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redbean-nom · 2 months ago

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thinking abt designs for the mythosaur and shriek hawk, because the canon mythosaur does in no way resemble a semiaquatic jungle creature, and the canon "shriek hawk" appears to either be some sort of dino-planet mutant population or somehow crossed with nevarro dragons, especially since it doesn't even match the silhouette of the vizsla shriek hawk- either way, the shriek hawk equivalent of those super squashed french bulldogs.

so. starting with the mythosaur:

disclaimer: this is pulling from both legends and canon, and also from the perspective of someone whose background is in general dentistry, not paleoart reconstruction

our only existing examples of mythosaur fossils are the skull insignias and replicas: the original cracked-skull signet from boba's pauldron, the stylized signet from jaster/the haat'ade, grogu's pendant, and the one on the armorer's wall in the nevarro forge.

this is further complicated by mythosaurs being sexually dimorphic at a skeletal level as well as the iconic sigil being apparently based off a humanoid species that resembles a male mythosaur:

the Jaing mythosaur seems to feature the binocular eyes/eye sockets seen most clearly in the boba and jaster signets, but broader-set and straighter tusks than almost all the attributed mythosaur skulls. assuming that basic features like eye/nose placement and mandibular structure aren't dimorphic, the Forge mythosaur is probably the most accurate representation of a mythosaur skull.

the Living

the only appearance of a nearly-complete mythosaur skeleton is in the form of a defunct theme park of dubious accuracy and proportions, depicted in one issue of a comic from 1977:

this is... certainly something, to say the least. the skull part features the same monocular eye placement (correlates with the Forge mythosaur), oddly-placed nose horns (and no nostrils, and also weird nose-abs), remarkably no tusks, some sort of unicorn-ceratopsid horn crest.

The vehicles for scale are unidentified transport barges, but they seem to be about a foot taller than leia in the back, so approximately 6ft? judging from the transport in the eye-door, the orbital socket is approximately 48 ft across.

in comparison, our other data points in terms of size demonstrate 1) at least one mythosaur (the Living Waters mythosaur) has a head at least twice as tall as din, so approximately 12ft of visible head in comparison to the 48ft-eye of the Theme Park mythosaur. 2) some number of mythosaurs were large enough and of a reasonable shape to be ridden. 3) mythosaurs generally have some large bones of a size appropriate for mythosaur axes, but most likely not so large that the entire axe could be carved from one bone (given the segmented axe shape). 4) all(?) mythosaurs have a sternum bone of a size reasonable for the carving of the mask of mandalore and presumably of a shape reminiscent of the bes'karta.

the Living Waters mythosaur also provides some valuable detail on its face: it appears to be a large reptilian with rough skin of a muted color, seemingly demonstrating the elongated facial structure and the separate tusks (so not a hippo skull situation).

it seems quite odd that the Theme Park mythosaur depiction would leave out the tusks, so given that the Jaing mythosaur resembles a specifically male mythosaur, i'll assume the female mythosaur has the unicorn-ceratopsid crest instead. i'm also going to assume the nose horns are a iguanodon situation, so i've moved them to points of the cheek ridge like ceratopsid cheek points.

looking at these examples, the weirdest thing that seems to stand out is the oddly vertical jaw- where does the mandible attach? how does it eat?? does it actually bite offensively if it has to smush its whole face up to where it's biting?? what sort of range of motion does it have?? the Jaing mythosaur/Jaing species and the Theme Park mythosaur both have more horizontal heads that would better facilitate eating in a hand-less predatory animal; however, the Living Waters mythosaur does have that weird vertical jaw (unless its mouth goes at a 90 degree angle from the rest of its face, like a goblin shark). then again, we can't rule out that the Living Waters mythosaur is just a weird individual with some facial deformity causing the impractical verticality.

that said, why does it have rodent teeth. where are the rest of its teeth. why does it have a huge gap in the side of its face.

i tried putting skin over it and now it looks like a sock puppet.

time to try again with a more forward-angled maxilla, instead of just continuing the angle of the upper face.

i... don't know if this is worse. it looks like some sort of horrible sauropod-rat. well, at least the canon version looks at least as unwieldy as this :/

possible solution for the vertical face: maybe it rotates like how gorilla heads stay facing forward when they're knuckle walking or bipedally walking? but like a weird reptilian version? but then their teeth would be horizontal :///

alright. take three, this time with a more humanoid vertical jaw.

it now looks like it ran facefirst into a brick wall. unsure if this is an aesthetic improvement from the sauropod rat, but it seems even less functional in terms of range of motion and durability. however, the occlusion is a bit better in the resting state?

looking at it again, how does it even fight. the tusks would seem like the obvious answer but they seem too close to the face? and the teeth are huge but they're weird flat skinny incisors that are way too vertical to be of use without smushing the entire face up against the prey.

not to mention these are supposed to be jungle creatures?? judging from the Living Waters mythosaur i'm going to assume they're some sort of jungle river creature-

-ARE THEY BALEEN FILTER FEEDERS

apparently baleen is a non-fossilizing soft tissue, which would explain why the Theme Park mythosaur doesn't seem to have any functional teeth, and those weird skinny incisors can either be some sort of baleen-like tissue replicated as "teeth" in the classic "mythosaur skull" (especially if the Jaing species and associated Jaing mythosaur actually did have teeth), or something like split rostrum whales.

that would also explain how such a huge creature supports large global populations

well, this still needs some work, but it definitely looks better than sock puppet mythosaur... except no, the nostrils probably wouldn't work if the baleen attach to the front of the skull.

going back to look at the front view, the Forge mythosaur seems to have some indentations between its eyes, kind of like where rancor nostrils are, that look similar to trunk attachment points. except the actual nostrils are lower on the Living Waters mythosaur.

wait

going back to rodent teeth

BEAVER. BEAVER TEETH

THATS WHAT HAS WEIRD LONG SKINNY INCISORS

irl, beavers have iron deposits in their enamel to prevent wear/stress during tree-gnawing activity. what if. beaver mythosaur. with BESKAR INFUSED TEETH

mandalore also has massive veshok forests - hardwood trees remarkable for their sturdiness. so it makes sense that something would make use of those giant veshok trees!

BEAVER MYTHOSAURS WITH BESKAR TEETH THAT GNAW VESHOK TREES

BEAVER MYTHOSAUR BUILDING A DAM UNDER THE LIVING WATERS

BEAVER MYTHOSAUR

beavers eat mostly wood and assorted vegetation; to maintain both the herbivore teeth and the reptilian appearance i've added marine iguana features to the mix. (conveniently, iguanas' parietal eye nicely explains the indentation in the middle of the Forge mythosaur's forehead)

it. it looks so dumb but a little more in a Weird Animal way and not a sad deflated sock puppet

...now on to the rest of the body (essentially, it's a 60-ft-long marine iguana with beskar teeth and beaver behavior) :

their reputation as fierce beasts/honorable foes can likely be attributed to Large Herbivore. it's a mandalorian beaver-iguana-moose. with beskar teeth.

#star wars #redbean art #mandalorian #mandalorians #mythosaur #the mythosaur #mandalore #looking at the full body version and yeah that looks sufficiently Weird Alien Beast but also normal enough to be an animal

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therekinperson · 2 months ago

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-REBIRTH-

Prologue comic: here

Word count: 1K

Borders by @lambouillet

Narinder jolts awake as a hand pulls his conscience to the surface, his chest heaving with breaths.

His body has a wave of numbness to it, like he's wearing a heavy suit that mimiced how he looked before getting decapitated. Breathing in cold, thin air.

But in Narinder's head, he shouldn't be breathing right now. His fate predetermined by the bishops, sending him to a crude, weathered axe.

So the way he's taking in new breath feels wrong--or at the most, impossible.

Narinder pulls his damaged hands from the bandages they're wrapped in. They sting less then how they were beforehand, but ache as sharp pangs strike his joints and travel down his arms.

Back in the prison, the warden would break his hands to make sure that he wouldn't 'get any smart ideas.' Narinder presses the knuckle of one of this less damaged fingers against his neck, trying to focus on the odd tension clenching around it.

It feels meaty, fleshy, like if he so wanted to, he could just pull his head off his shoulders. Or if he spun around his head would fall right off his shoulders (more than how its spinning right now) It doesn't answer how he's still alive. If he even is alive.

Eternal captivity. So this is what that's like?

"Hello?" A voice echoed. Narinder's tail stands on edge. "Come forth; I am quite lonely."

Narinder couldn't see much with all the fog, but he limps forward. His injured right leg slides his foot through the dust.

It feels futile considering how far the figure seems and all the fog blocking his way. Mindlessly hopping to... something. What if he runs into the fabled Bishop of death? Or worse he could run into someone from the past, now coming to the conclusion that this is likely the afterlife.

This head tilts down lost in thought, but immediately the fog dispurses and he is left with a grandoulous sight.

A large chained wispy sheep stands with two armed panthers beside them.

They stand taller than any bishop Narinder had seen.

Their wool, long and misty, blends into the cloudy surroundings. As well as some of it resting on their face.

Their worn face. The creature's horns had wrapped so far back into their head that they extruded from their eye sockets. Black liquid stains the tips of their horns and their cheeks.

Narinder is shocked that the sheep can still smile after being in what seems to be a lot of pain.

Blood soaks the top of the creature's fleece, growing lighter with each descending layer. The blood sticks clumps of the tassles on their fleece together.

"Who are you?" Narinder asks.

"Nothing but a prisoner." They chuckle. "I have been incarcerated simply for living. Isnt that fun?" The prisoner tries to pull their binded hands together to their face, yet the chain holding them down prevents them.

The 'prisoner' continues on. "But unlike me, I believe you have a way out." They adjust themselves up straight as they were leaning down. "You can break from your own chains." The creature's ear flicks when the bells around their neck jingle.

Narinder narrows his eyes at the sheep. "Should this be spoken with... them here?" He points to the two panthers with weapons in their hands who have been trying to look like they werent listening.

"Don't worry about them." The sheep excessively shakes their wool, and a crown falls out. Narinder's eyes widen. They try to hold it in their bound hands. "A crown," they explain. "I smuggled it off one of the wardens here. It grants its wearer's wealthy and powerful abilities. Strong enough to slay any foe that comes across it."

Narinder's mind flashes to one of the bishop's crowns; though close, none of them looked like this.

"Though in my own efforts..." their smile still doesn't move. "I wasn't able to make it work."

The crown stares blankly into the literal white void.

There's an aura that extrudes from the crown. It's calling. Reverberating. Thumping like a song that begs to be heard.

The crown flies up from the sheep's black ichored hands and onto Narinder's head.

It phases through Narinder's entire being in waves. Igniting a flame in his body that waited to be lighted. Each of his three eyes glows in a red hue.

A fire engulfs his body, burning the old layer that was rotting away by time, replaced by a new, eternal form.

The rags on his body get burned off and replaced with white robes with red accents. A hood gets thrown over his head and his robe gown falls down to his ankles. The bloodied bandage on his thigh unwraps from him.

From the rebirth, the bandages turn into a dark red sash and wrap themselves around Narinder's waist.

And a tassled veil completes his new form.

Narinder, regaining consciousness, blinks. He sees with new eyes. Breathes new air. Lives a new life.

"...Oh how I missed my hands!" He stretches out his arms and starts bending his fingers around. He does this for too long, and the sheep clears their throat. Narinder gets pulled from his distraction.

"Injustice still runs rampant, and bending your hands isn't going to make their unjustness stop." Their smile strains in a failed attempt to hide their annoyance.

"Oh, sorry, my 'equal.'" Narinder does a bow. "I will serve your wishes well."

The crown on their head levitates and morphs into a scythe, and Narinder's eyes widen. They quickly cut in before the vessel starts to get distracted by more minuscule things.

"Crowns feed off devotion; devotion pours from followers," the sheep lectures before sheepishly adding in with, "Or that's what I've heard." They clear their throat, but before they could continue, a loud ring echoes in the distance. "Ah! The warden! You must go before they catch us!"

The sheep panickedly incantates.

The floor glows red, and before Narinder realizes it.

He's gone.

"I'm proud of the two of you's preformance this time." The two panthers run back to their spots.

The worshippers sigh as the ritual is finally concluded.

Most rookies would think that after the bishops leave, the ritual is over, but it's actually when the executioner leaves. Which almost had one of the less experienced their heads.

Tasked with corpse collection. One worshipper looks at the dead body in front of her. She bends down to pick up its head, but when she kneels, the summoning pedestal glows.

Before all whos near, the circle glows aggressively. Beaconing from the heavens and hells. The sacrificed's body gets pulled upright, standing, and its head falls back on his shoulders.

A red flame burns off what was, and Narinder stands with scythe in hand.

#borders by lambouillet #apersonsart #cult of the lamb #cult of the cat #cotl au #fanfic #cotl fanart #cotl fanfic #cotl narinder #cotl lamb #cotl toww

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frecklenog · 2 years ago

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as someone with a special interest in prosthetics, i absolutely love that finn is shown with multiple different prostheses throughout fionna and cake. main finn (who has a transhumeral amputation) has an everyday arm with three fingers (like the one he had in at, though it also has exposed sensor wires), an adventuring arm with a claw hand and a socket that covers and protects his residual limb (coupled with a spaulder, though that might be a more general thing), and an older arm that seems to have been a mix of the two, though with a more limited hinge joint at the elbow as opposed to what appears to be some sort of ball-and-socket-adjacent elbow. (i wonder how those work exactly… maybe they’re magnetic? or the everyday arm might have a hinge that connects to a pivot/swivel joint…)

but it’s not even limited to our main boy, because farmworld finn (who has a shoulder disarticulation) also has multiple arm attachments for various occasions!! he uses the classic claw/axe double feature for most of the episode, but the sword arm he was given by choose bruce hangs on his wall (pretty busted up and still connected to the humeral portion, indicating that he continued to use it and possibly still does from time to time), and of course the flamethrower!! (i wonder if he made it himself…)

#fionna and cake #finn mertens #finn the human #adventure time #fionna and cake spoilers #fac spoilers #f&c spoilers #farmworld finn #shut up emrys #prosthetics #[is autistic]

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strawberrystepmom · 3 months ago

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pairing: Thorkell x f!reader

word count: 4.6k

contents: NSFW. cw: significant age gap, mentions of violence and alcohol, time-period accurate misogyny/mentions of marriage, time-period inaccurate slang used. Size kink, hand job to completion (m!receiving), possessive language used by Thorkell toward reader including calling her "my wife", romantic smut with a lot of talking.

notes: this was a blast to write and i hope i did our big sturdy tree of a man the justice he deserves. this has been finished for a while but i actually added like 2.5k+ words to it so...yeah! <3

The winter of your village’s invasion has passed and given way to a glorious spring.

Not long after the first snowfall, the first pillaging occurred. At first they only took sheep and cows, sacking homes for necessary supplies including the meager weaponry farmers must have to keep their families and animals safe. They returned a second time after the snow had accumulated, invading during a storm to cover their tracks. Fluffy white filled in footsteps that could alert the evening watchmen and they came after nightfall to collect once again, dragging off more animals and some able bodied men to work for them.

The third time is when your father - the village leader - fell to his knees and pleaded with the band, including their leader. He offered them safety and warmth in the dead of winter in exchange for the safety of his villagers. They agreed to cease the violence and sacking as long as their demands and needs were meant.

Despite their presence things seem strangely peaceful. You believe most people have chosen to ignore the ever present threat as a means to stay positive.

Or they’ve opted to focus on talking about you and the task you’ve been personally assigned thanks to your father - attending the scariest man most of your fellow villagers have ever seen. The madman who is missing an eye and swings an axe nearly as high as the sun. The leader of the group that has decided they needed to be here to choke a trade route that leads to an enemy encampment.

“Thorkell?”

Water splashes around him when he turns to look at you. The candlelight is blazing, recently lit, shining over his shoulders and the definition of them. “Yes?”

Opting to gaze at the flame rather than what is so beautifully highlighted by it, you clear your throat to gather your courage.

“May I ask you a few questions?”

He sighs, which captures your attention. You look up to witness him bringing his hand up to cup his chin in a comically dramatic gesture for a man nearly too big for the washtub that was custom built to fit his excessively large frame.

“I tend to believe once a woman has seen the parts of you that you’re to hide with clothes that she can ask you anything.” You roll your eyes. He chuckles, pulling his eyepatch down and back over its empty socket for your comfort. “Speak freely. I won’t punish you unless that’s what you’d like to ask for.”

It pains you to laugh at him though it’s futile to stop yourself. He’s quite charming for a complete oaf, full of affection and brightness that many of his counterparts who scowl at you while you make your way into the quarters where your mother and father used to sleep that have now been commandeered by the visiting viking lack.

The only reason you’ve been coming for all of these months is to attempt to keep him happy to stave off attacks. You were given permission to do whatever is necessary by your father. Nothing uncouth has happened so far but the longer time has passed the more curious you find yourself becoming about the leader of the group specifically.

You believe you may have developed a bit of a fondness for him, as dangerous of a prospect as it is.

That very prospect has led you to believe that questioning him is the right way to change your feelings. Getting to know him will surely only grow the hatred time has doused. You simply need to remind yourself of how terrible he is and always has been.

Clearing your throat, you look up at him through your lashes to find him already gazing over at you, lazing about in his tub.

“Why do you fight?”

He sits up instantly, grinning. “Because there is little else to live for besides the thrill of battle.”

You cannot hide your dissatisfaction with the answer despite his glee, a sigh escaping.

“Yes, yes you’ve told me this more times than I can count. The thrill of battle, the spilling of blood.”

Fighting is wrong, a lesson you’ve been taught since you were old enough to remember. It’s wrong to harm others and certainly without reason. There’s no telling how many people Thorkell the Tall has harmed against this belief.

Part of you is sure he keeps a tally somewhere in his shockingly vacant head. He cannot hide how your frustration delights him so he spurs you on.

“Why do you believe we fight, young lady?”

Shaking your head, you toss a well loved linen cloth into the water. He scoops it up and wrings it out, placing it over his shoulder so it doesn’t float away.

“Thirst for blood trickles downward, my lord. They see how much you love it and it only makes them lust for a taste of it themselves.”

He tilts his head at you, touching his fist to his chest as though he’s touched by your words.

“You think me a lord?”

You snort humorlessly, tipping a little more water out of the bucket in your hands while daring to let your cheek rest against the lip of the tub, placing the bucket down next to your bent knees.

“My father has instructed me to regard you as one despite your presentation and I cannot defy.”

The Goliath grins at you, blonde facial hair damp with steam from the water you continue to pour into the wooden basin. “Ah, I always knew he was a smart man.”

Sighing and settling back into the water now that the temperature has risen, he opens his mouth to speak.

“It’s all I’ve ever known from the time I was a boy.” He closes his intact eye like he’s lost in a reverie. “The glory of victory and the bitter encouragement of defeat. I would be half a man without them even if you see it all as beneath you.”

The viking now makes a show of placing his hands on the back of his head, arms bent yet still so wide you almost collide with his elbow when it passes over your head just before you can duck.

“You mustn’t kill me or else you’ll have no chambermaid.”

Your tone remains flat though an amused smile rests across pretty lips dappled by fading candlelight.

The man laughs, it seems to be all he does whenever he’s in your company, cupping his hand to dip it beneath the water and scoop some over his head. Your eyes follow his every move, maintaining sight of his forearm and wrist, his thick fingers and the strands of blonde hair that flatten over his forehead while they’re wet. He pushes them back and they immediately fall forward again, an action that wins a giggle from you.

With a never fading smile, he repeats the motion. Pushing his wet strands back, sliding his hand across their surface, they rebel and return to their home across his forehead. He sighs in mock exasperation, hands no longer cradling his head but instead spread out far beyond the sides of the tub.

“Now you see why I must wear the headband.”

Why is there a swell of warmth in your chest over the boyish smile of this man over twice your age? It curls around your heart like the steam in the room and the smoke from that still fading candle.

This feeling is very inappropriate.

He’s a warlord who will likely conquer your village and overtake your father. He came here to inflict harm and to claim that which does not belong to him. Swallowing thickly, you sigh and further settle against the side of the tub. There is no response you can come up with to match his wit while hiding your true feelings so you rest a moment, dipping your fingers into the basin and wiggling them gently to warm them up although the room feels far from cold.

Silence never sits well with Thorkell, nothing but the splashing of water filling his ears. He wishes it were the music and liveliness of an inn, something your small village is missing, but he’ll take listening to you speak in lieu of such things.

“Do you know what your father told me about you the first day I met him?”

It was gracious he allowed you to enjoy the quiet for even a few minutes. You pretend to think about his question for a moment and then shake your head.

“Haven’t a clue.” A shrug, your shoulder lifting to your cheek. “Did he not offer marriage? My assumption has always been this is why he’s made me come and perform such uncouth tasks for you.”

Clearly you’ve piqued the man’s interest. He raises a blond brow. “No. Although if you believe he’d be willing t–” you shoot him a glance that makes him stop, his tongue stilling in his oversized mouth for just a moment before a sly smirk crosses his face.

“You know how much I like it when you get that fierce look in your eyes.”

You nod coolly despite the beating of your heart. He’s complimenting you? Admiring the tenacity you keep so well hidden beneath your smiles and obedience?

Thorkell liked you from the first time he encountered you, staring curiously at him from across the largest banquet table your people could find. You asked him no questions nor paid him any actual mind when he attempted to smile and raise a mug of ale in your direction, choosing to turn your attention to the children who misunderstood the excitement and celebrated the arrival of the people who may eventually raze the only home they’ve ever known once they no longer need it.

That was many moons ago, more than the warrior has bothered to continue to count. You came to his chambers that very first night to bathe him, as you were clearly instructed to do, silently and seething with rage. You could likely have concealed it from someone who had seen less of it but he knew instinctively, this man.

“Kill me if you must but I’d far prefer a kiss from one as fair as you,” he teased.

You dumped water over him with the same expression you wear now but you kept your eyes pinned to the wall instead of glancing at the nude man. Now this was greatly amusing to Thorkell. It also affirmed to him that he did not merely like you but found himself charmed by the lack of warm welcome and determined to bring back what he saw earlier that day sitting across from you.

In the present day, you aren’t bothered by the sight of his unfathomably large, muscled, scarred form nude. Or so you think until he does as he’s doing right this moment, stretching and spreading his long legs out and over the edge until water drips to the floor beneath them. His flaccid cock floats upon the water. You catch sight of it and look away quickly, backing away from the tub to grab the bucket and return to the stove for more hot water.

Thorkell stops you, reaching to place a hand over yours. His fingers curl around your hand and the handle of the bucket both. “He told me that you wished to someday leave this village.”

You hum, aware he regales all visitors with that tale in hopes one of them will take you off of his hands and alleviate the strain upon his stores and finances. Your father loves you, of course, yet things are only growing more and more strained as the Danes advance. The future has never felt more uncertain, yours or that of your entire family.

Even before the arrival of your unexpected visitors you longed to go. There’s another side of the landscape your eyes can make out yet you’ve never touched, further away than you can even consider walking by yourself. There are oceans and snow covered hills; grasslands and fertile soil and more than the simple rocky lowlands of your dreary homeland according to the stories the Northmen have told you. More than green, more than gray, more than any of us.

There’s a limitless world out there for those bold enough to take it.

“He told you the truth, Thorkell the Tall.”

The man chuckles, your sarcastic formality leaving him thrilled. His thumb rubs over the back of your hand and each of your knuckles.

You should rip yourself away from the touch of his hand, filthy bloodied paw that it is, yet you stay in place. The rapidly cooling water sloshes when he shifts, the room alongside it when Thorkell makes his way to the edge of the tub to lean over it and loom over you. The candlelight has grown down to a dim flicker, no longer bright enough to highlight his chest or the proof of prior battles that cross it.

Not that you need the reminder, you can conjure them on your own. Even in the dim light you see him looking at you, a handsome face beginning to be etched by the delicate lines of age with scars that match those on the rest of him nearly touching yours.

“I could take you out there to see it all,” he offers in his best attempt at a whisper. His voice still fills every corner of the room. You shake your head, wiggling your hand beneath his to try and loosen the grip.

“I cannot leave unless it’s with my husband.”

“Then I’ll talk to your father and arrange our marriage.”

That humourless laugh surfaces once again, your hand shaking beneath his.

“Will you take me by force if I say no, just as your men have done to many others?”

Thorkell chuckles, astute enough to tell that even if you mean to wound him, it’s merely a scratch. But if you want to play rough, he’ll play right alongside you.

He’s always carried an inkling you’d prefer it that way to begin with.

“It has never been I who has forced you to do things against your will,” he squeezes your hand and releases it with a mighty groan, shifting in the tub again so that his arms and head dangle over the edge.

It stings to recall that first night all those moons ago when you were forced to face this humiliation. To fill a basin for a man you saw as a predator felt like only staving off your own damnation, the ruination of farmlands and homes. A temporary means to an end.

That once venomously pervasive belief has softened over time and with the lack of aggression from the invaders toward your village.

You realize that while Thorkell is a bloodthirsty, senseless, loud brute he is intelligent. He can tell a story unlike any man you’ve ever met and his tales have always been fantastical. There’s a gentleness beneath his brash exterior, proven in the way he holds your hand not only right now but every other time he has. He hungers for more but don’t you do just the same, wishing to feel the grass of another pasture beneath your feet?

Sighing, you lean back against the side of the tub. The water must be cold now, the candle burned out completely leaving only moonlight to shine through the room though he makes no effort to take his leave. His cock floats ominously, his body relaxed and heavy beside you.

Would this man truly marry you to give you the life you seek?

“And how would you treat your wife, Thorkell the Tall?”

The water splashes while he lifts himself up to sitting, one arm remaining out of the tub so he can cup your shoulder in his large hand.

“Same as I treat all women,” he boasts as blunt as ever, gently shaking you which makes you laugh, attempting and failing to shrug him off.

You know he hasn’t taken a lover in your village since arriving, something many of the women have taken offense to despite their husbands if their incessant complaining in any indication.

“I’ve not heard any rumors of your treatment. Care to tell me more?”

Curiosity has always been your strength and weakness both. Fortunately, he’s eager to indulge you regardless.

“You’ve not heard a single tale about how the women weep when I leave their villages?” He chuckles, lowering his head so that it is over yours once again. “ ‘O Lord, please protect the heathen who showed me Your face while using his tongue’ they cry in the streets.”

You may be unwed but you are no fool and the innuendo is not lost on you. Your face runs hot though you can’t quite place why, chest squeezing.

“So you’ve had many women then?”

The older man smirks, droplets from his hair sliding into your lap and falling into the empty water bucket beside you.

“I’ve had my share,” he admits, hand sliding up your shoulder to wrap around the side of your neck and head. The delicacy of his touch sends a shiver down your spine, his thumb rubbing a small line across your throat. “Yet not one inspired me to claim her as my wife.”

Conquering is truly all he knows how to do, isn’t it? You scoff and Thorkell feels the vibration against his digit, removing and replacing it with his lips. He places a kiss against the hollow of your throat.

“Northman,” you warn, though the bite in your voice dies to find new life as a breathy sigh when he kisses your neck again. His facial hair scratches against your soft, unblemished skin causing goosebumps to sprout across it.

“Stop me then, sweeting.”

The term of endearment ensures that your head and heart are no longer communicating, thoughts slipping away like petals on the wind. Your body reacts instinctively to his touch, head tipping backward to allow him access to more. He chuckles against your skin, tongue now laving over the irritated skin left behind from his kisses and the scratch of his scruff.

“You didn’t answer my question,” you remind impatiently, air escaping your lungs in short puffs. “And I don’t wish to ask it again.”

His hand once again slides from your neck to your back, palm resting between your shoulder blades to pull you closer toward the tub and subsequently his insatiable mouth. It’s easy to forget how large he is yet right now it’s all you can think about - how engulfed you feel by his presence much less his hands.

“You’ve not let me finish,” he pokes right back in your direction. That large hand slides down your back, his long arm hardly stretching to reach your ass to cup it and give it a playful squeeze. You protest but realize it’s futile, raising yourself up slightly so he can slide his hand fully beneath the backs of your thighs. Thorkell smiles down at you, his other arm now dropped over the side of the tub to cup your chin alongside your behind.

“I cannot promise that I would be able to give my wife a life free from suffering,” he starts. ”I am a warrior. My call will always be to battle no matter how badly she may desire that another truth exists.”

Nodding is all you can manage, averting your eyes from him. Is it strange to find a man so much older and worn than you this handsome? Is there something wrong with you? With the heat in your veins and the throb between your legs?

Is it evil of you to crave to live this life with him? You can picture it - not here but far away, the vision of his homeland that his stories have created form the blurry outlines of the dream. Long after he’s taken you around the untamed and unowned world and shown you all it has to offer, every hilltop and cavern.

Questions and uncertainties rush by in your head, so quickly you can hardly make sense of them.

The warrior stares at you curiously, lifting your head to meet his eyes. You’ve chosen to let him finish uninterrupted and he takes advantage of it.

“I would give my wife my heart no matter how far the wind carries me from her side.”

Despite the creeping fears dwelling within your worried mind, you smile at him. It’s soft, even a bit tense, exposing that you are afraid to believe a dream as outlandish as this could come true. The ghost sensation of his lips across your throat returns and you reach for it, running the side of your index finger over the sensitive skin.

Thorkell realizes where your mind has gone and takes advantage, reaching for your hand and pulling it into the tub. You gasp as your sleeve soaks up a bit of the water, attempting to pull it back yet finding yourself unable to be free of his grasp. Keeping your eyes locked on him, you don’t dare look and see what he’s doing lest you react strongly and alert his men posted outside of the room.

When you touch something entirely unfamiliar that does not feel like water, you dare sneak a glance and gasp sharply upon realizing he’s flattened your palm across the width of his cock. He chuckles at you, molding your fingers around what he considers his most impressive weapon.

“And this would be all for my wife.”

Wrapping his hand all the way around yours, he squeezes and hisses at the softness of your skin. Your palm does not cover even half of his girth, fingers far from touching each other. There is no indication that you wish not to touch him so he continues on, using your hand to slowly stroke his shaft.

“I’d never take another lover if I had my wife,” he serenades you with a humorous note floating through every word, leaning over the tub to look you up and down with a grin. “Although I believe my wife may be a bit too small to take all of my cock.”

That same flushed feeling from earlier returns to your face, the ache between your legs encouraging your thighs to defiantly squeeze together to give you a bit of relief. He glides your hand smoothly from the bulbous tip of his head that leaks fluid he rubs back down the rest of him, thumb resting on the outside of your wrist to keep it steady. Breaths leaving him in soft pants that mirror your own, your brows knitting together when you mewl softly with need.

A mischievous light shimmers in Thorkell’s narrowed eyes now that you’ve openly displayed how his teasing makes you feel.

“I would like my wife to try, though,” he rasps, throat dry and blood rushing from his head to his painfully hard cock. “To try to take me.”

You didn’t need the clarification, still you nod and swallow. There’s no hiding from a direct conversation now. You’ve been confronted.

There remains a lingering concern that he doesn’t mean it though lust fogs your thoughts too strongly to make you really take a step back and consider if this is real. Your hand moves up and down his cock, his hips gently bucking up and into your fist while cool water splashes around his hips and onto your forearm.

“Would yo–would you do that for me?” He asks, grunting between each word. His complexion grows more pink with every passing second and you find it adorable that a man of his size flushes in such a manner when he’s being pleasured.

You gaze into the bathtub, able to barely make out the tinge of red from his throat clear down to the deep flushed pink of the head of his cock. It’s such a strong contrast to dark scars and honed muscle that you whimper again, biting your lower lip and resting your cheek against his fingers.

“Would I do what for you, Thorkell?”

An impure part of you likes to hear him speak in this way, especially about you. Your body. Your pleasure. The visiting invaders have never been shy about sex and their conquests, speaking about them in front of polite company like priests and women alike but you’ve never quite seen this side of the man next to you.

Thorkell only speaks of fighting. The yearning of his blade for blood is all you believed he was capable of feeling until this evening.

Now you see the man whose heavy, full balls slap against the bottom of your fist each time he thrusts upward to meet his stroke with your hand for who he really is. You see that his passionate blood runs hot for more than just battle just as he sees that you aren’t meant to be a shepherd’s wife.

“Stretch yourself upon my cock?” The words come through gritted teeth, his body tensing and voice doing the same. “Allow me to fuck you until even the gods know my name you’ve been shouting it so often?”

Lack of experience aside, you get the distinct impression that he is soon to lose his mind to his pleasure. His chest heaves and the water around him no longer ripples but behaves like a wave capped stormy sea with each determined thrust of his hips, his remaining eye shutting tightly.

“Yes,” you mutter.

Without further hesitation you reach into the tub and wrap your free hand around his and your other hands to increase the pressure of the grip on his shaft. He moans loud enough you know that the men on the other side of the door have to know what’s happening but you don’t care.

“Yes, if I am your wife I will let you take me however you like.”

The words leave you in an anxious jumble, your lower lip wet with saliva and eyes heavily lidded as though it hurts to open them fully in your aroused state.

“I will not merely allow you to fuck me Thorkell, I will beg you to.”

You pant, brows knit together expressing how painful the ache of your curious cunt has become. It would be a lie to say you are completely unfamiliar with your body, you’re aware of how to soothe this pain but both of your hands remain locked around him.

“There’s nothing I desire more than to feel you inside of me.”

One look at your face tells him that you mean it. It’s almost hilarious how wide your pupils are blown and how spit slicked your lower lip is from gnawing it like a starved beast. Thorkell doesn’t laugh though, he merely focuses on chasing the feeling in the lower half of his body.

“Then inside you I will be,” he assures, tipping his head back while his jaw slackens and falls open. His release spurts all over your hand with another mighty groan announcing its arrival, white coating your knuckles and the cuff of your shirtsleeve.

You let go of him, backing your top hand away slowly though the one around his shaft remains there locked in his grasp. Awkwardness keeps you anchored in place, patiently waiting for him to say something; anything.

“I’ll speak with your father in the morning.”

He rises from the water and you nod, eyes wide. He meant it? You may really someday learn what’s just beyond what your eyes can see?

Thorkell bends at the waist and holds onto the edge of the tub, staring down at you with that same grin he never quite conceals no matter what. He’s so good natured for someone so violent.

“Go lie down on the bed, my wife, and I will give you a taste of what’s to come.”

And who are you to say no? You scramble to your feet, holding your soiled hand out in front of you until you decide to simply wipe it on your skirt. No sense in feeling shame now, not while a very hungry predator stalks across the wooden floor, leaving a trail of droplets behind him.

#thorkell x reader #thorkell x you #vinland saga x reader #kendall writes

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undertheorangetree · 2 years ago

Text

The Last of the Dragons

Chapter One- The Consummation

Summary- With the Targaryen dynasty at risk, the last of the family must make unsavory decisions in order to ensure their reign continues.

Warnings- MDNI 18+ NSFW. Female reader. Angst. Politicking. Consummation of marriage with witnesses. Mentions of death. Trauma. Uncomfortable smut.

Author's Note- This first chapter is not very sexy!! There is (consensual) smut but it is not hot nor is it meant to be. The sexy smut will happen later. With that said, the link to the full chapter is below :)

series masterlist

When the dust settles around the Dance of the Dragons, she is the only member of her family still alive.

Her mother burned by dragonfire, her step father cut down on dragonback. Jace and Luke lay dead at the bottom of the ocean alongside Aegon and Viserys while Joffrey lay scattered across the streets of Flea Bottom. It is a reality she does not like to face and though she still has Baela, Rhaena, and their grandfather, she knows she is the last of her family line. The last of Rhaenyra's blood, the blood of the true heir.

It is that blood that damns her the moment Aegon is found poisoned, laying dead in his litter.

She had been spared alongside Baela and Rhaena, though she knew that was more so Corlys's idea than anyone else's. Aegon had demanded her head the moment he learned that it was she and Silverwing who had been responsible for Daeron's death but Corlys had managed to talk him down to simply keeping her as a hostage. He had argued that by having her bend the knee, it would show her mother's loyalists that he was the true king above all others, that her fealty had the power to stop Cregan Stark's march south and would calm tensions in the Riverlands and Eyrie. Aegon had agreed, though only after Alicent had prompted him to, and she had been spared from the executioner's block. Though as she sits at the small council table, staring at her last living uncle, she wishes Aegon had found the kindness in his black heart to swing the axe.

The Battle Above the God's Eye had left Aemond with another scar, this one having ripped through the flesh of his left shoulder and bicep. She wishes it crippled him further, that Daemon's final act managed to cut his arm from its socket, gouge out his last remaining eye and send him plunging into the depth of the God's Eye but other than a deep new scar, her step father managed little.

"Lord Corlys and I believe that it is important, especially now, to assure the smallfolk that this war is far behind us now. Aegon's death threatens the already fragile stability we have managed to find ourselves on," Alicent explains, though it is not directed at her. They had all been whisked away into the small council chambers less than a handful of hours after Aegon had been found dead and that grief is still present in Alicent. Her eyes are rimmed red- a common trait of hers now- and her voice is hoarse from crying, but she still manages to stay strong before the men gathered. She and Aemond had been ordered to sit in on the small council meeting but neither have been given leave to speak. They sit silently, waiting for the moment that deemed their appearance here necessary as Alicent turns to her grandfather. "Which is why we have come to a kind of agreement."

"We want the Iron Throne to remain in Targaryen hands just as fervently as all others here and with the death of our king so fresh, it is of the utmost importance that we find a suitable heir quickly. One that puts both the Blacks and the Greens at ease and prevents a continuation of the war," Corlys says, fingers pushing at the small ball that rests before him.

When the two of them had the time to discuss a potential heir, she has no idea, but perhaps it is a blessing that they had. With Aegon and all his children dead, there are few options left for the throne. She knows in her heart that she is the legitimate heir, being the only one left who has Rhaenyra's blood running through her veins, but she is a woman. After all that has happened, only a fool would attempt to crown her. The same could be said for Baela and Rhaena, though their claims are not as strong as her own. That left Aemond, a man, but widely hated for all he had done throughout the war.

They are damned regardless of who is chosen, the risk of further rebellion at every turn. She does not pity the remnants of this council for the choice they must make now. The realm rests on the shoulders of the six people left in this room and that is a burden she would not want to carry.

"And you have an idea as to who the most suitable heir would be, my lord?" Lord Larys asks. Though he sits at the table, he is not truly facing it, leaning on the cane in his hands. She turns her head to look at him, his eyes wide with his question, and feels her stomach turn at the mere sight of him, their master of whisperers.

Corlys looks toward Alicent, waiting until she gives the faintest nod of her head before speaking again. "My granddaughter, the princess, is Rhaenyra's last surviving child. Aemond is the last surviving child of King Viserys and acted as Aegon's regent for more than half his reign. The dowager and I propose that we unite house Targaryen once and for all and have the two wed to serve the realm as king and queen, like the Old King and Good Queen Alysanne. Equal in power, so as to bring all this unrest to an end."

Read the rest here :)

Taglist- @ammo23 @bellstwd @kckt88 @aemondsbabygirl @shygardengalaxy @duds31 @at-a-rax-ia @ladymarg0t @queenofshinigamis @drakar-i @cl-0-vr @castellomargot @moonlightfoxx @ladybug0095 @marihoneywk

#Aemond targaryen x reader #Aemond x reader #Aemond targaryen x you #Aemond x you #Aemond targaryen x fem!reader #aemond x fem!reader #aemond x niece!reader #aemond targaryen x niece!reader #aemond targaryen #aemond smut #Aemond targaryen smut #house of the dragon #house of the dragon fanfic #hotd #hotd fanfic #hotd x reader

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gremlin-girly · 2 months ago

Text

Bearskin

Pairing: Curtis Everett x f!reader

More Author's Notes at the end.

Anyway, thank you everyone who partook in Friday and Saturday's Pick Your Fic polls - Sunday's is open here.

Tags/Warnings: slow burn, Arranged Marriage, angst and fluff!, this is a medieval/viking AU - look I didnt really do much past researching old huts and some traditions haha, arranged marriage, emotional intelligence of a brick!Curtis, self-deprecating talk, curtis being brooding, but that's also for plot, you’ll see, attempts at seduction, sexual content mention (but nothing happens in this part sorryyyy), reader is just a horn-dog xoxo

Not beta'd. I do not give permission for my work to be reposted, copied, translated or put through an AI machine. All of my work is 18+ so read at your own risk x

Summary: Being married off to the rivalling villages chieftain, securing a peace treaty for your people, you believe that all is well and good until you realise that he's not interested in you.

Word Count: ~5k

Divider @/lunaridae

Navigation | Masterlist | Curtis Everett Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2

The way he'd walked into the food hall had you captivated.

Confident but not arrogant, bloody, dirty and a face set in stone with eyes that shone like jewels in their sockets. He wore leathers and furs laden with weapons; and axe and a multitude of knives. The most prominent article of clothing was the bearskin he wore.

Rumour had it that when lost in the harsh wilderness after a battle, he had killed a bear and hidden inside it, skinning it's fur the following morning to stay warm as he ate the flesh over a fire.

That rumour alone was enough to terrify most other village chieftains into submission. But not all. He was a fierce fighter, a brilliant strategist. Up until four days ago he'd bested you father's men at every turn and hadn't lost a single soldier, prompting your father to call a truce as he reconsidered where his alliances truly lay as chieftain of a much smaller village.

You shifted nervously in your chair watching him approach. He was big, tall and broad and you could feel your heart begin to to prepare for a hundred metre dash. Exhaling slowly and quietly to compose yourself, you kept your head held high as your father did the song and dance of welcoming Curtis and his village people to the celebration, reminding yourself that this was your idea. For the sake of your people.

"Today is an important day in our history. Today, we welcome Curtis and his people as if they were our own. Today we celebrate the unification of our villages."

Curtis stopped before your father but didn't bow and for one dreaded moment you think there may be a massacre. However, he nods his head before turning those beautiful eyes onto you. As if on cue, you rise before him, smoothing the creases your white marital gown away and smiling shyly.

His eyes don't leave you as you step away from your place next to your father, clutching a thin circlet made of woven twigs with crocuses of white and purple slipped between them. You present it to Curtis who, without taking his eyes from you, takes the circlet in his large hands and places it delicately onto your head.

The room erupts into cheers and applause. Congratulations are thrown around and Curtis recieves many a slap on the back and handshake while you are fussed over by your friends and the ladies who you will now call your family.

"Curtis is a good man," one of them says.

"I'm so envious!" Another giggles.

The next few hours are a blur; drinking, dancing and feasting. The acceptance of your circlet was the acceptance of you as a bride, as a wife. Your life would change dramatically up north; longer winters in strange lands, new customs to learn, old customs to share.

His hands were warm and soft as they slipped a silver ring onto your hand and vowed to keep you safe and you'd smiled as you promised to care for him in return, slipping a matching silver ring onto his hand. The cheers and whoops from the crowd as he cupped your cheek with one of those warm hands to press a kiss against your lips rang in your ears. A morning proposal, an afternoon wedding and a celebration that lasted well into the night.

As you danced and sang around the fire with your friends for one final night, you can feel Curtis' eyes follow you and when you do catch him looking, you flash him a smile. Only for him to look away.

"Your new husband is handsome." One of your friends giggles. "And his eyes have been on you all evening."

"Here's to hoping you're not left disappointed tonight." Another slurs, raising her tankard, which you quickly steal from her and hush her.

"Not so loud!" You giggle before entertaining the thought. "He doesn't look like he'd disappoint."

"Hrm." The first friend says again before goving you a sly grin. "Don't bears mate for three months? And it's loud and savage?"

The group bursts into laughter when you hide your face in embarassment, quickly shushing each other as Curtis approaches. He's still stoic. You'd only caught a few wisps of a smile throughout the day but he looks almost uncomfortable as he stands before you and your friends. You take the hand he offers as you get to your feet and he nods at your friends.

"I'm sorry I have to steal her away." He says.

"We're surprised you didn't do it sooner." Your drunken friend teases and you smack at her playfully, guiding Curtis towards your hut.

"I'm sorry about them." You tell him, looping your arm through his. You can help the excitement your feeling, the tension, how he's been looking at you. Your insides curl with anxiety; tonight was the mark of a new beginning. Your people would be safe, your friends and family too, and you had a husband who was, at least the very least, attractive.

You chuckle as Curtis has to duck through the doorway as he enters your hut, his massive figure blocking the light of the moon as you try to light some candles.

The curtains that acted as your door billowed behind him as you dusted off your bed, a raised stone slab with a straw mattress and pillows with animal fur covers. You knelt awkwardly, peering up at him as he sat next to you, trying to look seductive. He jumps when you run your fingers across the width of his shoulders and you murmur a quiet apology as you move closer to his lips.

"You don't-" he breathes. "We don't have to. We're up early tomorrow."

You blink at him. Was this a test? A joke?

He was your husband! You knew what should be happening on your wedding night. In fact, you'd been looking forward to it since laying your eyes on Curtis this morning.

"I want to." You tell him but he clears his throat and stands suddenly.

"I'll help you pack."

"You'll what?"

Curtis heads to your clothes chest and opens it. "Help pack. You have space for winter clothing - that's good."

You're baffled. You don't know what to do other than awkwardly bring him trinkets and some of your crafts. He doesn't speak much other than complimenting your craftsmanship on your embroidery but even after you've finished packing, he's not interested in the consumation of your marriage.

"Husband?" Your voice wavers with nerves watching him stoke the fire in the centre of the room. "Are you alright?"

"'M Fine. You should get some rest." He doesn't look at you now and you sit on your bed confused and slightly affronted that he won't cast a glance your way.

"Okay... well, goodnight."

"Goodnight."

The next morning, you're too embarassed to tell your friends the truth before you leave. You let them think that you've throughly enjoyed your wedding night, lest they worry like you are. You ride a horse alongside Curtis, wrapped in furs, waving goodbye to your old life as you set off with your new husband and new people, wondering if things will get better.

On your journey to your new home, Curtis and you shared a tent at night but he continued to refuse letting his, or your, hands wander. He'd keep you close for warmth, and you'd let yourself indulge in the smell of him. He smelled like conifers and ash; a sweet and deep musk that, once you collapsed into the furs of your new bed late afternoon four days after your wedding, you fell straight to sleep almost immediately after lying face first in the furs.

On your journey, and within your first few days, you'd befriended a woman named Tannya and her son as they seemed closest to your husband other than Edgar who was his second in command. You'd hoped they could offer some insight into your new husband, perhaps even explain his strange behaviour.

They spent more time with him than you did after all.

Since arriving back at his village, Curtis had practically ignored you. He would bring you food but not eat with you, sleep next to you only when he thought you were asleep... You couldn't help but get the feeling your husband was actively avoiding you.

"Curtis is... Curtis." Tannya shrugs over at you as she cuts open a rabbit carcass to remove the offal and internal meat. She'd instructed you to wash the skins but you were in awe of her resourcefulness.

As your husband was almost always busy with everything but you, Tannya had been a saving grace from keeping you from going insane. You had watched her set traps the eve before and had attempted to make one yourself; before it collapsed in on itself.

"That's helpful." You sigh. "What about his favourite food? Maybe I should try to make it for him."

"His favourite food?" Tannya pauses her cutting and grins over at you, and you give her a small, sheepish smile. She shakes her head and resumes cutting. "That would be sweet. No wonder he's smitten with you."

"He is?" You couldn't stop the question before it flew out of your mouth. Even in your first week in your new home, you know that Tannya isn't one to lie. So it was odd for her to say something so entirely contradictory.

"Pssht. It's written all over his face." Tannya waves her knife as she speaks, looking at you incredulously. "Always looking at you, worrying about the celebrations... You know he even asked for extra blankets in your hut just in case the cold was too much for you?"

You look at her for a moment and consider her words, chest warming to the notions of Curtis' alleged affections. He was never looking at you when you looked his way but then, you supposed, that was the point. Perhaps courting was different in the north? Perhaps your husband was shy?

"Extra blankets?" You can feel the ghost of a smile tug the corners of your lips, recalling your second morning in your new hut.

At night, Curtis still slept beside you and thankfully so because heat rolled from his body like an open bonfire. However in the morning, after leaving you to sleep to run errands, he'd caught you shivering as you entered the living area and had silently shrugged off his bearskin to wrap around your shoulders. You'd been surprised at the gesture but thanked him (earning you a grumbled response) before he'd disappeared again. You'd thought he'd been annoyed but now, knowing he'd fretted about more blankets for you, relief and hope surged in your veins. You may be able to win over your husband after all.

"He can take some getting used to. Don't worry you have the rest of your life to understand him." Tannya continues unperturbed, offering a motherly smile that comforts you from the inside out. "I'll show you how to make his favourite dish after we finish up and you can serve it for him tonight. In a few days when you're more settled I'll take your measurements for your second ceremony dress."

"Second ceremony?"

"You had a southern wedding now you'll have a northern." Tannya says plainly. "Not everyone was able to make it for your first one, myself and Timmy included. It'll be a rite of passage as our new chieftainess."

You nod vigorously, the weight of Tannya's words sinking in. Your rite of passage. It was more responsibility than you ever expected to have and yet you welcomed it with open arms.

The stew had been simple enough to make and you'd tried to inconspicuously smuggle it back to your hut to surprise Curtis, only to be stopped by about five villagers who all wanted to ask you the same questions on how you'd found your trip and how you were settling in.

By the time you'd managed to get back and set the food above the fire pit, you only had thirty minutes of pottering and preparing before Curtis appeared.

"Smells good," He murmurs, setting his axe down against the bedroom entryway as you dish up hot stew and place it on and already-set table.

"I was thinking we could..." you wring your hands bashfully. "Eat. Together."

Curtis raises an eyebrow but grunts with a nod, taking a seat opposite you, and tentatively poking at his stew with his spoon. He raises it slowly, almost as if he's waiting for it to stop steaming. You watch with baited breath as he takes a bite, the silence between you intense. He looks up at you to see you watching him and his ears go pink, his eyes drop to the stew again.

"How is it?" You ask, feeling silly for sounding so eager, so desperate to hear his praise.

"Good." He says around another mouthful but he says nothing more. After a few beats you sit back in your chair and poke at your stew before taking a few mouthfuls of your own.

"How were things today?" You ask casually. "Any progress on the second well?"

"Mm." Curtis nods again, not looking up. "Progress is going well."

"Oh, good."

Silence falls between you, the only sound in your home the clanking and scraping of spoons against bowls. You chew at your lip. This had been better than it had been and you didn't want to push your luck. However, after a few beats Curtis speaks up again.

"How are you settling in? How's my... how is the hut? I tried to make it ... nicer for you."

If you didn't know any better you'd say your grizzly of a husband was flustered. You look up over your spoonful of stew and can make out heated, red flesh peeking over his beard and your heart jumps for joy.

The hut itself was... basic. Threadbare of almost anything apart from furniture and the odd trinket but the last thing you want to do is be insulting.

"It's lovely." You half-lie.

Curtis allows a ghost of a smile to pass his lips before looking serious again. "Tannya tells me it needs a woman's touch."

You bite your lip trying to force your chuckle back down your throat. Was that an joke? From Curtis?

"I mean, well -" you're smiling into your stew, and when you glance up again you can see Curtis is smirking slightly.

His eyes lock with yours and you see him stiffen again. Your heart thuds anxiously as he breaks your gaze and move to get up, the warmth that had started building between you dissipated.

Curtis moves around to your side of the table and reaches for your bowl. He's still not looking at you but his intention to clear away doesn't go amiss.

"What are you doing?" You ask staring up at him, daring him to look at you for more than ten seconds. "Go sit down."

"Let me -" He purses his lips slightly and tries again. "You cooked. I should-"

You rise to your feet, moving your bowl out of his reach and fixing him with a smirk. Holding out your free hand parallel with his broad chest, you insist he hands over his bowl.

"Let your wife spoil you once and a while." You tease softly as he begrudgingly hands you his bowl. The redness on his cheeks returns and his chest heaves but he says nothing. "You can help with clean up next time."

Curtis looks at you skeptically. There's a moment where he brushes past and you think he might kiss you but he steps back as soon as the thought pops into your head.

You expected Curtis to grunt and venture forth into the village to do some more chieftain errands as usual, however, he surprises you by hovering silently beside you. He watches you clean the bowls and utensils, dry them with a cloth and put them away without saying a word.

"Thank you for the food." He grumbles quietly, looking at his feet. "It was...delicious. How did you know it was my favourite?"

"I asked Tannya." You grin over at him proudly. "She showed me how to make it so I can cook into for you more often."

He makes a grunt of approval and nods his head. "Thank you."

Your smile stays in place. "It's nothing. Are you coming to bed?"

You catch a glimmer of panic in Curtis' blue eyes before he shakes his head. "Erm, no - not... not yet."

"Then I'll see you in the morning. Wake me if you need anything." You say gently, weaving past him to prepare yourself for bed.

The following day goes by without so much as a breeze of cold air and you decide that you would brave the elements a little longer and go for a walk, familiarising yourself with the great unknowns of your new village.

You’d been introduced to most of the villagers so you knew roughly where each person lived and Tannya had shown you some of the best places to catch rabbits, however, you were yet to brave the forest.

The pine trees that resided on the outskirts your newfound home are tall and dense. Wildflowers sprout haphazardly like a border and, as you approach, you can hear the squeals of joy from the children. You realise that they must come out of the village to play; out of the way of the adults who are working and away from fretting mothers so that they may carry out their adorable schemes and fantasies.

Walking as quietly as you can through the trees, you try to spot the children and catch a gaggle of them running not more than twenty-feet in front of you. You dive behind a thick trunk and peek out trying to make sense of the game they're playing when your husband's hulking form comes into view.

You shrink back instinctively against the bark, hoping you aren't caught - but Curtis seems preoccupied with playing with the children. Curiosity keeps you from calling out to reveal yourself; watching the children ready themselves then darting in a myriad of directions with giggles of joy as Curtis gives chase, purposefully jogging after them to let them get a head start.

You continue to watch hoping to catch a glimpse of a true smile. You had yet to catch Curtis smile properly and you knew that seeing him play with the children would be your best chance.

When he managed to get a hold of one child, the others surrounded him, grabbing at his legs and jumping onto his back until he yielded with a laugh.

Enthralled, you began to smile at the scene before you; heart swelling at the thought of him playing like this with your children. You bit back a chuckle when you envisioned him hiding behind a tree, broad shoulders sticking out as clear as day from either side, making your children squeal with laughter.

Would he love them even if he didn't love you? Or would he have no interest and leave them in your stead only? From what you'd seen, you could only surmise that he would be an excellent father to your children, regardless of his feelings towards you.

That was, if he ever decided to have children with you. Being with child meant having sex and Curtis, even after warming up to speaking a few sentences to you the last two weeks, still didn't want to bed you.

You remained rooted to your hiding spot watching your husband and the children play; clinging to a daydream where you pretended to have something wonderful and romantic with the chieftain of the north.

You considered for a moment asking Curtis to take you to play with them sometime but thought better of it when you realised that he would siphon that task to Tannya or another villager, leaving you right back where you started.

Instead, you opt to keep your daydream of false domesticity to yourself, and watch the children tackle Curtis to the ground with cries of victory.

Tannya had told you that there was no point in cooking as that evening marked two whole weeks since your marriage to Curtis and the villagers had insisted on a dance and small celebration.

"Is this my second celebration?" You asked her in a hushed tone, helping to carry a dish of berries to one of the tables.

"Goodness no." Tannya clicks her tongue setting her bowl down. "You need a new dress and the decorations aren't even finished! We're all just impatient."

You chuckle and continue to run errands in preparation for the evening, desperate not to be useless and to prove to your village that you're happy to help.

By sunset, the clearing is alight with music, drinks and dancing. You skulk around the edges of conversation and sip at your tankard, keeping an eager eye out for Curtis. You almost don't hear someone calling for you over the chatter.

"Chieftainess!"

You look around wildly, before your eyes settle on an old man who is waving his walking stick at you. Approaching with a beaming grin, you take the seat next to Gilliam, one of the elders.

"Gilliam," you address him sweetly. "How are you finding tonight? Is your tankard full?"

Gilliam guffaws and bangs his stick on the ground. "Tonight is wonderful - and yes of course it is. The children are keeping me topped up."

There's a slight slur to his words and his devious smirk makes you giggle. You knew that he was a surrogate father to Curtis, a wise man who in his old age, had become a loyal advisor.

"How has your first two weeks been?" He asks curiously. "I trust Curtis is making you feel at home?"

"Of course." You lie through a smile. "When he's not so busy."

Gilliam grins wickedly. " Maybe if he stopped bragging to everyone how great you are, he'd be able to. 'My wife did this', 'my wife did that', 'my wife made my favourite'..."

You frown gently, your heart aching in your chest. Gilliam wouldn't lie for the sake of it, you were sure of it but this didn't sound at all like the Curtis you knew, the one you lived with.

Catching your confused expression, Gilliam frowns at you instead. "You don't believe me do you?"

It's not a loaded accusation; more curious.

"I... well, Gilliam, I do live with him." You chuckle but your smile doesn't reach your eyes and Gilliam notices. He nods slowly, eyebrows raised in surprise.

"Ah, of course," he clears his throat. "Tell me what do you talk about when you're together?"

A flush snakes it's way to your cheeks. Do you tell him that you and Curtis still haven't consummated your marriage? That Curtis, even on a good day, barely speaks to you?

"Not much... if anything at all." You sigh softly, playing with your hands in your lap. "If we eat together, it's in silence. He usually continues running errands or waits until I go to bed to eat."

You wring your hands, unsure if you should continue. "I know it's because he's the chieftain. He has a lot of responsibility too. I don't want to sound selfish."

"Ah, I see." Gilliam hums thoughtfully.

"Did he have a wife before? Have I done something to offend him?" You blurt suddenly, looking to Gilliam desperate for answers to your husband's behaviour. No one ever warned you your husband wouldn't be interested in you.

Gilliam snorts and offers you his hand, which you take diligently, and he closes his other wrinkled palm over it. "Come closer."

You lean in close and feel like a child again, listening to one of your father's fables.

"Believe me or not," Gilliam scoffs. "That boy loves you."

You want to laugh at how Gilliam calls Curtis boy so easily, as if he isn't a mass of muscle and bone, but you only tilt your head slightly as if you can't quite understand him, tears prickling at the edges of your vision as you whisper back.

"My husband doesn't love me." As soon as you say it it's like all the air has gone from your lungs and more words begin to rush out. "I don't know what I've done to make him so indifferent towards me nor do I know how to fix it." You hiccup quietly, smearing tears angrily across your face with your free hand. "You say he says these things but he doesn't say them to me."

Gilliam looks at you pleadingly, squeezing your hand. "He does. And to answer your question from before, he's never had a wife before you. He's never courted anyone before you either."

That small piece of information pulls you from your tears and you sniff, brows furrowing at Gilliam. "Him? Never?"

Gilliam shakes his head, clearly trying not to smile. "Too many things to do as chieftain. To many battles. Too busy." He raises an eyebrow at you. "And suddenly he has secured peace with one village and acquired a bride."

You slump back into your chair, shocked.

"Hmph." Gilliam huffs smugly. "He's still acting like a fool, though. How can you not know how to treat a beautiful woman?" He shakes his head before nodding firmly at you. "When you get him behaved, bear-tamer; bring him to me so I can hit him with my stick."

Through your tears you snort a laugh and begins to giggle at the image. Gilliam pats your hand and chuckles with you before beginning to recount tales of Curtis as a young boy.

Gilliam is halfway through a tale of Curtis catching a ferocious boar, at which you're half in hysterics, when the man himself appears.

"Ah, Curtis." Gilliam says fondly. "I was just telling your wife about Hamhock the Terrible; you almost missed the best part."

Curtis' lips twitch. "You're trying to embarass me in front of my wife, old man?"

Gilliam chortles and stage-whispers over to you, "He's still very touchy about being dragged across the forest floor by that pig."

You try to hide your snort behind your hand but you can't quite manage it thanks to the alcohol.

"I suppose you've come to steal your wife for a dance?" Gilliam continues, raising a brow at Curtis.

"If that's alright?"

"Why are you asking me?" Gilliam huffs, shooting you a mischievous wink.

"I - erm - w-would you-" Curtis shuffles awkwardly as you rise to your feet.

"Of course." You tell him, sparing him the awkwardness, pressing a kiss to Gilliam's cheek before following Curtis. "Thank you for your company Gilliam."

"Anytime, chieftainess. Anytime." He wiggles his walking stick. "And remember what I said!"

Cheers erupt over the music as you and Curtis rejoin the throng of the party and you want to rejoice at the feeling of belonging surging in your veins. But before you can, the music starts up again and Curtis gives you no warning as he sweeps you - quite literally - off your feet.

In a surprise to absolutely no one, Curtis has two left feet. He spins you away and tugs you back towards him almost tripping over himself in the process. You start to giggle and as you're tugged square into his large chest and look up to see that Curtis is grinning down at you. A real, genuine smile that makes heat rush to your cheeks.

The music slows and Edgar's shout of "kiss! " creates an echo around the clearing where everyone is dancing. You can feel the eyes of the villagers on you as they chant and you smile nervously before glancing to Curtis, who furrows his brows slightly, then dips his head slightly before stopping, lips gently parted. You're just beginning to wonder what he's doing before he dips his head lower and brushes your lips with his. The kiss is just like it was on your first wedding night; tender and gentle. His beard is soft, wisps of hair tickle at your skin and you smile against his lips.

Joyous cries from the crowd thrum in your ears and when Curtis goes to pull back, you follow him, pressing yourself against him as your hands come up to cup his face. He, surprisingly, allows it and very quickly mimics your action; cupping your face and pulling you close before releasing you with gentle pants of breath.

Edgar smack Curtis' back and envelopes you in a tight hug, welcoming you and gushing about how excited he is for the second ceremony. Some of the women hurry to your side with Tannya, pulling you away from Curtis to ask you about your homeland, how you'd like your new dress to look, what flowers you'd like in your hair. You quickly realise that this celebration was a test to see if the villagers, and Curtis, approved of you; and you were thankful that they had.

With one longing glance back at your husband, you were ushered away, leaving Curtis to watch you smile and laugh from afar.

Hours later, you're cuddled up with Timmy next to a fire, exhausted from drink and dancing. Timmy's idly drawing a few sketches of the villagers as you tell him fables from your homeland albeit slightly slurred. The party had died down, with most villagers heading to their homes and packing away food to stop it spoiling.

Curtis appears in your peripheral and you turn to look up at him, Timmy following suit when he hears you utter your husband's name. Curtis eases into a squat beside you both, close to you for once, and asks what you're up to in a hushed tone that makes you want to melt into him.

"The chieftainess is telling me stories." Timmy says with quiet glee, cuddling into your shoulder. "She's a good story teller."

He yawns loudly and rubs at his eyes, causing you and Curtis to chuckle at the same time before sharing a shy glance at the other.

"I think someone needs his rest." You say softly and Timmy grins sheepishly up at you. "Come on, let's find your mama and get you to bed."

"Not one more?" Timmy pleads and Curtis answers for you.

"You can have more tomorrow I'm sure." Curtis glances at you again, this time with a small smile. "I'm sure the chieftainess wouldn't mind?"

Your stomach flips. Had dancing together changed his demeanour? Or the kiss? Or was it the alcohol? Either way, it was a welcomed change.

"Of course!" You say looking back to Timmy. "But I need you well rested to be able to pay attention. Got it?"

Timmy nods and rubs at his eyes as Curtis straightens and offers both of his large hands to you and Timmy, pulling you to your feet with ease.

After handing Timmy back to his mother, you and Curtis head back to your own hut. From the night's events and yesterday's stew, you hoped that maybe tonight you'd be able to finally consumate your marriage. That you'd curried enough favour with Curtis for him to begin to accept you willingly into his bed, rather than just a woman to share it with.

"Would you like me to draw you a bath?" You ask once inside. "Fetch any beer?"

Curtis shakes his head. "No. You may head to the bedroom if you so wish, you've had a busy day."

Your heart jumps. Was that an offer? You dip your head and enter the bedroom, stripping quickly out of your dresses to freshen up. Gentle dabs of rosewater against your skin. You wait and wait until your eyes grow heavy, naked under the blankets.

When Curtis finally appears in the doorway, you immediately perk up. He shrugs off his furs as he approaches the washing bowl, splashing water onto his face to clean away the day's grime and the night's joy. He hears you shift under the blanket and turns slightly to look at you, legs bare and hair slightly tousled from where you'd been restless with nerves, thin blanket covering your thighs and chest. He immediately turns back to the water bowl.

"Thought you'd be asleep."

"I was waiting for you."

"Why?"

Your stomach flips and heat rushes to your cheeks. Did you really have to spell it out for him?

"I thought... we would be..." You drop your gaze to his feet, clearing your throat in the hopes you would loosen the words free. "That perhaps I may... service you."

Curtis stiffens. You peek up through your lashes, hopeful, but he doesn't turn around. The muscles of his back are tight and there's an angry red flush creeping up the back of his neck. Your eyes roam his figure, unsure of where to begin; battle-scarred back, broad shoulders... your mind boggled at thoughts of other places you'd longed to see and kiss that you almost miss his growl.

"Service me?"

"Yes." You say, a little more confidently. Perhaps this was a game. You'd heard that some men liked it when women were confident in telling their husband what they wanted. "To get on my knees and-"

"No."

You blink in surprise. Surely, you misheard. His growl seemed like he was excited - you'd misread the situation entirely. Again. "Chieftain, wha-"

"I said no." Curtis snaps and you feel your heart drop to your stomach. With a sigh, Curtis turns on his heels to leave the room. "I'll let you get to sleep."

Tears prickle your vision and you don't quite stop the first sob that makes its way out of your mouth. Your stomach churns with the nauseating embarassment of being turned down, and your heart aches to be back in your village, in your own bed. You made a mistake. This was somehow worse than letting your village fall victim to his wrath.

You sob and sniff quietly as you find your nightdress and pull it on, crawling back into the warmth of the blankets and curling into a ball. You could understand if he wasn't in the mood, but this seemed more like he hated you. That he wasn't attracted to you. That you were ugly; especially when paired with the fact he wouldn't even cast a glance your way.

Your body shudders as tears stain your pillow. You're so small in the large bed, surrounded by the scent of your husband in a cruel taunt, huddled as far to the bed's edge as you possibly can be.

What had you done to make him hate you? You thought, you stupidly thought, that tonight would be different; after the dancing, the kiss, the tender moment when he'd come to get you and Timmy. Evidently, he remained steadfast in whatever ploy it was to torment you.

Wallowing in your heartache and embarassment, you made the quiet vow to not act like a wife again. If you were just there as a token of a truce, regardless of what Gilliam and Tannya said, then that's all you would be to Curtis.

Part 1 End

A/N: This took so long. It's the longest fic I've written in one go and I had to split it into two parts while editing and you'll be pleased to know I fell asleep editing this 🙂‍↕️. A labour of love indeed! Idk why Curtis' parts always end up in 2s...maybe he's my fave. Who knows.

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#gremlin girly writes #curtis everett #curtis everett fanfiction #curtis everett snowpiercer #curtis everett x reader #curtis everett fanfic #curtis everett x y/n #curtis everett x female reader #curtis everett x you #chris evans characters x reader #chris evans character fanfiction #chris evans curtis everett #au: bearskin

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anger-sama · 1 year ago

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UNKNOWN HORROR Part 2 Made By Anger-Is-Flawed

Dream went back to get his stuff ready and the other two came in and asked what he’s up to. Dream says nothing and says he’ll be back soon. As soon as Dream made it to the destination, Nightmare appeared and saw an easy opportunity to take out his brother for good. Nightmare quickly attacked Dream without warning, but Dream dodged swiftly. They started their battle and it lasted for a while. Nightmare suddenly took a couple hits from Dream’s arrows. Nightmare was now on the floor weakened and struggling to move from the light arrows. Dream prepared his next shot to strike Nightmare down. Before that could happen, Horror took his chance and striked Dream on the back of his head with the blunt side of his axe. Now it was just them two. Horror slowly made his way towards Nightmare to finish him off. Nightmare threw his tentacles at Horror. His tentacles were slower than usual, so Horror could dodge them easier. Horror jumped onto Nightmare and shoved his hands into Nightmare's body. He finally found his soul and pulled it out of his body. Horror took one last look at Nightmare before shoving Nightmares soul into his mouth. Nightmare's body slowly disappeared and Horror teleported, leaving Dream’s body there. Ink and Blue finally make it and quickly go to his aid. Horror makes it to his room and falls to his floor. His body starts stretching and his hand begins to change shape. Drool-like corruption begins to flow out his mouth and nightmares eye forms on his vacant eye socket. Dust and Killer come inside Horrors room and ask where Nightmare is. Horror slowly turns to them and they both instantly go on the offense and attack Horror. After a little bit of fighting, the other two fall on the floor and Horror looks over them. Horror tells them he doesn’t want to kill them yet and he has a plan for them. He calls in Insanity and surprisingly, he comes inside immediately. Killer looks shocked and Dust looks confused. Horror tells them that Insanity will be working with them from now on. Horror immediately sends them on a mission to take out a sans in a random AU. While they do that, Horror makes his way to low level AUs to feed on. Horror would kill and devour one monster and let their friends and family suffer and feed off the negativity. Horror continues to do this until everyone in the AU is gone. He would do this to many other AUs to satisfy his hunger while the other three went to complete the mission. Going through different AUs, he would find different variants of Nightmares and defeat each one. When he devours one, an eye would sprout from his tentacles. While he was doing that, the trio was busy trying to complete the mission they were given. Suddenly, they ran into the Star Sanses and Dream was leading them. Dream commands them to tell him what happened to Nightmare. Insanity immediately goes and attacks the trio by himself. He just joined the team so he’s inexperienced in synergy. All three of them attacked him at the same time and sent him flying. Now it was just two on three. Killer and Dust fought them off for as long as they could. Both sides were injured but Killer and Dust fell in defeat. Dream asked them one more time where his brother was. Unknown Horror appeared behind them and instantly the trio turned around quickly. Unknown Horror told them that Nightmare has been somewhat replaced. Ink had a bad feeling about this and told the other two to follow him as he went inside a portal he made. Blue quickly grabbed Dream and slowly went towards the portal. Before they stepped through, Dream looked back at Unknown Horror and saw him mouth the words “Thank you”. He immediately gets a wave of fear, then the portal closes.

Art Made By @wyllaztopia My Good Buddy Design/Ideas Help By @heartstitched My Good BUCKO

Part 1

#Unknown Horror #undertale au #horrortale sans #horror sans #utmv au #lore dump #my ocs

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slowlyoats · 6 months ago

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The Lost Boys:Where do they take their S/O on 1:1 dates?

Marko

- Niche art installations

- Like he will literally find the most out of pocket, unconventional art gallery and take you there

- You and the boys have no idea how he manages to hear about these things, but he somehow manages to always be in the know

- Like this one time he brought his s/o to this street art installation, that could only be seen from a specific spot

- Seems pretty ordinary

- Until you get there and he reveals that “specific spot” is three stories up and requires some serous parkour skills

- The view from the top though…..absolutely stunning!

- And because you two are up their late at night, it’s just the two of you, and you both can just sit there and chat about what you like about the piece, and what you think the artist is trying to say with it

- It’s also fun to people watch from all the way up there

- It’s exhilarating to see everyone from up above. It makes you feel invincible, and powerful

Paul

- definitely something involving music

- It could be a loud, head banging concert on the board walk.

- Where you both loose yourselves in the music and just feel each other and move with the beat

- Or

- a chill, indie, artist performance in some hole in the wall late night coffee shop

- Paul surprisingly likes this type of date a lot, because the coffee shop is usually filled with high, sleep deprived college students that make a nice snack

- He favorites dates though start at the record store

- You both separate in the store and find a record that you have never heard of, and are unfamiliar with and buy it (Paul has a rule about stealing from the record store since he is good friends with the owner)

- Then you guys grab a bunch of snacks and fun drinks and head back to the cave

- You head to Paul’s room, get comfy, and discover the new music together while snaking and hanging out

- You two have found some of the best music this way!

- and have also become super music snobs because of it

Dwayne

- Dwayne’s a simple man

- He likes walks on the beach, early morning slushy runs before the sun comes up, visiting the junk yard to scavengers for parts for the bikes

- He likes siting by you in the cave and just reading together, and listening to the ocean waves outside

- He doesn’t feel like he needs to show you these grand, as seen on T.V. gestures to prove his love to you

- But

- Wether he admits it or not he is a romantic at heart

- He loves seeing your eyes go wide with excitement, or your cheeks blush when he surprises you with a romantic date

- These dates usually last all night, so Dwayne picks out your outfit because you don’t know where your going or what you will be doing

- Sometimes it’s a scenic motorcycle ride to stargaze

- Or bookstore hoping date, where you two hit all the local second hand bookstores that are still open late at night

- I could also see him (like Paul) enjoying rock/heavy metal concerts, but he doesn’t like bringing his s/o to the ones in Santa Carla so he will search for venues at least an hour or two away.

- Dwayne definitely gets possessive jealous, and he hates the idea of one of his brothers or some Surfer Nazi ogling you as you dance and move your body to the music. Strangers looking at his s/o don’t bother him, he knows your hot and people are going to look, but something about his brothers or a Surfer looking at you….it just SENDS HIM

- He used to take you to the big concert venue at the board walk, but it ended in a very public incident where someone lost their arm…so moving forward David suggested Dwayne take you else were to avoid a similar situation like that again

- Don’t get me wrong the Boys love violence and Blood, but David knows how delicate the balance on the boardwalk is. One person seeing a man’s arm get ripped clean out of socket by Dwayne is one thing, it’s a whole other thing when 30+ people see

David

- David would take his s/o to one of those axe throwing places, where you can drink and compete with your date for the highest score

- He definitely chooses his dates with showing off in mind

- Like after axe throwing you two would head to a local bar and play pool

- Unfortunately you can never beat him….unless you play dirty

- You lean down against the pool table, directly across from David

- and your blouse *accidentally* pops open while he is shooting, and he looks up distracted, and misses the ball and rips the green

- You two get kicked out after that since the owner wasn’t to happy

- He always seems to get his s/o back though

- He would snake his arm around your waist and get real close to her ear

- “So you want to tease? Okay then, hope you can keep up”

- Your royally screwed after that

- He makes it his goal the rest of the night to get you as flustered and red as possible

- a touch here, a touch there

- Those little names he only calls you in private? Sorry sweetheart, but the whole boardwalk knows now what he calls you when you two are alone

- This man has no shame, or shred of embarrassment in him

- You will lose his little game every time

#david tlb #dwayne tlb #lost boys 1987 #marko tlb #paul tlb #the lost boys #tlb fandom #tlb fanfiction #fanfic #lost boys #tlb headcanons #tlb fanfic #tlb imagines #tlb x reader #the lost boys x reader #the lost boys dwayne #the lost boys marko #the lost boys david #the lost boys paul

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3amfanfiction · 8 days ago

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Escaping the Cult pt 2

You'd been on the run from the cult you grew up in for years. Now your past has come back to haunt you. Simon x reader

cw: 3.9k fear, momentary lapse of judgement, Kyle makes a brief cameo, abandonment issues, insecure simon, reassurance, moral quandry

First Chapter

~~~~~

Simon came back late.

You'd been staring at the wall for hours, tracing the little cracks that littered the wall over and over while your mind wandered. You didn't move from your position on the bed when the door closed softly, able to hear the slight scuff as Simon locked it and took off his shoes. You stayed silent, scared that if you disturbed the hush in the air that it would all come tumbling down, that the argument would restart.

You listened as he sat gently on the couch, the old springs groaning at his weight as he lay back. You knew he had his hands up, heels pressed deeply into his eye sockets as he decompressed. It was something new he'd picked up since you'd been gone. Another tick that you weren't there to witness the birth of. Another thing you'd missed.

"Would you have come with me?" you whispered into the darkness. You never would've been brave enough to break the silence before. Before you'd left. Would've been too scared, would've let it sit until it festered. But not this you.

"Honestly," you added when the silence continued a beat too long. "Would you have snuck away with me or would you have hauled me right up in front of Price, content with whatever punishment he saw fit to dole out."

You held your breath as you waited for the answer. Waited to see which way the ax would fall.

He took his time in answering. "What's done is done. Maybe it's better if we never know," he finally allowed, voice drained of all emotion.

Well.

You'd take it.

Rolling over to look at him, you saw him exactly as you imagined—leaned back on the couch, head tilted back along the backrest, hands having fallen to his side after he rubbed his face, staring at the ceiling as if he could divine answers from the bumps and whirls scattered across the plaster.

You watched him and let your mind wander. Imagined packing up and leaving again. Leaving all you'd managed to create in your little corner of the world. Leaving everything that was yours.

Your heart gave a twinge when you thought about leaving him.

"I don't think I could," you said into the quiet hush that had fallen over the both of you. Voice soft with the truth of it. When he didn't respond, you continued, "Leave you. —Again. I don't think I would survive it."

The silence swelled once more in the aftermath of your statement. Your revelation.

Simon didn't move for the longest time.

"I can't be without you again. It damn near killed me last time," he finally croaked out. "If you run, we run together. Got that?"

"Yes, yes, got it. I got it," you reassured, eager for the lifeline he was throwing. It helped that it was true. You barely survived without him last time. You couldn't imagine trying to go it alone again. Without him to fall back on, to come home to. It sounded like a nightmare.

You realized you had crawled out of bed at some point and were standing in front of him on the couch, as if your proximity would help convince him of your truthfulness. It certainly couldn't hurt you decided and slid yourself onto the cushion right next to him, twisted to look up at him. Maintaining only a few scant inches between the two of you.

He watched you take a seat, dark eyes deep and fathomless as he took your measure. Your eyes grew misty. "I wasn't okay by myself. I could pretend for a little while but it always came crashing down." You swallowed nervously at the feelings you were about to unearth, fingers twisting in your anxiousness, "I never realized how much I would miss you. Miss you in my life."

"Y' missed me?"

"Every single day," you answered truthfully.

"Missed you, too," rumbled quietly out of his chest an indeterminate amount of time later. A chink in his armor. A soft spot he was letting you see. A way beneath this hardened man's shell.

The atmosphere turned weighty with his reveal, an awareness pressing down on the both of you that hadn't been there before. You didn't call attention to it. Content to let the words sit in the moment. A truth spoken that couldn't be taken back, not that either of you wanted to.

While it was difficult to look at him, it was nearly painful to look away. You took in his sharp jawline, tracing it up around his cauliflowered ear to his strong cheekbones. You made eye contact and realized he was staring at you just as intently.

You shifted over and rested your head gently against his shoulder, his rhythmic breathing soothing in the late night air. "I promise," you whispered quietly into the stillness, "You and me. Together."

"Together."

—

The next morning felt different. Charged almost with the revelations of the past night. You were yawning as you got ready for your shifts, rubbing bleary eyes in the bathroom mirror, cleaning sleep out from the corner as you brushed your teeth. It was another double today.

Spitting into the sink, you turned to find Simon standing in the kitchen, making the two of you something quick to eat. "You're not going to show back up at the diner today, are you?" you asked, putting the toothbrush back into its holder, "Because the boss is going to be there today and he'll ask questions if you do."

He finished up what he was doing before turning to look at you, leaning against the edge of the counter, two toasted sandwiches sitting on plates behind his back. "You gonna be back home tonight?"

"Yes," you reassured.

"I'll see you then."

And that was that. Grabbing breakfast to eat on your way, you had the strangest urge to kiss him on the cheek on your way out the door. A there and gone flash that had your feet stumbling as you realized you'd taken a step closer to him without realizing it.

"Everything good?"

"Yeah—yes, I'm fine. Just tired," you smiled up at him, hoping he'd believe you. You didn't want to dive into what prompted that. You and Simon didn't have that kind of relationship. Simon didn't have that kind of relationship with anybody. As far as you knew he'd never been in a relationship, his time too twisted up in Price and his wants. You didn't pay attention to the ugly jab that kicked right below your ribs at the thought of that changing in the years you were apart.

"See you tonight," you called as you hurried out the door—eager for the easy nature of your job over what was going on in your house.

But you couldn't help but to pick at the thought your whole walk to work. What if he found someone after you got out. Someone who he talked to, who held his secrets and his trust. Someone he could be himself with and lean on when things were hard. Someone that took your place.

You weren't sure if you liked that line of thinking or the weird twisty feeling in your stomach that went along with it. Putting it aside, you focused on the here and now with a shake of your head. Simon was with you and you were on your way to work. That was all that mattered.

The diner was as dead first thing in the morning as it always was. You started your morning to-do list with a tired greeting thrown out to the single cook running the kitchen from the night shift.

Time to get to it.

—

Simon paced around the flat, anxious and wondering if he made the right call in trusting you out of his line of sight. But you were right. He couldn't keep following you around everywhere. No matter how much it chafed at him, rubbed raw by the thought of you running. Running without him.

But you promised.

He should stay here today. He should pick up the flat and he would see you tonight. You wouldn't leave him. You said you wouldn't and he'd believed you.

He should trust you.

But the thought festered in the back of his mind all morning. What if something happened on your way to work. Not just leaving him but what if you were hit by a car or mugged on your way?

He'd take a quick walk and peek into the diner. Just close enough to catch a glimpse of you. Make sure you were safe. Make sure you were there. That's all. Enough to reassure him that nothing bad had happened.

He'd just need to make sure you were okay.

—

The days passed and lulled you into a stupor, the monotony of day in, day out diner shifts and breakfast and dinner with Simon made your days bleed together. One long unbroken cycle of work and sleep. It felt like a carousel ride, forever going in the same loop.

You were standing at the counter refilling a sugar canister when all that came crashing down around you.

Frozen, only your head was able to move—on a swivel as you followed the man walking outside along the front of your diner. His dark skin shone with an inner luster under the sunlight, his features stunning even through the warped distortion of the aged front windows. It wasn't until he turned the corner that you drew a breath into oxygen starved lungs. Suddenly you realized your heart was racing and your hands were shaking in front of you, sugar spilling all over the counter with your tremors.

Leaving it on the counter you fled to the kitchen. "I need to leave, I'm not feeling well." You croaked.

"Wha—" was all that you heard as you grabbed your stuff and bolted out the back door, head darting every which way, watching for Kyle.

Because that was who you saw. Kyle Garrick. Price's left hand man if Simon was his right. A man being brought up in Price's shadow, trained to one day take the reins—as if the old bastard would ever give them up. But appearances were important. And teaching a young man how to be a leader would always strike a chord in people's hearts.

Not seeing anyone you took a hurried step . . . then paused.

The way out of town was to the left. It was a straight shot to the highway. You could head to the exit and catch a ride. Be out of town before the hour turned. You felt the pull to run. Felt it in your bones. Your feet were itching to get out of there, as far away as you could so that they could never pull you back.

But.

The flat was to the right. The same direction you saw Kyle walking. The direction Simon was in.

You fought with yourself standing in the shadowed alleyway, your time ticking. Simon would be alright—you were the one in more danger. You needed to get yourself safe and then you could worry about others.

Turning, your feet hit the pavement with a steady clap clap clap as you ran. Past the edge of the building, across the street then a straight shot. You were panting when you made it to the exit rest stop. Stopping to catch your breath, you eyed up everyone who was stopped, looking for the ones most likely to give you a ride.

Finding your target among the truckers, you headed that way only for your quarry to slip into the restroom. With nothing left to do you hitched up next to his truck, waiting.

You wondered if Kyle already got to Simon. No, you shook your head as if to dispel the thought, Simon was just fine. He'd be able to get himself out, he was smart. He'd see you didn't come home and would put two and two together. You'd find each other again.

Your heart thudded painfully imagining him realizing you didn't come home. The shock and disbelief that he would feel, the anger and frustration. You deserved it all. You left him. You promised and you broke it. You were only thinking of yourself.

You didn't notice the tears streaming down your face in an unbroken line. Too caught up in your emotional turmoil to take stock of your physical body. You about jumped out of your skin when a hand clapped you on the shoulder.

Jerking around with a stifled shriek, you were met with the trucker you were waiting on.

"Everything all right?"

No, everything wasn't all right and you needed help. You just weren't sure what form it should take.

Standing there looking at your salvation, you realized you couldn't do it. You knew you had to get him. There was no way you would be able to run on your own. Simon was too much a part of you to leave him again. The first time was excruciating. You didn't think you had the strength to go through that again.

You scrubbed your hands along your eyes, scrubbing away your ashamed tears. You promised. You promised him you wouldn't leave him again and sure, you made the decision to get him but you had seriously considered leaving him, first. It came down to the line and you thought of yourself, just like always. Maybe you hadn't changed as much as you thought you had since leaving Price. Maybe you were the same scared little kid that was always following in Simon's shadow, too timid to make a move of their own. The one who didn't look back when they left.

You felt sick to your stomach. Simon deserved better than you. But you'd be damned if you were letting him go.

—

Simon was just exiting the bathroom when you burst through the door, panting with sweat running down your face, the salt stinging your eyes.

"We gotta go. Now," was all you could say, your chest heaving, having ran the whole way home. You darted to your dresser, grabbing clothes by the fistful to fling into a bag you'd yanked from the closet.

There wasn't time but you'd grab what you could.

"Go where?" he asked with a frown, not matching your sense of urgency in the slightest. "What's going on?" When you tried pushing him to the side to get into the bathroom to grab toiletries he grabbed you, pulling you to a stop in front of him—forcing eye contact.He held you still, hands high on your arms grounding you with a reassuring squeeze.

"Take a breath." You tried to pull away for him to continue your packing but he held you tighter, hands banding into your flesh—dimpling it. "Take a breath." When you huffily followed his order you got a Good, just like that, which sent your cheeks heating. A second breath, steadier than the first was soon joined by a third, your heartrate slowing slightly with each inhalation. "Now. Tell me what's going on."

"I saw Kyle, Simon. We have to go."

His spine straightened with the new information as if steel had been poured down it as the cause of your urgency came to light. "You saw Garrick?" You nodded, biting your lip in dread. "Where? Did he see you?" Steady, rapid questions flowed as he moved to grab another duffle bag to start helping you pack. How long ago did you see him, where, was anyone else with him?

You answered him as best you could, finished with your bag and heading to the kitchen to see if anything could be brought along. No sense wasting grocery money that you'd already spent. You could take two minutes for this.

You couldn't say anything but Simon's forced calming moment had done a number for your brain. You were able to focus on what was needed, making quick work of finding everything too precious to part with. Something you doubted would have happened if you had been scrambling.

But really, you'd been scrambling ever since you saw Kyle outside your diner, hadn't you? Ever since you thought about leaving Simon.

Moving around the flat, you did one final circuit to make sure everything of value was packed away in your bag, the detritus of your lives laying in the mess across the floors. Drawers and cupboards left open and spilling their content onto the cheap flooring, dishes still in the sink, towels over the shower railing. You mourned the loss of everything you couldn't take. The time and effort that had been poured into obtaining the things that made your life just a little bit better—left to be rifled through and tossed by the next person.

You didn't have time for this. Pushing your feelings firmly behind you, you caught Simon's eye. "You ready?" His short nod all the answer you needed to head out the door, eager to be on your way.

The trip down to the parking lot was fraught with nervous tension. Simon practically shoved you behind him when you went to lead, insisting on going first. Both of your gazes darting around, looking for anyone out of place—anyone staring too hard. When you reached the lot you were shocked when he went right for one of the older vehicles, busting out a rear window to reach around and unlock the drivers side door.

"Simon!" you whisper-screeched at him, head darting left and right to make sure no one noticed the act of vandalism happening, "What are you doing? We need to leave."

"This will get us out faster than anything. Get in, I'll just be a minute."

You stared at him in shock. Was he seriously going to steal a car? Were you going to let him? He had a point about getting away being easier in a vehicle but this was still someone's car. This could be their livelihood, the thing that was keeping the roof over their head. And you were about to take it.

You didn't have much longer to stress about it, the engine starting with a groaning rumble before evening out. A few quick coughs of the exhaust as it settled into a rough idle sounded too loud, certain to draw attention.

"Hey," he chastised when he saw you still standing there fretting, backpack over one shoulder, duffle bag clasped in your twisting hands, "Get in. Let's go." Expression tight as he nodded toward the car.

Trembling with nerves you did as bid climbing into the passenger seat with shaky breaths creeping up your throat and a twisting in your stomach.

Simon pulled out of the spot and within minutes you were passing the city limits sign, unaware you'd been fighting for breath until you took your first unencumbered inhalation for the first time since you saw Kyle only an hour ago if the time on the dash was to be believed.

Simon had a white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel, spending as much time looking forward as he did watching the rear view mirror—making sure no one was following. You slowly deflated next to him as the miles passed, putting more and more distance between you and the person looking to drag you back.

As the hours slipped past and you shifted down from fight or flight you found yourself ruminating on your theft. You hadn't ever stolen anything before and now you'd stolen a car. Someone's car. How did you get to this point? Your brain, so helpfully, gave you an example of what could happen when the owners went to leave. The shock and hurt that they would feel finding their vehicle gone, nothing but a pile of glass where it once was. Would this have a cascading effect on them? Would they lose their job because they couldn't get to work on time? Would that then send them down the hole of losing their housing, not able to pay for anything, not even the essentials.

If they had kids would they lose them too?

With your stomach in your throat you twisted around with a jolt, searching the backseat with frantic eyes. No carseats, no toys scattered across the cushioning, no juice boxes in the cup holders. No kids. That was one fear relieved.

"We can't leave it somewhere easily found." Simon said as you twisted back in your seat as if reading your mind. Facing forward once more you turned to look at him.

"But Simon—"

"I'm sorry," he cut in, truly looking remorseful. "We'll need to hide it for as long as possible. We can't give Price a lead." With a mournful sigh you gave into what he was saying, the words washing over you with your acceptance. What's one more tally mark in the balance of your life?

What followed was a mad dash across the country, never staying in one place long—you and Simon always on the move. Days later he pulled into a town for the final time.

The faded wooden sign was hard to read, showing a lifetime of hard weather on its lacquered surface. A few stripmalls and restaurants bookend the main road, a quiet run of two-way streets crisscrossing for a short distance. Simon pulled into the only motel you saw, a cheery green one-story building with about 20 rooms. A neon sign had a palm tree and the name 'Breezeway' illuminated in dull lights.

"We'll be staying here for a while," he groaned as he stretched beside the open driver-side door. The lines around his eyes looked deeper than they had before your impromptu road trip. The dark circles under his eyes made him look like he was recovering from a broken nose—a deep well of purple underscoring each socket. You'd offered to take up some of the driving but he'd refused every time.

I've got this, you just relax. I'll get us out of here.

And he did. He'd gotten you out, kept you safe. Kept his word. Here was hoping this next leg would unfold just as well.

—

He looked at you, passed out flat on one of the motel beds, arm curled up under the pillow to add heft. You were exhausted, the stress having done a real number on you. He could feel the same weariness pulling at his own bones but he firmly pushed the feeling to the side. He had more important things to focus on right now.

Like making sure you were safe and that the two of you stayed safe.

He didn't know how you did it by yourself. The running and the fear. Trying to plan where you'd go next, never knowing if the ones haunting your footsteps were one town away or a dozen, if you'd be running into them with the next choice you made.

But that was before. You never had to do it alone again. Not as long as he was there. He'd do anything to keep you safe and happy, even if it meant sacrificing his own freedom. He would do what was necessary to keep you well.

#fic: escaping the cult #simon x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #also #if anybody comes at me about simon insinuating that he would've handed her over to price--#people are allowed personal growth!#they're allowed to make bad choices #even though he wouldn't have seen it as a bad choice in the moment #he would have felt it needed to be done #he's imperfect and we still love him

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cloudyskydreams · 7 months ago

Note

Hello I have a request how would all the papyrus’s react if the reader came up to them and gave them a spontaneous kiss and walked away like nothing happened like a tease

Ps love your writing keep it up with the good work 🙏🏽

Ahhh hi! Nice to see you in my inbox hehe this is a fun ask and I had some motivation before work so I thought I'd get it done! Thanks for the kind words! Hope you enjoy ::3! Just saw this said the Papyri but I went ahead and did the sans too lol.

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Undertale

Sans:

Chuckles as he watches you walk away. He doesn't do anything about it for a bit before he pulls the same thing with a little extra spice. He waits till you're doing something before coming over and pulling you close to him pressing kisses along your jawline till he kisses you on the lips and then walks away with a satisfied grin. What happens next is up to you.

Papyrus:

Blushes from the kiss and watches you walk away in shock. He thinks about it for the awhile not really realizing you're teasing him and just assuming you wanted to surprise him with a kiss before coming up with his own plan to kiss you back. He sets up an elaborate scheme that has way too many parts and it all ends with him giving you a little smooch. It's all really dramatic and a little goofy but in the end you got a kiss from your sweet datemate!

Underfell

Red:

Blushes bright red and then smirks before chasing after you. When he finally corners you he presses you up against the wall and slides a leg in between yours. "can't get away that easy sweetheart." He purrs as he leans in and kisses you passionately slipping his tongue into your mouth the first chance he gets as his hands slide down your body.

Edge:

Stunned for a second before smirking and grabbing you by the hips to pull you back into his chest. "WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU'RE GOING PET." He'd say with a husky voice in your ear as his hands firmly hold you against him and he pressed himself into you. He bites down gently where your shoulder meets your neck and then releases you. "KEEP BEING A TEASE AND I'LL HAVE TO PUNISH YOU." He says lovingly and then walks away with a smirk.

Underswap

Blue:

He leans into the kiss as you pull away and looks at you with a small pout before smirking as you walk away. It's so on. The rest of the day is full of Blue teasing you. "Accidentally" rubbing up against you or whispering naughty things in your ear while you're doing something. You may have won the first battle but that's because he let you, now he's determined to win the war and he won't stop until you're begging him to go further.

Stretch:

He blushes from the surprise kiss but returns it quickly and tries to wrap his hands around your waist but you're already backing away. "aww honey don't be a tease." He says as you walk off with a satisfied smirk. He waits a bit before enacting his revenge, which is him pulling you onto the couch into his lap and refusing to let you go as he nuzzles into the crook of your neck.

Horrortale:

Axe:

He stiffens up when you kiss him out of no where his thoughts short circuiting. He blushes a nice deep blue and simply watches you walk away his eyelight expanded to fill his socket. He stands there for a bit before continuing on with what he was doing. He'll probably forget it happened so it's easy to get him again and again and see his adorable reaction.

Willow:

He smiles at the kiss also doesn't really realize you're teasing him. "Thank You Dear I Love You" he calls out softly as he watches you walk away. He thinks about the kiss all day until he works up the courage to find you and kiss you back. He'll walk up shyly and try to figure out how he wants to do this as with his bad back he could bend over but it would hurt. So he picks you up underneath your armpits gently and presses a kiss to your lips softly. Then he sets you down turns a bright orange and makes a smooth escape.

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ancha-aus · 2 months ago

Text

Bitty Surprise - Chapter 11 - Pov Killer

It is Sunday once again! That means another update! we continue with the bitties <3

First Chapter: [Here] AO3 link: [Here]

*-------------------------------*

Life is great and perfect!

Killer is living The Life and you can’t say anything to change his mind.

How could anything be better?

He is dating the two perfect guys. Like, Killer somehow got both Cross and Nightmare? That amount of luck is probably illegal somewhere but no take backsies!

And!

Just the two most adorable bitties.

Killer has even made some progress with getting to snuggle and kiss Renegade’s tiny skull! And he only got a hiss and one swipe of sharp phalanges from Renegade and only got a suspicious look of Axe in return!

That is so much progress!

It is amazing.

Killer whistles a song as he skips over to the bitty housing. A package in his hands.

Look. Don’t sue him, he just wants to see how far he can stretch his luck.

He was checking out some bitty stores in their usual neutral universe and saw so many cute outfits and he just thinks they would both look great in them!

Killer sits cross legged by the housing and grins widely.

Renegade and Axe are both relaxing by their tiny pool. Renegade looks up at him and immediately looks guarded as he eyes the box.

Killer grins and shakes it a tiny bit “I got you a present!”

Renegade keeps frowning at him. Axe looks up and stares at the box for a moment “What is it?”

Killer grins “I got you two some extra outfits!”

Axe slowly looks down at his clothes. Which are dirty.

Look. It may have been a tiny oversight to just give them a few outfits, which Killer is fixing right now!

Killer nods as he lays the box near the edge so they can easily look inside.

Killer nods “Okay. Who first? You want to go first Renegade-”

“Dust.”

Dead silence and Killer stares at Renegade “What…?” had he… just spoken? Renegade hadn’t spoken since the near soulbreak.

Renegade rolls his eye lights as he looks at him bored “I am Dust. Not Renegade.” And he looks at Axe for a moment. And raises a brow.

Axe just nods and turns “I am Horror. I don’t mind Axe too much but prefer my name.”

Killer blinks slowly.

Oh…

Oh stars…

Killer grins “Yes! Of course! Good to know!” Dust and Horror. Horror and Dust. D and H. That does fit with the writing in that bottle cap!

Killer wiggles and just grins widely at them.

Dust frowns a tiny bit and looks at Horror. Horror tilts his skull and looks at the package “What is it?”

Killer blinks before sitting up right. Right! Present!

Killer grins as he raises the present and opens it slowly, he can see Horror watch with clear interest. While Dust just glances over from the corner of his socket.

Score he got both their attention! Killer grins and raises the first bright blue jacket “Obviously. The blue jackets are already a hit. So I figured some backups would be welcome.” He hands over four copies of the jacket, all large because Horror is a big bitty and honestly it seems like Dust likes to drown in his clothes anyway.

Killer has yet to see him wear any of the stuff actually his size.

Killer grins “Also gives us the chance to wash your dirty jackets.”

Horror frowns “It is fine. We swim with them.”

Killer just stares at them but neither Horror nor Dust seem to think what Horror said was wrong.

Killer takes a deep breath “When… euh… was the last time you guys.. bathed?”

Horror tilts his skull as Dust snorts “We swam this morning.” And nods towards the pool.

The normal sized monster sighs “Yeah, no. That isn’t bathing or cleaning…” Killer wonders if he will lose a phalanges if he cleans either bitty… He thinks he will be relative safe with Horror but Dust tends to go for the kill, not to forget that Horror has been highly protective of his mate and he may attack if Dust gets taken for a bath.

Problem for future him. First clothes.

Killer shows multiple shirts and tiny pants. Most of it is large size but quite a few are also medium. He picked stuff with funny designs and also some bright coloured ones. Killer wants to see if either bitty likes those type of things and give them options. He also got quite a bit of just neutral colours in case they prefer to go with those.

All in all. Killer is very proud of himself.

He pulls out some PJs “And here some pyjamas! That way you can sleep more comfortable in softer stuff!” he hands the first few sets over. Horror tilts his skull as he feels the soft fabric before looking at Dust. Dust frowns at the t-shirt and Killer grins.

“Of course, as Dusty here prefers his hood.” Dust pulls a face at the nickname but remains quiet as Horror nuzzles him. Killer grins as he pulls out the bunny onesie “With hood!” and very cute bunny ears.

Dust stares at it before a blush covers his face and he hides more in his hood. Horror however stares with a lot of interest as he looks between the onesie and Dust.

Killer grins as he hands it over “I got a grey one! With the nickname Horror has for you I figured it would be a nice match!” Dust remains very quiet and Killer can see the tiny blush.

Killer grins “I think it would look cute! A tiny dust bunny!” Horror nods in agreement while Dust makes a very interesting high pitched noise.

Killer frowns “I was wondering. How did you even give Dust that nickname? Like… I immediately thought of dust bunny but I don’t know how often you guys have to deal with cleaning up dust bunnies and stuff from under furniture.”

Horror blinks as he looks at Dust before answering “The way he jumps.”

Killer blinks and looks at Dust “What?”

Dust shrugs but Horror nods “Jumps like a bunny.”

Killer knows his excitement is obvious “Really? Can I see? Pretty please?”

Horror turns to Dust “Please?”

Dust grumbles but gets up as he walks towards the side of the bitty housing, he looks up at the side before nodding as he crouches low and launches himself up and easily on top of the bitty housing. Dust turns to him before snorting.

Killer just stares with his mouth open. Because Dust just did the equivalent of jumping straight up the height of a two floor building, and nailing the landing with room to spare.

Horror nods “Bunny hop.”

Dust sputters and glares as the blush returns.

Killer can’t stop himself as he grabs Dust and coos at him “You are so cute! And that jump! Holy shit! That takes some serious leg strength!” Dust tries to get loose and his blush gets worse with each word Killer says.

Killer coos and puts Dust back down next to Horror, Dust is quick to let out a hiss and hide behind Horror. Still blushing madly.

Killer coos as he leans on a hand and just watches the two “No wonder you were fine outside and in the wild. You could just climb anything you wanted and launch yourself upwards. Serious strong legs there.” Dust having been a full size monster would have been terrifying.

Horror nods and nuzzles Dust “Amazing.” Dust’s blush still hasn’t gone away as he grabs his hood and pulls it even further over his skull to try and hide.

But, Killer can hear that! That very soft purr! That is Dust! Killer grins as he watches the two.

Honestly there is no denying he loves and adores the two bitties. It isn’t even a secret honestly and Killer doesn’t feel bad about it. It is hard not to love the two.

Killer is also very lucky both his partners are in agreement with Killer’s opinion and adoration for the two bitties. Killer had found Cross staring at them both wishfully before. Neither of them had said anything out loud about it before but Killer and Cross had had an understanding between them.

Nightmare ended up sighing and just pointing a chapter in the bitty care book out to them. Cross and Killer had both glanced at it before feeling embarrassed. As it was about how bitties form relationships.

Turns out. That while bitties are small, they are very much still able to consent and feel as normal sized monsters do. It is just rare that a monster or bitty grows interested in each other.

The three of them had spoken about it and how they thought about it with their own very new relationship. And all of them had agreed they wouldn’t mind to involve both bitties on whatever level they wanted. Most likely, only emotional. If they even grow interested.

So… Killer had been trying to push a bit. See where their boundaries lie.

Horror seems fine with most things as long as he gets food for himself and Dust and he gets returned to Dust in the end.

Dust is a bit trickier to figure out. He doesn’t always like being picked up but doesn’t mind getting a ride from one place to the next. He is also a lot sneaker than Killer thought he was. Killer had already tried to grab something out of a bag only to find Dust in there, without ever realising that Dust even left the bitty housing. Killer doesn’t mind being a taxi for the tiny bitty though. It just means that Dust trusts them enough to even allow himself to get near. Which must be very difficult for the previously wild bitty.

Killer watches the two take their time as they shift through all the clothes Killer left for them. Killer must admit he sneaked more cute and pretty clothes in there but that is for them to find and decide for themselves. Even if Killer thinks Horror will rock that little lumber jack outfit he sneaked in there.

Dust has actually gotten his hands on the bunny onesie and seems to stare at it as he feels the material. Horror is obviously just shifting clothes around as he keeps glancing at Dust as Dust inspects the offering.

And yeah, Killer can admit it is pretty much an offering. He just wants them both to love him like he loves them. Is that so much to ask?

Horror tilts his skull at Dust “Bunny?”

Dust seems to get out of his staring as he shrugs before pushing the onesie to the side. It is still in one piece and not pushed out of sight in some corner so Killer will take it as a success for now!

Killer takes some more time to just watch the two bitties interact and do their thing before he goes to the couch and starts up a game. He waves the controller and a second controller into their direction “If either of you want to play let me know! I will start up multiplayer and help you guys get used to the controls.” And he turns back to the game.

Killer plays a few levels as he manoeuvres his character around the dungeon. Looking for items to use and treasures to claim. He plays a few levels and gets lost in the game.

The door opens and that snaps him out of it. Killer blinks and looks around confused at the dark room.

A sigh “Killer.”

Killer looks up and sees the even darker form of Nightmare and he smiles “Mare!” he leaves the game on pause and rushes his partner and hugs him before planting a kiss on his face with a large grin.

Nightmare chuckles and holds him and nuzzles him “Hello love. It is good to see you. Please tell me you haven’t been sitting in this dark room for a long time.”

Killer blinks at him. Looks back at the room. And back at him again “It was light out when I started gaming.”

Nightmare sighs and Cross echoes the noise as he turns on the lights for the room “Seriously Kills. You got to make sure you don’t strain your eye lights so much.” Cross rubs the area under his sockets and Killer leans into the touch with a purr.

Killer hums happily “Sorry.” Even as he says it he tries to get closer for more of that fantastic affection. Cross snorts but happily hugs him as he strokes his skull. Killer sighs before asking half hearted “How did the meeting go?”

Nightmare lets out an even deeper sigh then he did before. Killer shoots him a worried look but Nightmare just shakes his skull and walks towards the kitchen. Killer shoots Cross a worried look.

Cross sighs “Same as always… Dream wanted to talk afterwards and from what I could hear Dream was… pushy about Nightmare having to let himself get purified of his corruption.” Cross shrugs at the horrified look “I know. He just… doesn’t want to hear it.”

Killer huffs as he looks at where Nightmare disappeared to “Maybe… time to bring out the big guns.”

Cross looks over with a confused look.

Killer continues “Some nice wine and cheese. We get pleasantly buzzed and lay together in his bed. Let’s go! I will grab the cheese!”

Cross snorts and nods “Okay. I will grab the wine from the cellar.” And he rushes off.

Killer grins before quickly rushing to the bitty housing. He spots the bitties in their own little storage area where they are still messing with the many clothes Killer had given them. Tomorrow he would try and bath the two and get them dressed in something clean. Killer grins at them “You two need anything? We will be busy for the rest of the evening.” Nightmare always takes the meetings with his twin hard even when he tries to act as if they don’t bother him. Killer and Cross both know it hurts their mate a lot. They will need to help him through it.

Dust frowns up at him “Why go to these meetings?”

Killer blinks “It is our job.”

Dust nods and Killer thinks that is it but then Dust continues “Find a new job.”

Horror looks curiously at Dust and Dust answers the unspoken question “Most large ones have jobs. But they can always switch jobs.” Dust nods into his direction “These meetings make them unhappy. The meetings are connected to their jobs.”

Horror lights up “Which means, to fix that unhappiness. They should change their jobs.”

Dust nods and looks at Killer “When will you switch jobs?” his voice saying the sentence as a fact more than anything.

Killer looks between he bitties. Part of him melts at the fact that these two had clearly been worried about them and had been thinking about a solution. Killer feels sad that… “It… it doesn’t work like that sadly. This isn’t a job we can quit.” Well, Cross and Killer could technically quit whenever they want. But they won’t leave Nightmare behind. Never. Nightmare helped them out of their own personal hell and never gave up on them. Like hell Killer or Cross will give up on him.

Dust frowns “I don’t understand.” He seems deeply offended be this fact.

Horror looks at him as well “Why can’t you stop when it makes you unhappy?”

Killer sighs as he sits down by them “We never really… went into detail about our work because. It gets complex. Remember how after we got you from the store” and yikes just thinking about the fact you can just buy bitties even when they are just as sentient as monsters gives Killer the creeps “We went through this glowy portal door thing?”

Both bitties nod.

Killer nods “Well… it was a portal. To another universe.” The blank looks make Killer rethink his explanation before grabbing a piece of paper “Okay. Imagine your whole life is. This line.” He draws a line. “Now. This is your life as it is now. This is who you are what you do and so this is your universe or timeline. But sometimes. There are very big choices that effect big things like… like…”

Horror nods “Dust following after me instead of staying in the forest.”

Killer grins “Exactly! That is a big choice. So, if you were to have made a different choice.” He makes another line appear halfway out of the other line and shows a split “It can cause a split in your timeline. It leads to a future that is very different from the one you have now, and most likely will make the you in this other timeline or universe another you.”

Both bitties nod again.

Killer continues “That, is what we call an alternative timeline. These splits are not always caused by your own choices either. Like, how Dust decision to follow after Horror didn’t just change Dust’s own life but also Horror’s. And, in the very long run, ours as well.”

Now it takes a moment longer for them to wrap their heads around it before nodding their understanding. Horror has taken to gripping Dust’s hand and Dust rubs Horror’s hand with his thumb, reassuring the bigger bitty.

Killer smiles “Sometimes… things are so very different that the two possible timelines don’t seem to have the same origin at all, maybe somethings look alike or seem to reference each other but it is all so fundamentally different that it just isn’t possible to be the same world. This, is what we call alternative universes.” He waits a moment “Technically, Cross and I are the same person, just from different universes.”

Dust blinks and frowns as he stares at him with disbelieve.

Killer grins “See? Our worlds were so different that there is hardly anything that truly marks us as the quote unquote same. We, those who travel the universes and meet each other, just treat it the same as meeting someone who has the same name by coincidence or who looks like you.” he shrugs.

Horror frowns “This is… interesting. But why tell us? What does that have to do with the work that makes you three unhappy?”

Killer sighs “Nightmare… Nightmare isn’t like anyone in the multiverse, the combination of universes, he is honestly one of a kind. Nightmare and Dream are twins who were born with a very specific role for the multiverse. Guardians of emotions, Nightmare guards the negative ones and Dream guards the positive ones. They… They have been through a lot and had a very bad falling out. Nightmare had been hurt very badly and took that out on Dream.” Which is honestly the easiest way to explain the situation with the villagers attacking Nightmare and the tree and Dream faulting Nightmare “And they have been at each other’s throat for centuries. Not too long ago they finally settled on a truce. They are both needed to keep the balance as there can’t be positivity without negativity and the other way around. The problem is…”

“Dream can’t accept that Nightmare is still the same Nightmare that Dream grew up with. Dream keeps trying to prove that Nightmare… That Nightmare needs curing or help to be better when Nightmare just wants to be, do his job, and be allowed to relax without having others hate him at the first sight of him…”

Killer sighs as he shakes his skull “I know it is a lot… it comes down to that, Nightmare can’t quit. He is unable to quit and… and Cross and I are not going to let him have to deal with all of that alone. He deserves better.” he deserved so much better than the past and childhood he got.

Killer looks back at the bitties and both frown back at him. In the end Horror nods “Okay. Good luck with cheering him up.” he nudges Dust “Come bunny.”

Panic goes through Killer “Wait!” both stop and look at him. Killer searches for the right words “Please… please don’t… dislike him for that…” Please. Please. Please. Killer can’t have ruined this for Nightmare. Nightmare deserves to have people like him. And the bitties had been doing just that!

Dust huffs but Horror just tilts his skull “Why would we dislike him for something he can’t change? Something that wasn’t his choice? Seems unfair.”

Dust nods in agreement but doesn’t add anything.

Killer feels relieve “Thanks you guys. You two are amazing and if you need anything you know how to get it and let me know if you guys want something from the store. I need to run now to get things.” The bitties both nod and turn back to do their own things. Killer grins as he rushes to the kitchen. He grabs the cheese and quickly cuts it in nice pieces. He also grabs some chips, crackers, and some fruits to share between him and his datemates.

Killer wishes the bitties a good night before rushing upstairs.

------

“Those people in those meetings are idiots.”

“I agree bunny. But there is little we can do.”

“… There is one thing…”

“You have an idea?”

“Just one for now. It may not be the best idea.”

“I am sure it is a good idea.”

“Heh, thanks H.”

“You are welcome bunny.”

*--------------------*

Next Chapter [Here]

#bittysurpriseau #bitty surprise #nightmare sans #dust sans #killer sans #cross sans #horror sans #Some more lore on the situation away from the bitties #it is rough for nightmare :(#And don't worry :) Dust and Horror are scheming :)

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ant1quar1an · 1 year ago

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what are your avian boys’ favorite places to be kissed?? i love them so much omfg

Axes’ favourite place to be kissed is probably on his forehead. Every single time you give him a forehead kiss he gets that awed expression and it never fails to coax a content purr from him. It’s likely because the big ol’ crater in his head is scary and you kissing his forehead reminds him that you’re not scared of him.

Dusts’ favourite place to be kissed is definitely on his hands. He’ll blush if you kiss him in the other places, but if you kiss his hands he’ll practically just melt into a fluffy puddle. Usually, his wings will fluff up and he’ll have to choke down a purr. Hand kisses usually get you a smooch in return.

Red loves smooches on his scapula feathers (shoulder feathers). He takes a lot of pride in his wings, and they are very pretty, but they’re also probably the strongest part of him. He sustained a pretty bad injury to them from a while back, so specific parts of his wings are pretty sensitive to intent. Kisses to his scapula feathers are probably like the only way to make him super flustered easily.

Killer is heavily flustered by any kisses to his wings. It’s super intimate to him and will leave him with fluffed feathers– and leave you in his grip for an undetermined amount of time. Giving him wing kisses are a sacrifice– your freedom, for a flustered Killer.

Cross is flustered by literally any kiss. He simply becomes super flustered, but particularly enjoys smooches to the bottom of his jaw. It’ll earn you a quiet purr of happiness and a blush. He will also return the favour.

Milord will simply die if you kiss the scars over his socket. It flusters the ever-flying-SOUL out of him. He’ll definitely find a way to repay you for your kindness, and it’s common for him to be quite clingy for a couple hours afterwards.

Blue likes to be smooched on his cheek. It earns you a quiet “mweh-heh!”, a blush, and a smooch in return. It takes quite a lot of affection-showering before he completely melts with super fluffy wings and an expression of adoration.

Sans practically flat lines if you give him a proper kiss on his teeth. It’ll take a solid minute before he’ll react– scooping you up and snuggling into you, usually playfully peppering your face with kisses, purring all the while. Bonus points if you kiss him under the stars.

#They are all so very adorable #Asks #Sans x reader #Dust sans x reader #Horror sans x reader #Milord x Reader #Swapfell Sans x Reader #Underswap Sans x Reader #Blue x Reader #Cross Sans x Reader #Killer Sans x Reader #Underfell Sans x Reader #Avian Sanses x Reader #Avian Sans #Fluff #so much fluff

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capricorn-writes2 · 3 months ago

Note

Hey Author, can I request Horror, Killer, Dust, Ganz with Headcanons of S/O Running Away from Abusive home? Thank you

- Lilith

Horror Sans, Killer Sans, Dust Sans, and Ganz Helping S/O Running Away from Abusive Home

➽───────────────❥➽───────────────❥

Hello, there Lilith. I try my best to make the portrayal of their character based on their personality and I would like to apologize for replying the ask late because I had a horrible carpal tunnel syndrome on my right hand, depression, and I had to focus on finding jobs as well as theraphy. Thankfully, I graduated in July from my university and able to get a quick 6 months of Internship before leaving to find new job.

Warning: Angst, Gore, Violence, Profanity, Mention of Abuse, and Mention of Illness, and Mention of Self-harm.

Gender: None

➽───────────────❥➽───────────────❥

Horror Sans

Horror Sans doesn't hesitate when you ask for help. The moment he realizes how bad your situation is, he’s already making plans to get you out. "Ain’t no way I’m leavin’ ya there. We’re gettin’ out. Tonight."

He doesn’t care about the consequences. Laws? Authorities? None of it matters to him. All he knows is that you’re suffering, and he won’t let it continue.

He’s surprisingly good at sneaking around. Despite his large frame and heavy steps, he knows how to move quietly when the situation demands it. Your abuser never hears him coming.

If things get dangerous, he won’t hold back. He won’t start a fight unless absolutely necessary, but if your abuser tries to stop you from leaving… well, let’s just say they won’t be standing for long.

He already has a safe place in mind. Whether it’s a rundown cabin, an underground hideout, or just somewhere far away from your past, he makes sure there’s a place you can rest without fear.

You will never go hungry around him. Horror knows what it’s like to starve, and he refuses to let you feel that kind of pain. No matter where you are, he makes sure there’s food on the table.

He keeps weapons nearby—just in case. Even if you’re safe, he doesn’t trust the world to stay safe. If anyone dares come looking for you, he’s ready as he already sharpen his axe.

Ⰶ║ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ║Ⰶ

(Y/N) flinched as the glass slammed onto the table, the sharp sound cutting through the suffocating silence of the dimly lit dining room. Your father loomed over them, his face twisted with fury, his hands gripping the crumpled report card like it was a personal insult. “A D?” he spat, his voice a venomous whisper before it erupted into a full-blown roar. “You got a damn D in math? After all I’ve done for you?!” His hand clenched, and for a terrifying moment, you braced yourselves for what might come next.

Before he could step any closer, a sudden crack echoed through the room. A presence that is dark and imposing loomed behind you. Horror Sans stood behind you, his massive form filling the small space of your living room, single glowing eye locked onto the man who had been tormenting you. His grin stretched wide, jagged and unsettling, but there was no amusement in it. Only warning. "Havin’ fun screamin’, old man?" Horror’s voice was low and gravelly.

The old man spun around, his rage momentarily replaced with shock at the sight. "Who the hell are you?" he snapped, but there was a waver in his voice. He wasn’t used to being challenged, much less by something like this. Horror took a single step forward, his heavy boots making the floor creak. "We’re leavin’," he stated simply, his voice calm, too calm for his liking. "Sit. Down." Your father snarled, pointing a trembling finger at you.

It was his final command, the last attempt to control you. But before you could even flinch, Horror took another step, his full height casting a shadow over the man. The room felt smaller, suffocating. Your father wasn't used to being the one afraid, but the sheer size of Horror, the raw, inhuman presence of him, made him hesitate. Horror tilted his head, eye socket narrowing as he let out a low chuckle. "Didn’t hear me the first time, huh? I said, We're leavin' this place."His grip on the axe tightened.

Your father’s hands curled into fists, his face twisting with rage, but Horror didn’t wait. The moment the old man lunged, Horror’s axe was in his hands, the dull side of the blade resting just beneath his chin in a silent warning. "Try me," Horror murmured, his glowing eye flaring. "Please. I-i'm sorry" Your father’s breath hitched, his bravado crumbling as he took a step back.

And then, in an instant, the world around you vanished. The living room, the screaming, the suffocating weight of expectations—gone. When you opened your eyes again, you were somewhere else entirely. The air was damp, cold, the scent of old metal and dust filling your lungs. You were in an abandoned warehouse, far from home. Far from him.

Horror turned to you, his expression unreadable, though his grin had less malice now. "Yer safe," he muttered, kneeling beside you. "Ain’t nobody gonna hurt ya no more." His massive hands, so used to violence, moved carefully as he scanned you for injuries. A bruise on your wrist. A faint red mark on your cheek. His fingers ghosted over them, his grip tightening in quiet fury. "Bastard's lucky I didn’t do worse," he muttered, more to himself than to you. "I-it's okay, Horror. Thank you so much for saving me," you smile at him.

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❀

Killer Sans

Killer had always been sharp, noticing the smallest details. When he saw your bruises and the way you flinched at sudden movements, he knew something was wrong.

Even before you told him anything, he started keeping an eye on your house. If he noticed the lights still on late at night, heard yelling when he passed by, or saw you flinch when your phone rang.

Killer didn’t just want to rescue you. He wanted to make sure your abuser regretted ever laying a hand on you. He’d steal their keys, rearrange furniture just to mess with them, leave unsettling notes on mirrors like, You’re being watched. He wanted them paranoid.

Killer didn’t do sappy, but he did do distractions. He dragged you on random outings in the middle of the night like rooftops, empty amusement parks, abandoned diners. "We’re making up for lost time, babe. C’mon, let’s go cause some mayhem."

Killer had ways of erasing monsters and people—at least from records. He hacked into systems, messed with addresses, and ensured there was no trace of you left behind. If your abuser tried to find you, they’d be met with nothing but dead ends.

He never said it out loud, but he didn’t need to. The way he stayed close, the way he glared at anyone who got too near, the way he always had one hand near his weapon. It was all a silent promise to keep you saved.

If someone even slightly raised their voice at you, Killer was in their face before they could finish their sentence. "Try that again," he’d say, tilting his head with an unsettling grin.

Ⰶ║ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ║Ⰶ

The air was thick with tension, the kind that suffocated and lingered long after the shouting stopped. Killer had been lounging on your bed, arms folded behind his skull, lazily flipping a knife between his fingers. It was supposed to be just another night of hanging out, just the two of you. But then—CRASH. A scream tore through the silence, followed by the sharp sound of something shattering. His grip on the knife tightened.

Your mother’s voice rang through the house, dripping with venom. "You ruined everything!" she shrieked. Another crash. Another pained cry. Killer’s easygoing smirk faded instantly. He teleported out of your room in an instant, appearing at the top of the stairs just in time to see you crumpled on the floor, clutching your side, gasping in pain.

His sockets darkened, his grin sharpening into something dangerous. Without hesitation, he pulled back his arm and flung his knife. The blade zipped through the air, slicing just past her cheek and embedding itself into the wall with a deadly thunk. She froze, eyes wide with terror. Before she could even process what had happened, Killer tilted his head, a smirk curling at his lips. "Try that again," he purred, his voice smooth yet laced with menace. "I dare you."

Your mother let out a strangled scream, stumbling backward, hands shaking. "M-Monster!" she shrieked before turning and bolting toward her room, slamming the door behind her. Killer rolled his eyes. "Pfft. Unoriginal," he muttered before turning his attention to you. He crouched down, carefully reaching out. "C’mon, doll. We’re getting you outta here." Without waiting for an answer, he wrapped his arms around you and teleported in a flash of light.

The old warehouse was dark, abandoned, and silent except for the distant dripping of water from a leaking pipe. It wasn’t much, but it was safe. Killer lowered you onto a makeshift seat, his grin softening slightly. "Stay here. I’ll be right back. Don’t move, got it?" You barely had time to nod before he was gone.

Back at the house, the chaos began. Killer materialized in your mother’s bedroom, eyes gleaming with mischief. With quick, efficient movements, he stole her keys, tossing them into some impossible-to-reach corner. He grabbed a can of red paint he found in the storage room and smeared it across her mirror, leaving behind streaks that resembled dripping blood. He grinned. "Ooh, creepy."

Then, just for fun, he rearranged the furniture, flipping chairs upside down, shifting the bed slightly to make it feel off, and setting the TV volume to max before unplugging it. For the finishing touch, he grabbed a notepad from the counter and scribbled a little message in sharp, jagged handwriting. We know what you did. He stuck it to the fridge, right on top of one of the pictures where she still pretended to be a good parent.

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❀

Dust Sans

Dust Sans isn't stupid. He notices the way your body tenses when certain topics come up, the way your eyes dart around like you’re waiting for something or someone to strike. It’s subtle, but to someone like him, who has lived in fear before, it’s obvious.

He doesn’t ask right away, though. He just observes, lets his suspicions build until the truth is right in front of him. You try to hide the bruises under long sleeves, the cuts that are a little too precise to be accidents, but he sees them.

The night he acts, he waits for the perfect moment. The second your abuser turns their back, Dust teleports straight into your room and grabs your wrist. "We’re leaving. Now." His voice is calm, but his grip is firm.

If your abuser tries to stop him, he gives them a very clear warning. The glint of his knife, the way he tilts his head, the eerie way his grin slowly returns. It’s all a promise. A deadly one.

He takes you somewhere isolated, a place no one can find. An abandoned warehouse, a run-down cabin, maybe even the edges of the Underground where no one dares to go.

Dust doesn’t know how to comfort people. He’s used to violence, to survival. But for you? He tries. He watches, making sure you’re eating, making sure you’re sleeping.

He doesn’t believe in words. He believes in actions, fixing things for you, making sure your space is warm enough, bringing you food even if he just tosses it onto your lap with a muttered, “Eat.”

Ⰶ║ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ║Ⰶ

The night was heavy with anger and exhaustion. You stood in the middle of the dimly lit living room, your parents' voices ringing in your ears like thunder. "Selfish!" "Ungrateful!" "Stingy little brat!" Their accusations hit like sharp knives, cutting deeper than any physical wound. All because you had worked hard, earned your own money—yet instead of handing it over to them, you had dared to spend it on yourself. A simple meal.

A dull, chilling voice cut through the noise. "Tch. What’s going on this time?" Dust had been upstairs, listening. He never liked your parents, never trusted them, but now, hearing the raw hatred in their voices, he felt something snap. He teleported downstairs in an instant, appearing beside you with his usual blank stare, his hands twitching, magic sparking faintly. Your parents barely acknowledged his presence, still too focused on tearing you down. "Ungrateful. Useless. Stingy." Your father spat the words, sneering.

Dust just stared, unmoving, unblinking. Then, finally, he stepped forward, placing himself between you and them. "We’re leaving." His voice was quiet, eerily calm. That was the only warning he gave. But instead of fear, your father laughed. A cruel, mocking laugh that sent something dangerous crawling up Dust’s spine. "You think you can take care of (Y/N)?! You?!" He scoffed, waving him off. "Fine! Leave! You’re both worthless anyway!"

Dust’s grin stretched too wide, dark and twisted. "Gladly." And then everything levitated. Chairs, dishes, picture frames, all of it ripped from the ground in a silent storm of fury. Your parents barely had time to scream before the objects crashed into the walls, shattering into pieces. Dust didn’t touch them, but his message was clear. He grabbed your wrist, teleporting away before they could react, leaving behind the house.

You landed in darkness, surrounded by towering trees and the whisper of the wind. An old, abandoned cabin stood in the distance, broken but still standing much like him. "This place ain't much, but… it’s better than that hellhole," he muttered, leading you inside. It was small, dusty, but safe. He flicked his wrist, summoning a dim glow of magic to light the space.

Then, without a word, he rummaged through his pockets before tossing something in your direction. "Eat." A small, slightly stale piece of bread landed in your lap. You looked up at him, surprised. Dust rarely showed care through words, but his actions spoke louder. He slumped down beside you, his grin gone, replaced by something quieter. "You’re safe now." His voice was low, steady, final. "And I’ll keep it that way. I won’t let those bastards touch you again."

The weight of the night settled in. Everything had changed in an instant. The fear, the anger, the uncertainty. It was all still there, but so was he. For the first time in years, you weren’t alone. And somehow, despite the eerie silence of the cabin, despite the worn-out wood and the chilling wind outside, you felt warmer than you ever had before.

Ⰶ║ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ║Ⰶ

❀

Ganz

Ganz had always noticed the signs. The way you flinched at sudden sounds, how you hesitated before speaking, and the way your eyes held exhaustion far beyond your years.

You had tried to hide it under long sleeves, but when he caught a glimpse of the marks on your wrist, something inside him snapped. He wasn’t the type to get openly angry, but his grip on his scarf tightened.

The moment they tried to strike you, he stepped in. He didn’t have to lift a finger, he air around him became suffocating, filled with magic so thick that even your abuser took a step back. He didn’t need violence. His presence alone was enough to make them freeze in place.

Ganz never rushed you to talk. If you wanted to tell him what happened, he’d listen. If you didn’t, that was fine too. He wasn’t going to pry into your pain—he just wanted you to heal at your own pace.

If nightmares came, he was there. He never judged you for waking up in a panic, nor did he question it when you curled into yourself, trembling. He simply sat nearby, a quiet, steady presence to remind you that you weren’t alone

If you ever doubted your worth, he shut it down immediately. "You deserved better than that place." His voice was firm, almost stubborn.

Ganz had a way of making you feel safe without words. Sometimes, all it took was a hand on your shoulder, a quiet hum as he fiddled with his scarf, letting you know he wasn’t leaving.

Ⰶ║ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ║Ⰶ

The soft glow of the moon barely reached your room, its silver light casting faint patterns against the walls. You lay curled up on the bed, muffling your sobs into the pillow, trying not to let the weight of your parents' words crush you completely. They didn’t even look at me. They didn’t even care. The echo of their dismissive laughter when you mentioned your competition still rang in your ears. "Why bother going? You’ll lose anyway." Instead, they had left, their attention solely on your sister’s ballet rehearsal, as if you didn’t exist at all.

A familiar distortion in the air made you lift your head slightly. A soft hum of teleportation magic crackled for a moment before a figure appeared at the foot of your bed. Ganz. His usual sharp gaze softened the moment he saw your tear-streaked face, his scarf shifting slightly as he let out a slow breath. Without a word, he sat beside you, the mattress dipping under his weight. He didn’t ask what happened, he didn’t need to. He just looked at you with those piercing eyes that held a silent question: Do you want to leave?

You hesitated, but only for a moment. The answer had always been inside you, buried under years of neglect, waiting for someone—anyone to remind you that you had a choice. Your lips trembled as you whispered, "Take me with you." Ganz nodded, the faintest ghost of a smile touching his expression before vanishing just as quickly. He didn’t say Are you sure? He didn’t ask What about your family? Because he knew. He knew they weren’t your family. Not really.

Packing didn’t take long. You barely owned anything that felt worth taking. A few clothes, a notebook, a small trinket from someone who once cared. Ganz stood by the window, arms crossed, watching with a quiet patience that spoke louder than words. When you were finally ready, he reached out. His fingers were cool against yours as the familiar pull of teleportation magic wrapped around you, and in an instant, the room, the house, the pain was gone.

The sanctuary was quiet, hidden deep underground where no one could find it. A small fire flickered in the corner, casting soft orange glows against the stone walls. The scent of cinnamon filled the air, and for the first time in what felt like forever, your lungs didn’t feel heavy. But as you settled in, Ganz's sharp eyes caught what you had tried to hide the bruises on your arms, the faint outlines of past injuries you never spoke about. He stared for a moment, his fingers tightening around the edge of his scarf, but he didn’t press.

Instead, he stood, walked over to a small table, and returned with something warm wrapped in cloth. "You’re safe now. That’s what matters," he murmured, handing you a cinnamon bun. The warmth seeped into your fingers, grounding you, anchoring you to the present. He sat beside you once more, the silence between you no longer heavy, but comforting.

He finally spoke again, voice low but steady. "You deserved better than that place." There was no hesitation in his words, no doubt, just truth. A truth you had been too afraid to believe until now. As you took a small bite, the sweetness melting on your tongue, something inside you cracked. Not from the pain, but relief. For the first time in years, you weren’t alone.

Ⰶ║ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ║Ⰶ

❀

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