash, and you're in the same clothes you went into the building with, which are now a little charred. But your face is clean of soot, and your throat hurts only a little.

The kitchen sink runs. You slowly creep out into the living room, keeping your breathing even and silent.

The mess of black hair, you recognize. Sort of. You might've mistaken him for Bruce if you didn't know that Bruce has a lifetime ban from kitchens all over the world.

He's too tall to be Dick. Too skilled in the kitchen to be Bruce. Too nice to be Bruce, too—you can't imagine Bruce Wayne making you eggs. Especially when you disobeyed his orders. Again.

The red helmet on the kitchen stool turns your blood to ice.

You grab the letter opener from a drawer and wait a few seconds to see if Hood's heard you. Then you throw the letter opener with near perfect aim at his exposed shoulder.

He catches it without turning.

Your heart skips a beat. Every time you think you might get the drop on him, Hood reminds you just how competent he really is.

A mix of fear, aggravation, and something you don't want to examine too closely swirls in your gut.

"Impressive," he says. "Dami been training you? Mama Al-Ghul spent a lot of time on his knife lessons."

"Why are you in my apartment?"

Hood sets the letter opener down on the counter and turns off the stove. Then he serves the breakfast scramble on two plates, then sprinkles chives over them.

This is the weirdest kidnapping ever.

He sighs, back still facing you.

"You can't tell anyone it's me," he says.

"You make a lot of demands for a guy who just used the last of my eggs."

Hood laughs. It sounds wet. It sounds like grief.

"God, I've missed ya, honeylove."

Your heart pounds. You try to find another weapon, anything. Hood doesn't give you the chance.

He turns around.

The first thing you see is the stark white streak of hair and the curls you once loved. The curls that were near unrecognizable in the casket.

You were right: Batman was wrong.

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #red hood x reader #red hood x you #jason todd fanfiction #red hood fanfiction #red hood imagine #batman fanfiction #dc fanfic

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theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction · 8 months ago

Text

Imagine telling Luffy about why you don’t like Shanks…

“Why are you always so upset with Shanks?” Luffy wondered.

You brushed the young boys damp curls and twirled a finger around each strand to define the shape.

“He and I used to travel the seas, you know? We fought sea beasts and all kinds of pirates together.”

Luffy leaned forward. “Really? Was it cool?”

“Very cool and dangerous.” You reminded him with a small hair ruffle to set him back on the chair properly. “We were caught in an ambush and I was injured. Shanks brought me home, promising that we’d set off again after I was healed.”

Luffy grew excited. Maybe if Shanks came for you, he could also be taken along for the journey.

“Are you healed? Do you know when he’ll take you?” He asked.

You frowned and replied rather bitterly. “I was healed up over four years ago.”

Shanks had the audacity to pay a visit these last few months and spend time with Luffy while pretending like nothing had happened. It infuriated you and Luffy clearly caught wind of it.

There was a knock at the door. Your eyes darted up to see Makino standing there with a smile for Luffy.

“The ship has made port.” She told the boy.

Luffy jumped off the seat and ran for the exit. “Sorry Y/n, I have to go!”

You sighed at his speed hoping that he’d be careful on his way to the docks.

Makino looked at you while you put the chair away. “Are you coming as well?” She asked and when you didn’t reply she continued. “He’s been asking for you.”

You glanced over your shoulder. “Tell him I-”

“I’m not telling him you drowned again. You’ll have to face him one way or another.” Makino said and then left to resume her duties at the bar.

Honestly, you’d rather not seek out the pirate who abandoned you. Let him have his fun. Yes, you couldn’t avoid him forever but you could reduce the hours in his presence.

And so that’s what you set out to do, you walked wherever the straw hat wasn’t. If he was at Party’s Bar, you were at home. If he was at the docks, you were by the furthest windmill.

You last saw the red-haired pirate downing a bottle of booze at the bar with his little curly haired shadow on the chair beside him. While they were busy, you decided to rearrange the furniture in your home finally able to tend to things that had been long neglected thanks to Luffy always running in and out of trouble.

Fixated on stacking books by the corner of the front room, you missed the soft padding of footsteps coming to a halt by the open door.

“I heard you ‘drowned’.” A voice said, sending chills down your spine. “Imagine my surprise when Luffy told me that you did his hair this morning.”

Shanks mused at you as he stood by the threshold of your door.

Damn, when did he leave the bar? You rolled your eyes and then turned around to place a blanket into a wooden drawer near to where he stood.

“Odd.” You hummed. “I thought you would have welcomed a lie? Aren’t you filled with them or is that only when they’re directed at me?”

Shanks stepped into the room and took your hand to stop you from walking to the next task. He knew exactly what you were referring to. For months you both had avoided the topic by the way you dodged him but this was finally the opening he needed to clear the air.

“I never lied. I fully intended to come back here in three months. But each danger I faced, every terror that sailed into our path and all I could see was the risk of losing you.”

You scoffed at him. Captain Shanks of the Red-haired Pirates was scared? You were surprised his nose hadn’t grown.

Not wanting to talk further, you attempted to leave the house entirely when the man who stole your heart caught you once more.

“Hey,” Shanks took the reins and guided you to the wall, gently bracing you against it. He was tired of the anger of the anger in your eyes, only wanting you to see him like you once did. His hands settled in their rightful place on your waist.

“There are very few things that I am afraid of - but from that list, the fear of losing you is at the very top.”

As you stared in his warm eyes, you were reminded of a saying he often said aboard calmer seas and private moments.

Shanks gazed back at your face, the one he was deprived of seeing each day. He brought one hand to rest against your chest and raised your own to sit above his own. He leaned forward and pressed his lips against yours in a delicate kiss before pulling away gently.

“I’m not a selfish man by nature.” He whispered. “But for your life and your love, I can be.”

~ More imagines here ~

#theladyofmanyfandoms #theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction #gif is not mine #shanks opla imagine #shanks x you #shanks imagine #shanks x reader #opla!shanks x reader #opla!shanks imagine #opla imagine #opla x reader #one piece live action imagine #one piece imagine #one piece x reader #akagami no shanks imagine

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genderless-naper · 2 months ago

Text

love that makes you sick

trafalgar law x gf!reader, established relationship

lowercase intended !

fluff, sfw, word count: 2.1k

an argument leaves law looking for you out in a blizzard where he might catch a cold

the white cast the snow left on the new found island made it one of the prettiest islands you’ve seen. the submarine was docked at the shore. everyone was busying themselves with tasks such as restocking inventory, buying food, cleaning up, and so on. everyone had to finish chores before they can explore the town and island, as per captains usual orders.

you were busy with your usual task of taking count of medical supplies. you were organizing the pill drawer when law walks into the room. you greeted him with a smile which he looked past on. you noticed the tattooed figured man was looking more tense than usual. this raised a concern for you, “is everything okay baby? you look more than usually stressed.”

he looks at you and holds his hand out, “i need the inventory sheet. you did the counts wrong last time.” this was the first he’s told you of this problem, “i did the counts wrong? no im sure didn’t. if they were wrong then why didn’t you say anything about it last time..?”

law takes the sheet, and response as he skims through what you’ve written down, “i didn’t notice i was out of gauze until shaichi decided it was a good idea to see how fast he can hit a knife between his fingers” law rubs his temples as he remembers the predicament.

you shook your head, “i’m certain i did them right! its not my fault the crew members decide to test their luck with playing with knives” you responded with a bit of attitude as you rolled you eyes. law tried his best to stay neutral. he picked up the job he decided you were unable to do. you wouldn’t sit around and be blatantly told you didnt know how to do something you’ve always been tasked with doing. you grab the sheet back and continue from where you left off.

you can feel his gaze piercing you as you try your best to hold your composure.

“y/n-ya i can do them myself. just give them to me.” he says in a more stern tone. you shook your head, “i refused to believe i messed up!”

“im not going to go back and forth with y-“

you interrupt law by shushing him. he looked at you in disbelief. he wasn’t expecting you to literally shush him like he was a child. in no world would law believe that he, as a captain, would be shushed at by his subordinate.

to ease the tension in the air you try talking about the new island. you asked questions to which you received no response. after your fourth question you were fed up with his lack of responses and turned back towards him.

this time he had a look of anger he tried (and failed) to hide. he passively made a remark, “maybe if you werent so hardheaded and actually listened sometimes i wouldnt have so many issues in the medical room.”

you were taken aback from his sudden statement, but refused to let him have the upper hand in the conversation, “maybe if you weren’t so prideful and actually communicated what you needed instead of expecting me to read your mind you wouldn’t be fussing so hard right now!”

law raised a brow. it wasnt unlike you to fire back remarks. he’d seen it with the crew members when you’d all have disagreements, but he’d never expected them to be aimed at him. with his irritation growing by the second he took back the sheet, “go help someone else. i need to be the one who does the jobs in the medical room so i can know theyre done correctly.”

you scoff, “done correctly?? fine then! im leaving and exploring at the island. have fun being cooped up by yourself!” you pushed past your boyfriend, and exited the room without looking back at him.

you put on your winter gear knowing it would be a little chilly out, and headed out to explore the unknown. you walked through the town and into the meadow. snow capped mountains and sheets of paper white snow with blades of grass peaking through were visible to the eye. you noticed snowflakes scatter the sky and they fell. soon after though there seemed to be an influx of snowflakes falling. the wind’s gusts were picking up as well. you admired the scenery unaware of a possible snow storm heading your way.

on the submarine law was busying himself with your tasks. he didn’t know what came over him when he spoke with you. maybe it was the built up stress, maybe it was having to police the crew mates from fighting, or maybe he was just cranky because he missed being with you. nonetheless he still pushed you away. he figured it was at least good for you to get a break. he made mental note to apologize to you once you were back.

he continued through the tasks while making minimal progress. with every mistake he made he remembered how he’d seen you do them routinely since you joined his crew. truth be told you probably did it better than him, but thats something he would never admit out loud. he decided to take a break and go out to see if the crew had finished their tasks.

some were still working on their chores, and some were no where to be seen. law knew it had been a while since you left so he asked the crew if you had come back yet. ikkaku shook her head and penguin replied, “y/n went left a few hours ago. wouldn’t speak to us. she seemed kinda mad i guess?”

at that moment shachi runs into the room, “did you guys seen the snow outside?! its like a blizzard! its so cool!”

law was taken aback, “a blizzard?? are you sure y/n is still out there? you didn’t see her come back at all?” worry slowly creeped up the captains chest. the thought of you being out in the snow storm alone tortured him. he didn’t want to think about the possibility of you getting sick or hurt.

shachi shook his head, “i couldn’t see anyone out there captain” the concern was too much for the tattooed man to handle anymore. he made sure alert the crew to be on watch for your arrival. he headed out into the snow fall with urgency. he only made one mistake: he left without any proper clothing or gear to protect him against the harsh weather. the only thought on his mind was to find you and make sure you were safe. being cold was the least of his worries.

he hastily traveled through town in search of you. he called out your name and looked everywhere. he was left standing in front a cafe with lights on and smoke escaping its chimney. a man on the inside saw law standing in the snow fall. he opened the door and called out for him, “what are you doing out in this storm?! get in here before it carries you away!”

law ignored the man and continued to look around in search of you. the man yelled out urging him to once again take cover inside the building. the tattooed man looks at the building once more just to find a glimpse of you through the window sitting at a table.

relief flooded him like a wave. he just couldn’t contain himself. he decided to shambles his way into the cafe. you jump at his sudden appearance, “oh baby you scared me! what are you doing out in the snow? uh.. why aren’t you wearing a jacket..?”

your boyfriend looked as cold as a brick of ice. he hadn’t notice the dangerous cold outside until he was hit with heat from the cafe that hugged him like a heated blanket. you urged him to sit down, and put your jacket over his shoulders. you put your gloves on him and placed your hot cocoa in front of him, “law you look like a mess..”

you ruffled snow off his hat and examined his face which was a shade of pink due to the harsh cold. especially the tips of his ears and nose. he held your hands tight in fear that you’d slip away from him again. he spoke so quiet that barely you could hear, “i’m really sorry y/n. i’m just glad you’re okay. i don’t know what i would have done with myself if you got hurt out there. i shouldn’t have made you leave like that…”

you squeezed his hands with a sigh, “i’m okay darling. you’re the one thats not okay. you’re bound catch a cold. it was so reckless of you to leave the submarine like it was 90 degrees. look, your nose is already running!”

you grabbed a napkin and quickly wiped your poor boyfriends nose. you couldn’t help but feel bad for his current state.

he pulled you onto his lap and hugged you tight. your body felt like a heater against his ice cold state. he buried his face into your neck for the added warmth. he stayed like this until the snow storm blew down.

you both made your way back to the polar tang. once inside law immediately pulls you towards your shared bedroom. the whole way back to the submarine he was a coughing sneezing mess. it wasn’t surprising to see he got a cold.

you urged your sick boyfriend into bed but he refused to without you. you huffed, “look who’s the hardheaded one that doesn’t listen now” you huffed as you referenced the original conversation that started this whole mess.

your boyfriend shook his head and held your hand, “i want you to be in bed with me at least..” he stared at the ground to avoid eye contact. his pink tipped ears poking through his black ruffled hair. it was unlike him to be so straightforward when talking to you about what he wanted. maybe the recent events gave him a change of heart.

nonetheless you guided him into bed and pulled the blanket up to cover him, “let me bring you some tea, okay baby? ill be right back” you tell him and you stroke his hair. the tattooed man looks away from embarrassment and tries to put on his cool act again, “i’m fine y/n. go help the others with chores”

you giggled at his attempt to recover his stoic facade, “my chore now is to take care of my idiot boyfriend who doesn’t think when stepping out into snow storms”

you lean down and press a soft kiss onto his lips. its the kind of kiss that leaves law yearning for more. it was the kind of kiss that could comfort the sickest person. your soft lips pressing against his repeats in his mind as you leave to bring him tea and medicine. you spend the rest of the night taking care of him and then being dragged back into bed to cuddle with him. you lost track of how many tissues you’d have to use for your sick boyfriend, but theres nothing you’d rather do than be the one to take care of him especially when he’s the one to take care for you.

not once does he loosen his arms which are wrapped around you. he refuses to let you slip away from him again. it was a mistake he would never do twice. he just avoided eye contact. you smiled at how vulnerable your boyfriend was able to be with you today. how his walls were as low as you’ve ever seen them be. you couldn’t help but feel so lucky to be loved by this man knowing no other person will experience law the way you get to experience him at that moment.

“hey baby..?” you spoke softly to him. he hums as he looks at you with a slightly tired expression. you cup his cheeks and lean in for another kiss; this time more passionate and deeper than before. law has a slight grip on your hips as he eases into your kiss. he never wants it to end. he pulls you closer, and as you try to separate from the kiss he just continues on by kissing down your jaw and to your neck. you giggle at his loving demeanor and stroke his hair. he nuzzles his head into your neck, and secures you to him to make sure you wont be able to slip away in the night. your warmth like sweet nectar to him.

#one piece #op #one piece x reader #onepiece imagines #trafalgar op #trafalgar d law x reader #trafalgar one piece #law fluff #law x you #trafalgardwaterlaw #trafalgar law x reader #one piece strawhats #law x reader #law x y/n #trafalgar law #law one piece #trafalgar d law x you

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untolduttering · 3 months ago

Text

Good Boy

Part two to this one, but can be read as a standalone

Summary: You find out about Sanji stealing your underwear and decide to confront him and do something fun about it.

Tags: female!reader x Sanji, nsfw, oral (female receiving), fingering, face grinding, grinding, small mention of blood

Word Count: 3.2k

You weren’t a complete idiot.

Sure, small garments such as socks did go missing. Underwear, too, could slip through the cracks. You didn’t really pay attention to your dirty laundry, but you sure did notice when a pair of underwear you had worn showed back up, clean, in your drawer. Especially when you hadn’t done any laundry.

And when it followed a routine? Put back carefully folded, the love put into the action almost radiating from the drawer?

You knew from the start, really. When Sanji would use that first day at a new island to stay with the ship. You were in a shop that overlooked the docks when you saw him and his overeager little self enter the women’s quarters, and leave with a heavily flushed face and a bounce in his step.

His idea worked quite well at first. If you hadn’t seen him sneaking in, you might’ve stayed blissfully ignorant for a little while longer. For him to pick the first day, when you were too excited to be on land to really pay much attention to the mundane routines, and the laundry day that typically followed after, was a good example of his strategic thinking.

If only he wasn’t a known pervert. If only he had any control over his desires. It seemed that once he started, he couldn’t stop, and couldn’t help to take more. The silly, horny boy. He really was so needy.

You didn’t mind, though. You’d become quite smitten with the cook in your time with the crew. You didn’t think he’d return any desire you’d had for him, until you realized that he’d stopped taking Nami’s and Robin’s underwear. Nami had been quite vocal with her complaints, and once you’d noticed that she’d stopped, you’d asked about it. And she confirmed, in her need to keep a sharp eye and rigid check of her underwear drawer, that they remained the same. Robin’s was a swift answer, amusement clearly there at Sanji’s behavior, but he had stopped rooting through her things as well.

So you let it continue, and sometimes even indulged in making it better for him. Every once in a while, you’d wear the same pair of underwear for two days. It wasn’t something you did often, as you preferred to be clean, and wearing a pair for so long wasn’t always all too pleasant, but you noticed that when you did that, the pair was gone for longer. The acknowledgment of your efforts was much more rewarding than it should have been.

And when your own longing for him grew to be unbearable, your self-consciousness being overridden by your need to have him, you had to figure out how to tell him. You thought of all the different ways you’d wanted to confess to him, making it as romantic as possible. But now, with this new ammunition, you wanted to have a little fun with it. You were thinking of making it a little more sexual. And that thought grew.

Now, you had an idea. And the first step required waiting for the next island, for that first day, and hoping that Sanji would volunteer as usual.

It was midday when Brook yelled out that he’d spotted land. You were helping Nami prune her tangerine trees, enjoying the sun warming your skin. The call made your stomach flip and caused a different sort of excitement than it usually did.

Nami predicted that you would all arrive by nightfall, and the crew decided to sleep on the ship and venture out tomorrow morning. You were suddenly thankful that you decided to wear your pale peach panties with a lettuce ruffle along the edges, and a cute little bow at the top of the waistband.

Come morning, Sanji offered to stay with the ship during breakfast. You had to fight off the stupid grin that wanted to spread across your face when you heard it.

“I wanna see what sort of stores they have,” Nami chirped.

“I think that’d be nice to do, too,” you offered.

Immediately, Sanji swooned and started fawning and crooning, “Oh my lovely, lovely ladies, out on the town, stripping down and dressing up!” He had his hands clasped and pressed to his face as he spun around, hearts in his eyes.

You giggled as Nami dragged you away from the table, ready to go out. The rest of the crew did similarly as they all decided what they were going to do with their day. You let her drag you off the ship and into town, and followed her through one store, commenting on everything she tried on. It wasn’t until you were on your way to the next store that you paused.

“Ah! Nami, I’ve forgotten my money on the ship. I’ll be right back,” you told her. You turned and left before she could offer to pay, adding to whatever debt you had to her with another added interest.

The ship was finally empty and you headed straight for the women's quarters. As quietly as you could, you pushed open the door and snuck in.

Sanji was standing there, the pair from yesterday pressed to his face. He was licking at the fabric, dragging his tongue across before sucking on it. A moan spilled out of his mouth as he did, and it was all somehow both equal parts lewd and cute.

You let the door click as you shut it behind you, causing Sanji to jump and spin around. His face flushed a deep red as he sputtered. He shoved the panties behind his back, as though hoping you hadn’t seen anything at all.

“Enjoying yourself?” you asked.

“Y/n-san! I— I was just… thinking of how nice it would be to clean for you ladies in here!” Sanji let out a nervous laugh.

“Mmmhmmm,” you hummed. You reached out and grabbed the arm he was trying to hide, and slowly guided it forward. He let you, unable to do anything that might seem like resistance to you. You dragged your fingertips down the length of his arm until you reached his hand to take the panties from his grasp.

“They were on the floor.” His gaze refused to meet yours. “I was just putting them back.”

“Right…” you unfurled them and held them up between you. “I know you’ve been taking them.”

Sanji opened his mouth to defend himself again but you cut him off. “But I don’t mind. I, uh, quite like it, actually.” His eyes widened in surprise. “It’s been very sweet of you to clean and return them, too, ever the gentleman. But you’ve been taking without asking, and I thought I should do something about that.”

You could hear his swallow. “Like what?” he asked.

Now it was your turn to get nervous. It was a bold move, one you wanted to work desperately. You dropped your hands, keeping your underwear gripped in one as you stepped forward and grabbed the front of his coat. “I want you to strip down.”

Sanji’s jaw dropped, clearly not expecting the request, your forwardness, your hands on his front. He was frozen by it.

“Please?” you added.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, breathless, his lapse broken by your plea. His hands immediately began to loosen his tie while you unbuttoned his coat. Piece by piece, you both peeled all of his clothes off. Once they were piled onto the floor, you took a step back just to admire.

He cut a lean figure. He did not have very large muscles, but what he did have was well defined. His legs were the most toned, and little faint scars crisscrossed along the skin. It was clear that he took care to keep himself as well groomed as he did clean. The hair on his chest was kept trimmed, and so was the line that followed down to his happy trail, all the way down to his pubes. You felt the heat that was coursing through you burn hottest when you stared at his cock. It was pretty. Long, but not all that girthy, and that rosy tip sitting tall from his hardness. It was also clear that the attention was making him nervous, as his hands shifted, not knowing where to place themselves.

“You’re beautiful,” you breathed out, completely in awe. You couldn’t believe he’d even waste his time on your underwear, when he looked like that.

Sanji’s cheeks got even redder somehow, as he deflected the compliment, “You must have mistaken me for a mirror, mon amour, when your own beauty outshines all.”

And that personality, so ready to serve and make others feel good, all above his own needs. You felt your heart swell with fondness, and it ached a little at how he couldn’t see how wonderful he was.

But that was part of why you were here now. To make him feel good.

You raised your underwear, offering it to him, and asked, “Can you put these on?”

Sanji’s face went right back to shock. “You want me to wear them?”

You nodded, a grin tugging at the edges of your mouth. You were also here to toy with him, too.

“If… if that’s what you’d like.” He reached out for them and then slipped them on.

And oh, had you made the right choice. The way they sat high on his hips, and just barely contained his bulge had your head swimming. The little ruffles and peach color made him look so sweet. You stepped close again and pressed your hands to his chest, feeling the muscle there before dragging them down, enjoying the fuzz that covered it all. He was warm from his embarrassment, and his breath hitched from the contact. You toyed with the band of the panties once your hands got there, playing with the material. Then, you grabbed his length, feeling him through the fabric. He moaned immediately.

“Y/n…” He grabbed your face and brought you in for a kiss, unable to resist any longer. It was heated and needy, and you were eager to return it. The taste of his last cigarette lingered on his lips. You rubbed at his cock, earning another moan, one that caused his mouth to open, and you took the opportunity to dart your tongue in, to taste more, to take more.

You stepped forward, gently guiding him to the bed. He let himself be led and broke off the kiss to be pushed onto his back. You climbed on top of him, straddling his waist, needing to have your hands back on him. You ran your fingers through his bangs, pulling them back as you went, and hungrily went back to devouring him. You ground your hips down into his, eliciting a whine from his throat.

Sanji’s hands wandered, first groping your tits before reaching down to slip under the hem. As badly as you wanted to let him strip you, you grabbed his wrist and tutted.

He looked at you with a furrowed brow and his bottom lip jutted out, confused, and like he had done something wrong.

“Not until I’ve had my fun, when you’ve made up for stealing from me.”

He averted his eyes at being reminded of his shame, and let his hands fall to your hips. He nodded, but kept his bottom lip pushed out. You could tell he was put out for not being allowed to serve you, but oh he was serving you so, so well right now.

You smiled at him, warm and genuine. “Good boy.”

His eyes lit up at the praise and he pulled you back in for more. Sanji was always eager to do as he was told.

You started grinding into him properly now, keeping a steady rhythm. You were both moaning and struggling to breath as your makeout became messier and messier. Teeth gently nibbled into lips and tongues explored mouths until Sanji couldn’t take much more.

“I’m so close,” he whimpered.

You lifted your hips, wrapped your hand around his cock, and started pumping. Sanji’s back arched as he started babbling. “Yes, yes, please, yes.” His moans got louder and louder. He cried out as he came, and you made sure that all the cum that came shooting out remained in the underwear.

“Just like that, baby. Just like that,” you cooed as you rubbed him the rest of the way through his high.

“Thank you, thank you,” he cried.

You kissed all over his face; his forehead, his cheeks, the tip of his nose. You lingered on his lips, but when his fingers dug into your waistband, you pulled back.

“Not yet. You’ll have to wait. For now…” you trailed off, building up courage. “I want you to get dressed.”

“What?” he asked. “But what about you, my love? You have to let me take care of you.”

“Later, later.” You pulled him up from the bed. “And I want you to keep the panties on, just the way they are.”

“But what about…” he gestured to the mess he made.

“Exactly.”

Sanji looked a little horrified at the prospect, and you wouldn’t make him do it if he truly didn’t want to. But he started nodding. “You like me like this?”

You grinned. “It’s a punishment, too, for all the cumming you’ve done in my underwear. You’ll have to sit in now.”

The loud sound of footsteps climbing the ramp that led onto the deck interrupted the two of you.

“Saaaaaanjiiii,” Luffy called. “I’m hungry!”

“You’d better hurry then,” you teased while swiping his pants off the ground.

Right before he left, after dressing him, you gave his cheek a quick kiss and his crotch a quick squeeze. The smile it put on his face dazzled you as he left, and you could see a faint trickle of blood flowing out of his nose.

It was hard for you to focus for the rest of the day. All you could think of was Sanji and his cum covered panties. When you were near him, it was impossible to function properly. Your eyes couldn’t help but wander right to his crotch and recreate the image of what you knew was there in your mind. Sanji seemed to be struggling in a similar way, as he seemed determined to keep an apron on at all times. To think that he must be covering his hard-on made your spine tingle. At one point he even accidentally switched the meals he was supposed to give Luffy and Nami. You couldn’t recollect a time he’d ever made a mistake like that.

At dinner, he made sure to place himself next to you. He rested his hand on your knee at first, letting it sit there as you all ate. But then it creeped its way upward, his fingers massaging as they went. You hooked your ankle around his and pulled his leg closer, just to feel more of him. This meal couldn’t end fast enough.

When it did finally end, you lingered in the dining room, waiting for the rest of the crew to go their separate ways. Walking back into the kitchen, Sanji had you pinned to the counter immediately. He buried his face into your neck, covering it in kisses as he spoke.

“Have I been good, my dear?” he asked, his voice desperate.

“Yes, you’ve been very good,” you purred as you pet his hair.

His hands slipped lower. “Let me take care of you, please.”

You nodded your assent, but pressed a hand to his chest to make him pause. “ Just take your pants off and then you can have me however you’d like,” you told him.

Sanji stripped himself faster than you thought possible, and dropped to his knees. He pressed his face into your clothed cunt, inhaling hard and mouthing at it. He lifted his eyes to yours, and asked, “May I?”

The sight before you made your stomach burn and cunt ache. The tip of his cock just barely peeked out of the soiled underwear, and his lips were wet with spit, just begging to be on you. “Yes,” you breathed.

He tugged off both your shorts and underwear in one go, and you could see the stars in his eyes as he stared at your pussy.

“So pretty,” he said, before hefting one of your legs onto his shoulder and diving in.

He dragged his tongue through all your folds, trying to get all the wetness that had gathered into his mouth and down his throat. Once he was satisfied, he pressed it flat to your clit, licking up and down, switching to tongue your hole and licking his way back up to it.

You brought your hand down to grip his hair, but had to restrain yourself from doing more. You wanted to pull his face even closer, if possible, and grind against it, but you were afraid of accidentally hurting him.

But it was Sanji, someone well attuned to how gestures convey emotions, needs, and he said, “Use my face, baby. I’ve been bad, selfish, for stealing your underwear. Take all you need from me.”

And you did as he asked, grinding down as soon as the last word left his mouth. The new stimulation made you whine, but your sounds were nothing compared to the sinful ones that came from Sanji. He was loud, and you could feel the sound just as much as you heard it. His hips began to thrust into nothing and his eyes were fully glazed over.

It didn’t take much longer for you to cum. With being pent up all day, the sounds from Sanji only increasing in pitch, and his tongue working at you relentlessly, the coil that had been growing tighter and tighter in your lower abdomen snapped, and Sanji drank up all that you gave him.

But he didn’t stop. Instead, with your hips gone still, he inserted two of his fingers into your hole and started pumping.

“One more. Just one more, can you do that for me?” he asked, before latching onto your clit without waiting for an answer.

Sanji curled his fingers and pounded at your sweet spot. He pulled another one from you as you gripped the counter behind you, trying to keep yourself upright and grounded. But of course, he still didn’t stop, and you whined out his name.

“Another one, my love. Only once more.” he murmured. And you let him, with legs shaking and hopeless moans spilling out of you.

He added another finger, stretching you out so nicely, The third orgasm had you near to collapsing, and you truly had to tug him off of you. “I can’t, Sanji. I can’t do anymore.”

He left a spattering of kisses across your thighs and whispered out thank yous and praises. Cheekily, he left a kiss to your clit before pulling all the way back and looking up at you. His face was a complete mess. His hair was sticking up every which way from your hands, and his face was soaked with your juices, smeared all across his mouth, cheeks, chin, and even his nose. You looked down to see that he’d already come, a fresh wet patch on the front of those panties, and a few ropes of cum dripping down his stomach and thighs.

“You’re so pretty like this. We’ll have to do it again,” you told him as you caressed his face.

Sanji gave you a big, dumb smile,full of admiration, and said, “Anything for you.”

#one piece #one piece x reader #black leg sanji #vinsmoke sanji #sanji x reader #can’t believe this is the longest one so far #putting Sanji in my underwear makes me feral

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defectivevillain · 23 days ago

Text

pas de deux

pairing: Sebastian Solace/Reader (can be platonic or romantic)

reader's race & gender are ambiguous; no pronouns or physical descriptors are used.

summary: “Where are you going?” You ask suspiciously. “Following you, of course,” Sebastian answers, as if it’s a stupid question. It’s a bit of a tight fit with the two of you in the submarine, considering Sebastian’s gargantuan tail. It wraps around the space and you find yourself standing uncomfortably in the middle—feeling akin to prey trapped in the coils of a snake’s tail.

word count: 2.4k | ao3 version

warnings: canon-typical injury, violence, and death

author's note: ty anna for the beta <333 @connorhasabigtip any remaining mistakes are mine!

“Any particular reason you’re following me?” You finally ask, stopping in the twentieth room and turning around to stare at Sebastian. The hybrid usually greets you after your death, providing you with research on the creatures that roam the Blacksite. He also sneaks in around level 47 to sell you items. But he’s never actually followed you like this before—appearing at the submarine dock and accompanying you on your exploration. You were under the impression that he was a wanted man—but, then again, he does have that weird transmission jamming device to keep himself undetectable…

“Just monitoring your progress, is all,” Sebastian shrugs, tapping his fingers restlessly. He’s clearly bored. You haven’t bothered to engage with him until now—instead pretending as if he isn’t following behind you. But you can only pretend for so long. You’ve always performed these expeditions on your own and, despite your annoyance, it’s nice to have some company for once. Even if that company takes the shape of a human hybrid who seems to hate your guts. Sebastian’s voice breaks you out of your thoughts. “Besides, it’s more fun to be up close and personal. Watch your guts spray everywhere and all that.”

You grit your teeth and ignore the macabre remark, instead continuing through the Blacksite and searching for items. Right now, you only have a small handheld flashlight—and the battery’s pretty low. If you want to get to the crystal, you’ll need more materials. Of course, Sebastian could be helping you look. Instead, he’s only hovering behind you ominously. He has virtually no concept of personal space, as he practically breathes down your neck each time you pause to rifle through drawers.

“You’re even smaller in person, you know,” Sebastian remarks, apropos of nothing. You feel that familiar irritation rising in your chest once more, but you quickly suppress it. He’s just trying to provoke you.

“You’re ten feet tall,” you remind him. You’re human—of course he’s going to tower over you.

“And?” Sebastian drawls. You just roll your eyes and keep searching, valiantly pretending you don’t have a relentless annoyance watching your every move. You enter the next room, only to hear the overwhelming sound of rushing water. Shaking your head, you keep exploring—occasionally glancing behind you warily.

The next hall is dominated by the same sound of rushing water. The lights aren’t flickering, so you think there aren’t any anglerfish. At least, until Sebastian’s voice breaks through the static in your mind. “You’d better hide,” Sebastian suggests with a smirk, his last word drawn out for effect. “Unless you want to be fish food.”

You freeze and try to listen for a moment, before deciding to trust his advice. You run for a locker and hide in it, just barely making it in time before the pink anglerfish is rushing past. Surprised that Sebastian was actually telling the truth, you wait a few seconds for it to pass before exiting the locker. The hall is dark now, and there’s no sign of Sebastian. Shrugging, you feel your way around in the dark and manage to find the door to the next hall. The metal slides open, only to reveal Sebastian leering down at you. Your heart jumps out of your chest and you can’t hide the surprised gasp that crawls its way out of your throat.

Sebastian cackles, before moving away from the doorway and allowing you to enter. And to think, you were just about to thank him for saving your life… You shake your head in disbelief. You really don’t understand this guy.

Admittedly, Sebastian’s presence is rather distracting. It’s hard to focus when he’s looming over you menacingly. You try your best not to show your wariness, because you know it’s just what he wants to see. Even so, you’re finding it difficult to focus on your surroundings. And when the lights flicker in warning, you’re too preoccupied with finding a locker to notice the anglerfish is only a mere few rooms away. Before you can hide, you’re promptly attacked and killed.

As your vision fades to black, you hear Sebastian’s laugh echoing in your mind. When you open your eyes to find yourself sitting at that desk once more, you glare at him. He could’ve warned you about the anglerfish.

“Hey, I helped you once,” Sebastian shrugs noncommittally. “Besides, I’m not your little buddy.” His voice drips with venom as he slides the anglerfish research document across the desk. There’s nothing new on the document.

You just sigh, pushing the file away from him and heading back to the submarine. It’s only when you turn the corner and make it to the dock that you realize he’s following behind you. “Where are you going?” You ask suspiciously.

“Following you, of course,” Sebastian answers, as if it’s a stupid question. It’s a bit of a tight fit with the two of you in the submarine, considering Sebastian’s gargantuan tail. It wraps around the space and you find yourself standing uncomfortably in the middle—feeling akin to prey trapped in the coils of a snake’s tail.

“I thought the novelty had ‘worn off,’” you manage to finally say, once you see that Sebastian is remaining still.

Sebastian just stares at you in an eerie silence. You shake your head and keep quiet as the submarine emerges from the water. Then, you start investigating the nearby drawers and cabinets, before heading through to the first door.

And so it continues. You open a door, look around in the hall, and enter the next room with Sebastian on your heels. When you hear an anglerfish approaching, you jump in a locker; you remember to routinely look behind you for Wall Dwellers; and you search for resources. But you can only fight off your curiosity for so long. “Why haven’t you been doing this the whole time?” You ask Sebastian. He could’ve been helping you from the beginning.

A laugh. “Can’t make things too easy for you,” Sebastian answers. “Besides, this is your job, not mine.”

That’s right. Sebastian isn’t helpful. He doesn’t serve anyone except himself. The only reason he’s accompanying you now is because it benefits him in some way. “Right, because your job is just to provide me overpriced weapons and mediocre advice,” you mutter darkly.

“Easy there, shrimp,” Sebastian says, his eyes flashing in warning. You roll your eyes and keep walking, trying to pretend as if he isn’t there. It’s proving to be an increasingly difficult task, between his towering form and frequent sarcastic comments.

In the next few rooms, you find a flash beacon. You know it’ll come in handy when you inevitably reach the halls with broken lights. And it doesn’t take long before you find yourself needing to use it. Feeling turned around, you reach down and send a flash across the space. You can just barely register the layout of the space: three halls branching off from one another, each leading to a different door. Then you see Sebastian out of the corner of your eye… he reaches out… and everything goes dark.

When you find yourself in that ever familiar dark room once more, you can’t contain your annoyance. “What the hell was that for?” You immediately snap. Sebastian just looms over you, looking rather pleased with himself. He just killed you for no reason.

“I warned you,” he says.

“No, you didn’t,” you argue. “And I didn’t even flash it in your direction!” Sebastian just shrugs. You sigh heavily and head out of the room, not even waiting for him to place the file down. Somehow, it appears he’s still benefiting from this arrangement—he must be, since he’s still following you into the submarine again.

You’re quickly growing frustrated and impatient with your companion. Sebastian is constantly talking; he doesn’t seem to know what personal space is; and he enjoys seeing you in pain. You thought it would be nice to have company, but Sebastian is quickly proving to be nothing more than a meddlesome distraction.

“It’s almost like you don’t want me to get to the crystal,” you mutter darkly, after he attempts to scare you. You concentrate on searching through the remaining three drawers, before moving onto the next room.

Then you pause in the doorway, understanding crashing down on you. Suddenly everything makes sense: his inexplicable, almost childish behavior; his insistent presence; and his never-ending amusement. “You don’t want me to escape,” you realize aloud. Your blood runs cold and you feel a shiver run down your spine. The fluorescent lighting above hums loudly.

“Took you long enough.” He remarks. Your back is turned, but you just know Sebastian is smiling. ��You’re stupidly trusting. Naive. It’s almost cute… but mostly pathetic.”

The lights above flicker in warning, but there’s a tense silence descending in the air. You’re still frozen in the doorway, listening for anglerfish. After a few moments, you conclude there aren’t any. Your fists clenched at your sides as you come to terms with Sebastian’s deceit, you try to keep walking—only for his voice to stop you.

“You forget yourself.” Sebastian whispers, his voice dark and deeply unsettling. You can’t see anything, but you can hear him moving behind you. His tail sounds as if it’s right behind you—like he’s coiling around you, ready to strike.

You grab your flash beacon in a tight-knuckled grip, ready to throw him off with a bright burst of light. You’re not sure how long you wait, entirely silent, before deciding to take a step forward. You wait a few seconds, then take another step. The room is drenched in darkness, and without the metal paneling on the floor to guide you, you have no idea where to go.

A whisper of a laugh and the sensation of breath at the back of your neck makes you whip around and fire off your flash beacon. It’s annoyed him in the past—it seems to take him off guard, at the very least. Maybe you can stun him long enough to make an escape.

The flash is blinding and your eyes water, sending tears down your cheeks. You can barely recognize Sebastian’s silhouette in front of you, and you can only hope that he freezes, or just lashes out at you-

The light fades and you’re left in the dark. You blink neon spots from your eyes, only to find two unmistakable blue orbs in the dark, a mere step away from you. “Did you really expect that to work?” Sebastian laughs cruelly.

Suddenly the flash beacon is ripped out of your hand and smoothly crushed, crackling in the air. You can hear the moment the fragments hit the ground, the impact echoing throughout the space. Your heart is roaring in your ears. Then, something disrupts the silence: the telltale shift of a door falling open. You turn around to find a green “56” illuminated on the wall. You’re almost paralyzed in fear, torn between making a run for it and staying in Sebastian’s sights.

He seems to sense your indecision, because he hums thoughtfully. “I’ve decided to be generous.” Sebastian says vaguely. Before you can wonder what that means, he’s continuing. “I’ll give you a twenty second head start.”

Twenty seconds isn’t nearly long enough for you to run away. You stare at his piercing blue eyes in disbelief.

There’s no way for you to discern the expression on his face in this darkness, but you just know he’s smirking. “Nineteen…” He whispers, sounding dangerously close to your ear. You instinctively bat at the space just next to your face, but there’s nothing. “Eighteen…”

It’s hopeless. That’s not nearly enough time to put a significant distance between the two of you. Not to mention, you have no idea what the next rooms contain. If they’re submerged in water, you’re really screwed.

“Fifteen… fourteen…” Sebastian’s voice jolts you back into reality. Adrenaline running through you, you race towards the next hall.

It doesn’t matter where you choose to go—you know he’ll find you. And Sebastian knows the futility of your attempted escape, if the malicious laugh echoing down the halls is any indication.

There’s no telling what he’ll do when he finds you.

…And he will find you.

You clamp a hand over your mouth to quiet your breathing and close your eyes, pretending you’re absolutely anywhere else. But you can only stay in the cramped locker for a few moments, before you’re beginning to panic. When you exit the locker, you can hear him in the distance. Gritting your teeth, you decide to just keep running.

Eyefestation is in the next hall, attempting to drag your attention towards it. You instinctually fight it off, at first, until you come to a realization.

You don’t want to give Sebastian the satisfaction of catching you. You don’t want to participate in this perverted game of his.

And, if you’re going to die anyways… you might as well have some control over it.

Mind made up, you turn back towards Eyefestation and stare right back at it—until your vision is flooded with blinding green and countless blinking eyes. You fall to the ground, and the last thing you hear before succumbing to darkness is a frustrated scream.

You wake slowly, as if wading through a thick sludge. When your eyes finally manage to open, you find yourself in the same room as always, sitting in front of Sebastian’s desk. There’s a harsh sound as Sebastian slams his hand on the desk in frustration. He doesn’t even give you the file on Eyefestation, instead glaring at you furiously. His fists are clenched so tightly that it looks as if he’s shaking. Despite the fear coursing through you, you still feel… satisfied. You didn’t allow yourself to be a pawn in his game.

And he knows it. There’s tension written all across his face. He almost seems to surround the entire space, his tail swishing violently behind him. “Get out.” Sebastian orders, clearly displayed. His voice is raspy and smooth all at once. There’s a dangerous calm in the way his body stills as he locks eyes with you. “Before I rip you limb from limb.”

You’re not sure if that’s an empty threat or a founded one, and you decide you don’t want to find out. You don’t hesitate to get up and run out the door, your heart racing as you sprint to the nearest submarine. Even when you’re enclosed within walls of metal, you can’t get rid of the goosebumps prickling along your skin—and the unquestionable notion that you’ve just made a terrible mistake.

no part two for this one, unfortunately.

anyways, thanks for reading! <3

check out my other works, sorted by fandom.

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#defectivevillain #pressure roblox #pressure sebastian #Sebastian solace #Sebastian solace x reader #Sebastian solace x gn reader #gn reader #transmasc reader #male reader

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readingcoco · 10 months ago

Text

Painted Red 🖤

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Reader (f)

Words: 3444 words

Ao3 Link

Summary: When a new sandy-haired Deputy Sheriff arrives in town, you can't figure out why he gives you and the other Working Girls so little attention. It becomes your mission to figure him out and hopefully make some money along the way.

Warnings: 18+ minors dni, eventual smut, sex work, period typical attitudes, strangers to lovers, medium honor Arthur Morgan, angst, mutual pining, Deputy Callahan.

Thanks to @rivetingrosie4, @redwritr & @shootybangbang for all your help on this story and for being dreamy angels.

Chapter One - The Deputy

[chapter 2]

“Guess who’s downstairs!” a voice interrupts from behind your door.

The autumn sun sits heavy in the sky, casting a warm pink haze that spills in through your bedroom window. You were supposed to start your shift an hour ago, but instead, you are here, sprawled out on your bed, hair undone, counting the money from the evening before. Muffled notes from the piano downstairs drift softly into your room. You inhale deeply on your cigarette, resenting all things that pull you away from these precious sleepy moments before you have to head downstairs. Make conversation. Smile. Perform.

Timekeeping has never been your strong suit, and you have lost count of the times Lulu had threatened to dock your tips for tardiness. These were empty threats, of course. You knew your position was secure - Even if Lulu liked to kick up a fuss in front of the other girls.

Brow furrowed, you take another drag from your cigarette. $15. $75 total from the week so far. Money hadn’t been flowing as freely as it had done seasons past. The drought had hit everyone hard, and you knew, sure enough, if the boys were feeling it in the tobacco fields, it wouldn’t be long till you were feeling it in the cat house, too. Seemed everyone was praying for rain. Still, Saturday meant full pay packets and men eager to let loose after the working week - something you were more than happy to help them with.

“Who!?” you call out, just as Minnie peeps her head around your door.

“Christ! You look like you’ve been dragged through a hedge ass backwards! Lulu’s been askin' after you?”

You hum in response, dragging a comb through the bird's nest atop your head sweeping it up into a loose bun. “Who's got you all giddy? Surely not some John?”

“That new Deputy’s back!”

You roll your eyes. “How big’s the pot now?”

“$5. $5.25, if you still fancy your chances”, Minnie smirks, perching herself at the foot of your bed, watching as you put the last of your face on. “but Ida says she’s out. She don’t wanna waste more time on a Trick who don’t want tricking.”

“Tricks always want to be tricked,” you say, rooting through the collection of bills and coins laid out haphazardly across your bed, handing Minnie 25¢, which she slips into her coin purse.

Men were mostly the same. Sure, some might pretend to be respectable in the streets with their wives or taking their mothers to church on a Sunday, but you’d had every colour and creed between your legs. This deputy would be no different, and you were going to relish claiming the prize pot for yourself.

With a final drag of your cigarette, you smooth out your skirts and collect the pile of money on your bed, stashing it in your linen drawer - making a mental note to deposit it in the parlour safe before the night was out. Keeping that much money in your room is foolish, and if you were more sensible, you would deposit your tips between each John. But then you’d miss out on watching the pile grow. Evidence of your labour, your time, your craft. It wasn't like you worried you wouldn’t get it back as soon as requested - Lulu’d always been good about things like that, but to hand it over before you’d even had the chance to feel the paper fully in your palm seemed like it would make it less real somehow.

You turn to Minnie-

“You ready?”

“Girl, I’ve been waiting on you!”

“Let’s give that deputy the night of his life.”

Although the sun is yet to set in the sky, the house is already live with music and laughter, the mezzanine balcony providing the perfect vantage point to assess what the evening might have in store. There are men fresh from the fields playing Faro, Lemoyne Raiders several whiskeys deep, a few of the younger, more boisterous Grays and the creepy gunsmith, Mister Feeney. Not amazing pickings, but not dire either. Then you spot him, sitting quietly on the table closest to the door, hat pulled low, scribbling something furiously into some book. An odd sight, all considered. You weren’t sure most of the men in this town could read, let alone write.

Minnie squeezes your arm before descending the spiralled staircase, the Deputy firmly in her sights. You lean back to watch as she glides effortlessly across the room—a vision in teal silk taffeta.

As you settle onto your hip, the fine hairs on your neck abruptly stand to attention as the air pressure changes behind you.

“So kind of you to grace us with your presence.” Lulu’s voice drips thick with syrupy disdain. Smile remaining tight. Never in front of the guests.

“Punctuality is a virtue of the bored, Miss Lulu.” You smile sweetly.

She’s not impressed.

“Just get to work. Make Some Money.”

As you look back down to the floor below, a dispirited Minnie is walking away from the Deputy, his nose still firmly in his book. You bristle slightly. Did this man think himself better than the women who worked here? Sure, he was paying for drinks, but a man could drink at home if he was looking for solitude. In a parlour house, it was polite, proper even, to tip the girls, whether you require our services or not. And if the deputy didn’t know this etiquette, you were more than happy to educate him. Prize pot be damned.

It was your turn to make the night’s debut down the curve of the parlour’s stairs, something that on an ordinary night, you liked to draw out for as long as possible. Feel the eyes of each man gaze up at your form like they were watching a goddess descending from heaven, blessing them with your time. True power. But tonight, it takes everything in you not to stomp down the last few steps onto the floor.

That cad still isn’t paying you a lick of attention.

“Deputy.” Your voice comes out curter than you intend as you reach him. You hope Lulu isn’t close enough to overhear.

“Maybe another time, Darlin” " the man responds without looking up.

Make conversation.

“Deputy” You try again. “Are you aware of the price on your head?”

The sound of pencil scratching comes to a halt as he turns to face you. To your surprise, you notice that he was drawing rather than writing as he snaps the leather-bound book shut—the sound startling your gaze upwards to meet his own. And for the first time, you take in the scale of the man. Built like an Ox with broad shoulders and a barrel chest, upon which the words ‘Deputy Sheriff’ shine out from his silver badge. From this proximity, he looks unlike any lawman you’ve seen.

He watches you intently as though trying to predict your next move - eyes a piercing shade of azure blue, locked dangerously onto your own. You have his full attention, but now you’re unsure if you want it.

“Excuse me?”

You swallow and try to make your next words lighter in tone.

Smile.

“Nearly five and a half dollars, in fact.”

His shoulders loosen ever so slightly. Eyes still on you but less predacious, perhaps even the suggestion of a smirk beginning to form at the corner of his mouth.

“Five and a half dollars? That’s some bounty. What I do, rob a bank?”

“Worse,”

He rubs his jaw.

“Oh?”

“You got five whores questioning our faculties. There’s a sweep on which lucky lady’s gonna be the first to get you upstairs, but so far, no one’s got as far as your name.”

A low rasp of a laugh passes the Deputy’s lips, and you feel a sense of relief as the danger in the air dissipates. Bluntness- this man responds to bluntness. And you wonder if you can hold his attention long enough to work your magic.

Perform.

“There are normally two reasons a man mightn’t want to lay with a girl like me…”

You pause for effect, starting to have fun now.

“He’s broke. Though that don’t stop most from pushin’ their luck. Or they’re queer.”

The Deputy straightens and clears his throat. There is something delightful about making a man like this squirm, and you can’t help but sense that he may be enjoying it too.

“So which is it, Deputy?”

You give him your most innocent of smiles. Hand finding purchase upon the swell of his shoulder, knowing full well that its removal could signal the latter of your accusations. You are being cruel now.

There is a moment of hesitation before the man can find the words to respond. Your unassuming smile not giving him an inch of wiggle room. Thumb beginning to make slow circles atop his shirt.

“I-It’s just not really my thing. Payin' for it, I mean. Not that I can’t, or - or-”

“Oh? There’s some third thing I ain’t privy to? A sweetheart somewhere you’re keeping true for?”

“Not really, no.”

A hint of regret in his voice.

“Then why deny yourself a bit of company?”

You notice the tips of his ears turn pink and leave his lack of an answer to hang in the air for a moment before taking pity-

“Don’t worry, I’m just teasin’, but you ought to know it’s customary to buy a girl a drink, even if you ain’t planning on laying with her. We all have to make a living, Deputy, and this is my house.”

And you're not sure if it’s out of a sense of gratitude at you relenting your line of questioning or because he has started to enjoy the warmth from your hand on his shoulder, but that’s when he motions for the barkeeper to bring two drinks over to the table.

Your eyes dart over to Minnie, who is sat between two Grays. She throws you an encouraging wink, and you become keenly aware of the four other sets of eyes watching too. This is the furthest any of you has got with this man, and a wave of responsibility washes over you. You are going to earn that $5.25 plus the additional $5 when he fucks you. You feel foolish for ever doubting your ability in the first place. A man is a man, is a man.

“Ethel White”, you hold out your hand “but call me Ettie.”

“Arthur Callahan.”

Arthur.

He nods to the chair across from him as he removes the leather book from the table and puts it away in his satchel. You pull out the chair next to him instead, purposefully pinning him between you and the wall.

“Christ woman, you ain’t coy, are you?” he laughs, removing his hat, revealing a sandy crop of hair.

Without his hat, you are better able to take in the details of his face: the strong brow, the crook of a nose broken one too many times, a smattering of sunspots across his crown. Quite handsome, you think to yourself, a welcome change from the interchangeable looks of the Grays or Braithwaites who make up the bulk of your clientele.

“Not at all,” you smirk. “Besides, I want to take a look at what you were scribbling away at in that book. Must be awfully interesting to hold your attention so well.” You glance down at the journal now peeking out the top of his satchel. “Is that watercolour paper?”

“Huh?”

“Watercolour paper, you know, to stop the paint seeping through and spoiling the rest of the pages? I saw you were drawing and-”

He looks at you then, and you can see a slight flicker of shame cross his face momentarily. The feeling of someone pointing out the unfamiliar to a previously known thing, changing it somehow, making it less your own. You feel guilty. Watching him squirm was fun, but you never intended to make him feel foolish.

“I don’t paint. It’s for sketching mostly, keepin' track of the people and places I’ve been.”

“You do a lot of travelling, Deputy?”

“A bit.”

That instinct again, that there is more to this man than meets the eye. The lawman artist a walking contradiction.

“What do you paint then?”

His question catches you off guard. Men like to be asked about themselves. They rarely ever show interest in you. A prick of heat flushes across your cheeks, and you hope the rouge of false abashment covers its authentic companion. It’s you who is in control here - not him, goddammit. But his face is filled with genuine curiosity, like he wouldn’t have asked if he wasn’t interested, and that’s what puzzles you further.

“Um, landscapes mostly, but I prefer painting people.” The words spill out before a filter of allurement or double entendre can be applied. “It’s just difficult to get people to sit for any length of time. Though I’ve painted all the girls here at some point or another.”

“Where’d ya learn?”

And that is a question too far.

You’d been gifted a great many things over the years, some thoughtful, most not, and learned the hard way how easily something given could be taken away. You’re art though, no one could take that. You wondered sometimes if that had been an oversight when you’d been promised lessons. The techniques acquired the only remaining thing worth a damn apart from your horse. Leftovers from another life.

“Don’t change the subject, Deputy. Are you going to show me your sketches or not?” Before you can stop yourself, you are leaning over him to grab at his satchel, totally aware that the danger this man displayed to you only moments earlier still lies just below the surface. With lightning-quick reflexes, he grabs the wrist of your right hand, firm in his warning. Do not push me, girl. But you have never been one to know when to stop. Your eyes are locked onto him as your breath comes in quick and heavy to your chest; You notice his start to slow. He’s read you like a book. Left hand spearing from under the table to meet your secondary attack, pinning it against his thigh.

You look down at your fingers splayed out under the weight of his own. Knuckles scarred and calloused from a lifetime of work not typically required by law enforcement. The warmth from his thigh radiates beneath your palm, and it takes everything in you not to edge your fingers closer to the source of his heat.

He meets you with an expression you struggle to place. Not anger - though you couldn’t blame him if it was. Amusement maybe?

“Think careful about your next move now, Miss. I wouldn't want to have to arrest you for larceny.”

You give him your widest of smiles and look carefully over your shoulder behind you. And as though suddenly clocking the inference of your shared position, Arthur lowers your right hand so it rests on the table rather than in the air. The grip still firm.

“If I let you go, will you behave?”

“Will you show me your drawings?”

“Woman-” But he doesn’t say no.

“I’ll behave.”

He looks at you, trying to figure out whether he trusts you.

“I promise.”

Gaze still set, he experiments loosening the grip on your wrist and then shadows the hand on his thigh - awaiting any sudden movements. You hold still. And for a moment, you see him grapple with himself as though he can’t quite believe what he is about to do. He releases you fully, and you take back your right hand, leaving your left firmly in place.

“Now, if I show you, you gotta promise not to go grabbin'? There’s stuff a man should be able to keep private.”

You nod.

He grins as he bucks his thigh, dislodging your rooted palm.

“Hands behind your back.”

With a playful huff you acquiesce, putting both arms behind you as though bound and look back at him coquettishly. And although he feigns disinterest at the way this new position pushes forward the peak of your chest, you catch his eyes dart across them, guilty in their haste.

He removes the leather-bound journal from his satchel, smoothing open two pages carefully on the table.

“Here. But that’s your lot.”

Spread across both pages is a beautifully rendered sketch of the parlour’s exterior, and you don’t know how to react. He stiffens slightly beside you.

“Just a silly doodle,” he says, moving to close the book. Clearly reading your quietness for disappointment, disgust, something else?

“Wait-”

To see the parlour captured in such effortless detail; The ornate carvings of the porch where you take your morning coffee, the Virginia Creeper that had to be cut back for fear it’d engulf the entire house, the hanging baskets of petunias that Lulu so lovingly tended to - feels exposing in a way you’d not expected. What other unnoticed minutiae had his perceptive eyes picked up on?

“It’s beautiful. You’ve captured it just right.” You half-whisper.

“Ain’t as good as a paintin’.”

“Different thing entirely, but if you can draw like this, I’m sure you’d make a fine painter.”

He gives you the smallest of smiles as you catch sight of Lulu’s permeating glare as she sweeps down the central staircase. You are on the clock. If he’s not biting, move on. And you remember you are not here to discuss painting or art unless it serves your more explicit purpose.

“See that top window at the back?” You make sure to graze his arm as you remove one hand from behind your back, bringing it slowly to the open page.

“That’s my bedroom.”

“Oh?”

“Might you like to come up and see some of my work?”

You can see him contemplating the thought over in his mind, and you start to wonder if there really is some poor woman he is betrothed to… or perhaps your prior insinuation was correct, for you have never met a man so ill at ease at being in close proximity to a woman-

“Mister Callahan!”

You are both pulled away from each other's gaze as you turn to face your intruder. Sheriff Gray. And you are up and on your feet in an instant. Eyes twinkling with faux excitement to welcome this invader of fun, spoiler of all things delightful and new. Arthur straightens to attention.

“I see you’ve met Ettie. Ain’t she a peach? I hope she’s been treatin’ you with all the hospitality we here at Rhodes can offer.” As he slurs his words, it is clear he’s already halfway soaked and once again, you feel Lulu’s watchful eyes on the back of your neck. You have a responsibility to your house, and Sheriff Gray isn’t any regular John. To keep him placated is to keep the house protected, and it is your duty to ensure the Sheriff remains happy and drunk, coddled and empty.

“Oh, stop it!” You coo in his ear, wrapping your arm up tightly in his. Voice layered thick with honey.

The shine on his breath hits like a train, bringing tears to your eyes that you mask by nuzzling your head to his shoulder. He sags heavy on your hip, oblivious.

“You didn’t tell me you’d hired such a handsome new Deputy-''

Arthur shifts in his seat, and you wonder what detail of your performance his observant eyes have picked up on.

“You keepin’ secrets from me, Sheriff? Or do you just want me all to yourself?”

“I’d be lyin’ if I said I didn’t.” Sheriff Gray hiccups and turns to face Arthur. “Do you mind if I accompany the lady upstairs?”

Arthur stands, towering over the Sheriff by quite some measure and places his hat back atop his head.

“Course not. You both enjoy your evening. I’ve to be headin' back anyway.”

For a second, your eyes meet Arthur’s, but his expression is impenetrable. The Sheriff speaks again.

“Safe travels, Deputy. Rhodes is honoured to have such honest men like you and Mr Mackintosh about. Your work rootin’ out that shine is already being felt around the county.”

Arthur nods. The effects of the shine are certainly being felt.

He hiccups again. “Don’t be a stranger, now.”

“Don’t be a stranger.” You repeat, all traces of the sickly sweet affect gone from your voice. You yip as the Sheriff swats your backside, but you keep your head high, eyes still held on this curious lawman artist.

Don’t be a stranger.

“Miss.” Deputy Callahan touches the brim of his hat as you lead Sheriff Gray upstairs to your room.

#rdr2 #arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan x fem!reader #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x reader #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 smut #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan x oc #painted red

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