Baisemain [G!Papyrus x Reader] By nixdex on DeviantArt
Baisemain - A kiss on the hand Ever since you had met the tall skeleton monster, you had been absolutely charmed. W.D. Papyrus was the definition of a gentleman. Everything he did screamed elegant, from the way he walked to the way he talked. He treated everyone with utter respect and kindness. Even if he happened to find himself in a sticky situation, he kept his cool. Like the day you had met him. You had been making your way home from a late night shift, calmly walking down the streets in the middle of the night, enjoying the cool but pleasant air. Not cold enough to freeze in your thin jacket and scarf, but still enough for your breath to fog when you breathe out. And of course, your night was ruined when a man quickly took a grip of your messenger bag, trying to rip it from you. But jokes on him, since you were always prepared. Never let your guard down in a big city, especially during night when you're alone. Number one rule of survival. While you were having a tug of war with the mugger -him being armed with a knife, yet only being bark and no bite-, your knight on a white horse arrived. Papyrus had calmly strolled up to the two of you, tapping the man's shoulder to get his attention. Your mugger had quickly let go of your bag, making you stumble back and land on your butt, like the graceful princess you were. At first you had been startled by the tall monster, he was a skeleton after all. But as soon as he opened up his mouth to speak, you had calmed down. “I believe it is not very polite to try and steal a young woman's bag without her approval,” the skeleton’s voice was so smooth that for a moment you forgot you were being mugged. Was it even possible to have such a smooth voice? If he had been your teacher in college, you might have paid a bit more attention in class. Completely missing the exchange of words between the two men -as you were too busy staring at the skeleton-, you were quite surprised when the mugger started to cry while your saviour gently patted him on the back. Your mugger, who introduced himself as Mark, had apologized to you through his tears, his voice breaking so much it was painful to witness. He explained how he lost his job and his wife took away his children, kicking him on the streets, and he was desperate for money. Feeling sorry for the man, you had quickly fished out a 20 (dollar/euro/etc.) and handed it to him, which only made him cry more. After the gentle skeleton also had provided him with some extra cash, you had given him directions to a homeless centre, one that you at times visited to do some volunteering in the kitchen. As soon as the man began walking in the direction you pointed out, you turned to the monster before you, smiling kindly at him. “Thank you so much for your help, how can I repay you, Mr....?” “W.D. Papyrus,” the man introduced himself, holding out his hand for you to take, which you did. “And there is no need for repayment, it was the right thing to do after all.” You almost missed what he said, seeing as you were very busy admiring how smooth his bones were. Which sounds creepy yes, but they were very smooth. Did he use lotion? You were even more surprised when he lifted your hand up, him also leaning forward to gently press his teeth against your knuckles. After a long conversation with you shuttering about needing to repay him for his kindness, you were able to convince him to join you in a café the very next day. Whether it was him accepting defeat or him taking pity in your flustered state, you would never know. And that was how you got to know the gentleman named, W.D. Papyrus. And it was only downhill from there. You found yourself enchanted with everything he did. His relaxed features when he was enjoying a book in your company, the way he held his cup of tea, how he lectured his brother in the most caring and calm way possible -which you found fascinating, since when you lectured your siblings, it usually ended up in a hair tugging war-, and oh dear god did you love the way he said your name. He had the most interesting accent, one that you couldn't pinpoint even if you wanted. You once asked him about it, and he said it was from a language among skeletal monsters, one that he rarely used nowadays. You often found yourself staring at his face. You tried convincing yourself it wasn't creepy, but deep down you knew you should be ashamed for not being able to rip your eyes away from him. Sans caught you once, and you had never seen anyone look as smug as he did in that exact moment. Your eyes would trail along the two cracks on his face, one above his right eye, and the other one under his left one. The thought of them being in pain was scary, since you really didn't want anything to be able to harm such a pure person. Sometimes you tried to imagine where he might have gotten them, but then quickly remembered Sans also had them, which either meant it was a family trait or both had done something idiotic to cause so similar injuries. But then again you couldn't imagine Papyrus doing anything stupid, so it must have been Sans’ fault in that case. “Papyrus,” you called out his name to get his attention, which you did “can I ask you something?” The tall skeleton looked at you for a moment before he placed a bookmark in his book and resting the literature on his lap. The two of you were seated in one of the sofas in his and Sans' huge Victorian house. You often found yourself reading with Papyrus, just enjoying the other’s presence and a good story. Other times you would enjoy a coffee or tea together, or even take a walk. You were a calm pair, both finding more enjoyment in a quiet afternoon over a bar trip with a bunch of friends. “Of course.” Papyrus answered as he had his attention turned to you. Nervously you placed your own book on the coffee table, shifting around as you gathered courage to ask what had been nagging in your mind for a long time now. “Do...” you started before rethinking your words “Do they hurt? The cracks, I mean.” you toyed with your fingernails out of nervous habit, hoping you didn't ask a sensitive or too personal question. Hearing a small chuckle next to you made you relax ever so slightly, knowing he hadn't taken any offence in your curiosity. “They do not hurt, there is no need to worry over them.” Papyrus assured, and as you looked back up at him, you could see he actually found your worry amusing. Once again nervous, you swallowed thickly before speaking once again. “May I touch them?” you could see Papyrus’ eyes widen slightly, making you regret your question. You were just about to stand up to make a run for the front door to escape the awkwardness, when you felt a gentle touch on your hands. Glancing down, you saw a skeletal hand with a hole in the middle of the 'palm' carefully gripping your hands which were resting on your lap, lifting them up to his face. He placed your palms against his cheekbones, giving you a small nod to tell you it was alright. With his phalanges still holding their contact with your skin, you moved your hands to trace alone the cracks, finding them very interesting. Your eyes were glued onto the dark lines, as if your stare alone could fix them. “They are not an injury, no need for worry, my dear.” Papyrus spoke, as if reading your mind. “So it's a family trait then, not Sans accidentally making something explode in both of your faces.” you answered, seeing Papyrus chuckle at your joke you gave a mental pat on your shoulder. “Indeed. Our father also had cracks on his face, just like Sans and myself.” your (e/c) eyes moved from his face to his hands, which were still placed over yours. Carefully turning your hand around in his, so you could gently take hold of his phalanges you studied the hole in the middle of the metacarpal as well as part of his carpals bones. You wondered how it was possible for his fingers to stay in their rightful places, even when the bones aren't intact, his phalanges and metacarpals simply float in their spots. “And these?” you spoke quietly, as if a loud voice would ruin the moment. “Also family trait.” your eyes darted to his, asking the unspoken question “And no, they do not hurt either.” he reassured with a gentle smile on his face. He and Sans were capable of quite a lot of expressions, keeping in mind that they were only bones. Could bone even flex? It shouldn't, right? “Then how...?” with your fingers you gently brushed against the empty space in his palm. “Magic.” he chuckled, watching you with adoration as you studied his hands. With gentle movements Papyrus took hold of your hand again, bringing it to his teeth in the same manner as on the day the two of you met. But instead of pulling away after one skeletal kiss on your knuckles he moved on to press his teeth against your wrist, and then slowly making his way up along your arm. As your brain crashed from overheating, you could do nothing but watch the act with a beet red face. Papyrus didn't seem to mind at all as he continued to slowly get closer to your neck. With each new kiss the hair on your neck stood on it's ends, until finally, Papyrus reached your neck and pulled away, only enough to look at your face. “May I kiss you, (_Name_)?” his voice was still so quiet and smooth, if only the slightest bit rough. Not trusting your own voice, you nodded rapidly, your face heating up even more. With another gentle chuckle Papyrus leaned closer to your face, his eyes closing as he did so, and placed his teeth against your lips. You didn't even know if it counted as a kiss, as he didn't have any lips, but it still made your heart beat dangerously fast and butterflies flutter in your stomach, but you ignored it as you closed your own eyes and pressed slightly closer to him. A bright light and the sound of a shutter startled you enough to make you jump and pull away, breath uneven and face red as a tomato. Both you and Papyrus turned your heads to look at the source. Standing nonchalantly in the room with you was Sans, a cigarette in between his teeth and your beloved polaroid camera in hand, a new picture being spit out from the camera. He took it out from the machine and waved it a couple of times before looking at it. “I should get into the photography business.” Sans spoke, placing the picture on the coffee table before leaving, your camera still in his hands. Taking a peak at the picture you covered your face with your hands, muttering how embarrassed you felt over the whole situation. Papyrus on the other hand took the picture and studied it closely, a fond smile on his face. His other hand reached for one of yours, clasping them together and once more bringing your hand to his teeth for a Baisemain.
