#laps!frisk

[grumpyghostdoodles]

Is Asriel scared of the hit horror film the shining?

Those two were left to their own devices for, like, maximum two days, and they managed to kick a gods ass and free all monsterkind, i do not blame him

(Post that Ask is referring to)

[jamespottersdaisy]

Sweet Nothing

Remus Lupin x fem!reader

And the voices that implore, "You should be doing more."

To you, I can admit that I'm just too soft for all of it.

based on a request

content- fluff, sickness, hurt/comfort?, established relationship.

3.2k

author's note- this is actually several blurbs put into one fic, no use of y/n, english is not my first language so beware <3

You feel a hand on your lower back, guiding you through the throng in the Quidditch Pitch to the castle. Raising your head, your eyes catch Remus's soft but rapt expression. His eyebrows are furrowed, his eyes opting for the best way to get you from the packed crowd with the least malaise.

You don't bother to speak; most probably, he won't hear you. Hell, you don't even hear your own thoughts in all this ruckus. However, you would always hear his calm and tender tone.

"This way, dove."

You let your body comply with his hand on your back.

"You guys are a menace," your disapproving timbre curls up his lips into a subtle smile, one that he tries to hide from you. "And I don't believe for a second that you had nothing to do with this."

He chuckles, his brown eyes catching yours for a moment. "I was with you the whole time, wasn't I?"

"They're not brilliant enough to think of a way of hexing the whole–" Your words are cut off when Remus pulls you to his right. You stumble from the sudden shove, feeling his tight grip on your arms.

You see a group of brooms whooshing from where you were standing only seconds before. "What are they doing?"

"Bastards," Remus mutters, agitated that they almost knocked you out.

"Your fault. You shouldn't have given them a reason to celebrate."

You know you are wrong; of course, the Gryffindor players would celebrate with or without the Marauder's prank on the opposite team. However, a little compunction wouldn't hurt. 

"It's not my fault that I'm a mastermind," Remus grins, pulling you closer by the waist. You can hear the cheerful shouts and music from afar, knowing that James is probably capering around, frisking on Sirius or Peter. 

"Should we go and celebrate with them?" you ask Remus, even though you despise the hubbub, everyone pushing and pulling others, stumbling to one another, hurting each other's toes. Who needs that? You can very well express your cheers in the common room celebrations. And Remus knows you well enough.

"No, we'll see them in the common room," he says, holding your hand tightly. "Are you hungry?"

"We just ate."

"Do you want snacks? I can get some from the kitchens if you do."

You chuckle at his tone, so soft but also pampering you. "Are you hungry? You certainly sound like you want something to eat."

"You?"

"Remus!" you elbow him, blush painting your cheeks. He laughs, a sound that manages to flutter chords in your heart no matter how many times you hear it. He brings your hand–which is entangled between his fingers– to his lips and places a tender peck on it.

"I'll bring you some chocolate from the kitchens."

That is how you know he craves chocolate.

"You two should break up."

"Come again?"

"I said, break up for a day, you're making Prongs sad," Sirius repeats shamelessly at you, going through a cookie bowl.

Remus is ambling down the stairs with a book in his hand. A book which he uses to smack Sirius on the head. He winces, scowling at your boyfriend.

"Prongs being sad is none of our business."

You let Remus sit on the sofa and put your head on his lap. Under a mere second, another hand, belonging to James, plunges into the bowl. 

"No matter what I do, Evans won't go out with me on Valentine's Day," he continues to inspect every cookie meticulously, looking for the right one. Your heart aches at the sight, and you decide that enough is enough. You snatch the bowl under his hand and lay back on Remus's lap with the cookies on your stomach. Remus smiles at the sight of you, his hand roaming through your hair.

"Stop sampling the cookies with your filthy fingers."

"They're my only comfort. Give them back," James attacks, ready to grab the bowl back, but Remus's hands stop him. He playfully swats James's hand away from the bowl. 

"She's eating them."

You grin at James, visibly smug about your boyfriend's demeanour. "I am eating them, Potter."

"You haven't touched them since Peter brought them from the kitchens."

"I will eat them, Potter."

You don't comprehend what happens next, or you simply don't remember. Maybe James groans and leaves your side, or Sirius starts teasing you again. Who knows? You just feel Remus's fingers tousling between strands of your hair. 

"What are you doing?" you whisper, a tiny smile adorning your lips.

"Braiding your hair," he drawls, his eyes glancing at your lips before averting back to your hair. 

"You know how to braid?"

Remus chuckles, shaking his head. "No, but I'm learning right now."

"By ruffling my hair?"

"I'm not ruffling, dove. I'm braiding."

"No, you're definitely ruffling. I can feel it."

"I'll comb them later tonight. Sounds good?" you smirk at his raised eyebrows, hearing your heart singing. Moments like this are what soothe your worries and take away the weight on your shoulders for that week. His quiet whispers and tender touch, adoring tone and smiling eyes always manage to find their path to your heart, warming it in an instant.

"Will you also bring me milk and kiss me goodnight?"

He smiles, bringing one hand to your chin. His thumb caresses the skin and journeys to your lips.

"If that's what you want."

You roll your eyes at him, taking his hand from your face in your hand. You start to fiddle with his fingers, oblivious of the beam in his countenance. You love playing with Remus's hand. They are larger than yours, as Remus enjoys pointing out with every chance he gets, but also so soft. 

Your eyes forcefully move from your intertwined hands to Remus's brown eyes. In a few seconds, your mind feels his finger resting under your chin. You gaze at him with confusion and affection as he leans in and puts his lips before yours. He doesn't kiss you, merely placing his lips inches away from yours. You know he is waiting for you. 

You smile for a moment, your warm breath hitting his lips. You know it puts him on the edge when you josh him, his breathing getting heavier, the black in his eyes widening.

But you relish it more than anything.

"Don't tease, dove," he whispers, and you can feel the anticipation in his tone.

You giggle, your smile growing against his, your fingers running through the hair on his neck. You don't torture him any more, crashing your lips to his. You let out an amused breath when you feel Remus return the kiss in a second, his hands wandering your body.

No matter how long you've been together or how many times he has kissed your lips, it is the same feeling every time. The burn in your core, the desire for more and the joy of his touch. You are too familiar with all these sensations, and yet you welcome them every time with a smile on your face.

"Get a room!"

You are familiar with Sirius's shriek, too.

Your throat burns with pain, your nose itching with an urge to sneeze, which never comes. You know for sure that you look terrible in your bed, with dishevelled hair, a red nose and swollen eyes. However, all this doesn't seem to phase Remus even a bit. 

"You're a mule."

He is annoyed and maybe slightly worried. His eyebrows are furrowed, and displeasure has gained a seat on his visage. He is staring at you with irritated eyes and a scowl beside your bed.

"And you're rude," you say, barely managing to raise your voice from a whisper. It's not your fault that your throat hurts when you talk.

"Dove, let's just go to Madam Pomfrey."

"For a cold?"

Remus groans, sitting next to you. He puts one hand on your right thigh before speaking again.

"You'll have a fever if you keep up like this."

"I'm fine, stop worrying," you say, even though you're happy that he does.

You're happy that he worries for you and cares for you. You're happy that he never leaves your side or your hand. You're happy that even though he rarely uses the words, he still manages to tell you he loves you with actions.

You don't need to hear it. You never need to hear it; Remus makes sure that you can feel it.

"You know I can't do that," he shakes his head, persistent with his efforts. "And you know I can't take care of you all by myself."

You chuckle at his words. For the last seven hours, he's been bringing you warm soup, making sure you're hydrated enough, and he hasn't let you stand up for even a second.

"You've done well so far," you smile despite the ache in your temples. "Remus, it's just cold. I'll be fine in the morning, especially with your pampering."

You don't see the point in visiting the hospital wing for a seasonal cold; it seems like overreacting. Remus, on the other hand, seems distraught seeing you in pain. He doesn't want to agree; you can see it on his face, but he agrees anyway. 

"It would help if you took a warm shower, you know."

You smile at him, knowing damn well that he wouldn't let you get on your feet without his help.

"Maybe."

Remus nods several times, immediately rising to his feet. "I'll run a shower for you."

You watch him sprint to the bathroom, and the next thing you hear is the water running. You are lucky that your roommates are not in your dorm room today. Or maybe you're unlucky that you got sick on Saturday.

You slowly start getting out of bed, your head throbbing. Remus comes back and helps you get to the bathroom. In reality, he merely follows you from place to place, as you're perfectly capable of walking. 

"You're acting like I'm a toddler," you laugh at his concern, which earns you a frown. 

"You are a toddler. Why else would you refuse to go to the hospital wing?"

"Because I'm fine," you grin, getting out of your clothes. Remus watches you, leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed. "If you're waiting for me to ask you to join me, I'm not gonna do that."

He smirks at your tone, pushing himself off the doorframe. "I'll be there if you need me."

He leaves you alone, and you let hot water embrace your bare skin. By the end of the shower, you feel lighter and better, happy that your headache has eased a bit.

Remus waits for you in the room, and you notice that he has brought you another soup. 

"How many times do I have to drink that?" 

"Enough times for you to get better," he pushes the blanket on top of you when you lay down on the bed. "Cooperate a bit."

He takes the soup bowl in his hand and lifts the spoon. You grimace at the steam rising from the spoon.

"I'd rather not drink–"

"Open wide, the train is coming," he pushes the spoon to your lips.

"Remus!" you pull your head backwards, laughing involuntarily. "It's hot!"

"You haven't even tasted it."

"I can see from the steam."

"Fine," he groans, huffing at the spoon. "It's good now, come on."

Now that you're out of the excuses, you comply with him. Still, you pull a face when your tongue meets with the soup, albeit it is delicious. 

"It can't be that disgusting, dove."

"It is," you lie when Remus offers you another spoon, a bit of liquid dripping from your lips to your chin. 

"Let me see," he says, and before you can deny it, his lips are already on yours. 

You let out a disapproving sound from deep in your throat, even though your stomach tingles at the feeling of Remus's soft lips on yours. He pulls back an inch, but still close enough for you to feel his warm breath. 

"It was delicious," he mocks. "Liar."

"You're gonna be sick, baby," you whisper, your lips smiling a bit. 

He kisses you again, this time quicker and shorter than before. "You'll take care of me."

And you will take care of him the next morning because he definitely will be sick.

You don't feel your legs, nor do you remember how you got to the castle yard. You're in a trance, unable to hear or feel anything as you stride to a distant tree that will provide you solidarity. Anything except the suffocating weight in your lungs and the burning urge in your throat. You want to cry. You want to drop to your knees and wail, letting tears pour down your eyes, allowing the agony to leave your heart with your every cry.

But you don't cry.

You don't cry until you know you are alone. You don't cry until you are sure that no one can see you, no one can hear you. You don't cry until you are sure that you are out of everyone's sight who will pity you if they see your tears.

It feels too much. You feel too much. You feel too much, but you don't feel enough. You never feel enough. 

You run, but you never flee. You swim, but you drown. You smile, but you cry.

The moment you see the tree, your legs give in. You fall to the ground, a cry leaving your lips. You don't scream, you don't wail. You simply welcome the tears as you sit on the ground, pulling your knees to yourself.

Your mind echoes each and every word that pulls you too deep into the ocean.

"I expected more from you."

You thought you did enough.

"It's your fault."

You thought you did the right thing.

"You'll do better next time."

You thought you did better this time.

You hear your pained sob, pitying yourself. Your nails dig into your skin hard enough to leave a mark. You want to leave a mark. You want to feel something, something other than the pain burning inside your chest. 

"Dove?"

You whine at your lover's voice, so soft and tender, afraid to startle you. You don't question how he has found you. Somehow he always does.

"Go away, Remus," your tone sounds weaker than you expect, full of agony and desperation. You don't look at his face; you don't look anywhere but your hands. 

You don't want him to see your red eyes, tear-stained face and shaking hands. You don't want him to hear your heavy sobs and breathless cries. You don't want him to pity you.

"No," he sits next to you, still a bit hesitant to touch you. "What's wrong, sweetheart?"

"Go away," you cry, "please."

"I am not going anywhere, dove," he shakes his head, his eyes glancing at your hands. He knows it may backfire, and he knows you may draw up your walls even higher, but he takes the risk. He puts his hand on yours, parting your nails from your skin. 

You scrunch up your face when he kisses the skin where your nails dig deep, ready to burst into tears once more. You lower your head, refusing to let him see your pain. 

He doesn't let you. 

"Talk to me," he pleads, holding your hand close to him. "I hate seeing you cry."

Of course, he does, you think. Why would anyone want to put up with your bawling? Why would anyone want to put up with you?

You can feel the hatred poisoning your veins, darkening the light in your heart. You know this hatred, this darkness. You know who it is aimed at. You are too familiar with its burn. You know it is going to mock your weakness and insult your very being because you know you feel that hatred for none other than yourself.

When you talk, you want to drown your voice just to never hear it again.

"I'm sorry."

You don't see Remus's confused face. You don't feel his bafflement. You only hear his loving pitying tone.

"For what?" he asks and doesn't wait for your reply. "Dove, come here."

You despise your body for betraying your mind. You abhor your heart for betraying your will. You hate your frailty when it comes to Remus.

You let him hold you close to his chest, sobbing into his touch. His hands caress your hair, his lips leaving kisses on your temple as comfort. Your body trembles under his affection, the tears staining his shirt. 

"It's alright. You're alright," his tone hugs the scarred part of your soul. "I'm here."

"I'm sorry, Remus, I'm sorry–"

"What for, dove? You have nothing to be sorry about," he cuts you off, feeling that you're spiralling. "Tell me what's wrong. Tell me, we'll fix it together, yeah?"

You shake your head, clinging closer to his chest. This is the part you hate most. The part where the words line up against your tongue but don't know how to get out. Your feelings mock you, and you're afraid that if you talk, he will mock you, too.

Remus knows you. He has learned you well enough to know that you are struggling. He strokes your back, encouraging you to speak. 

"Come on, dove. You'll feel better," he kisses your hair.

"No, I- It's not.." you mumble something between your sobs, and Remus tries so hard to understand you. He waits, patiently giving you the time you need to organise your thoughts, all while embracing you tightly. 

"It's alright. Take your time."

You inhale a deep but shaky breath, your chest trembling from all the hiccups. You wish to speak, to share your pain with your lover, but it's just too heavy. So heavy that letters are like a burden to your tongue. 

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," you don't know you're crying again until you feel teardrops on your hand. "I can't. This is it. This is all I got. It's not enough, I'm not enough."

"Hey, hey, hey," Remus pulls away, taking your face in his hands. "You're more than enough."

"No, no, I-I can't…I can't do better. I need to do better, I have to do better–"

Remus doesn't understand what you're talking about; your words don't make sense to him. All he knows is that your every tear is like a knife to his heart, your every sob is like a hit in the gut, and your every word is like a storm hitting his mind.

"You don't have to do anything. You're doing enough," he says, his heart clenching in pain at the sight of you. "Listen to me."

He puts his forehead on yours, closing his eyes. "Listen to me, dove."

He waits for you. He waits until your breathing calms down, your tears slow down, and your body stops shaking. You close your eyes, inhaling his scent.

"You're enough for me," he whispers, his hands still caressing your body. "I love you, and you're enough for me."

You feel the burn in your chest at ease, the burden in your tongue walking away. You feel your tears come to a halt, your soul finding comfort in his words. 

"I love you, too," you whisper back. 

"Then talk to me, and let me help you."

So, you talk. You tell him every word in your mind, every pain in your heart and every burden in your soul. You know he can't possibly solve all your problems or take away all your pain, but what he can do is always let you know he loves you, whether with his words or his actions.

I love Remus, I wish men were real.

Thank you for reading and please let me know what you think!

and if you please, buy me a coffee <333

[derangedanomaly]

Hi, was wondering if I can do another reqest! In this one, undertale, Underswap, horrortale, and underfell with a reader who is a doctor. Like, the best of thr best doctor. In this scenario, could you do one where reader comes home after a 17 hour shift and just grabs them, still in their work close, and just cuddles them where the bros are. No words, no noise, just grab, snuggle, sleep!

Hope you are having a good day!

MASTERLIST

THE BROTHERS X DOCTOR READER

(Undertale, Underswap, Underfell, Horrortale)

UNDERTALE

You were tired. More so than often, and couldn't stand it anymore. You just want to go home, snatch your boyfriend, and relax under the covers.. it would ultimately be more rewarding than anything.

You sighed in relief when the clock on your wall signalled that it's the closing hour... Finally, you could leave. It's not like you hate your job, quite the opposite actually! But today just felt more like a chore...

SANS:

After you arrived home, you were met with the figure of Papyrus tending to the kitchen. "Y/N! WELCOME HOME!" You smiled tiredly at Papyrus. He was probably cooking up some Spaghetti. "Yeah, we ended a little earlier." You went into the living room and stood still, staring at the two figures lumped on it. Sans, laying the back of his head on the armrest of the couch, sleeping, and Frisk. They were staring at you with a small smile. You waved at them, then decided to finally let your mind just doze off...

You crashed onto Sans' lap, and hugged him close, closing your eyes.. yes, you missed this. Frisk seemed to be surprised at this sudden act of affection from you, as they gazed at you with opened mouth. You slowly felt your mind drift off before you succumbed to sleep.

Sans lazily opened one eye, staring at you on his lap. His cheeks gained a blueish color. Looks like his doctor worked themselves to the brim. He smiled even wider, if it was possible, and wrapped one arm around you, before deciding that it's just not enough, and bear hugged you.

Papyrus went into the room, about to announce that the dinner is ready, until gawking at you two. Him and Frisk shared glances, before he decided you needed to be alone. "Come On Frisk, Let's Go Eat Dinner.." he tried to be the quietest he can, as he took Frisk's hand and led them to the kitchen.

PAPYRUS:

You smiled after you arrived home and smelled Papyrus' food floating around the air.

He probably didn't heard you, because you did not receive any greeting, while you were taking off your boots. You went into the kitchen area, and saw Papyrus absolutely engulfed in his cooking. He's sometimes too cute...

He jumped a little when you wrapped your hands around him, hugging him from behind. "Y/N! I DIDN'T EVEN HEARD YOU!" Papyrus' turned around, and hugged you right back.

He picked you up, to hold you a little better. He seemed to beam with excitement when he hugged you. "HOW WAS WORK TODAY?" You hummed, tired just from the mention of today's work. "Tiring..." Papyrus had a worried face when he heard that, and fully faced you. "WOULD YOU LIKE TO GO TO BED? I CAN ALWAYS SUPPLY TODAY'S DINNER IN THE FRIDGE FOR YOU FOR LATER!" You only hummed, not really listening, as the thought of sleep covered your whole mind.

Papyrus was still talking, and you loved to listen to his ramblings! But not today. You cupped his skull, which made him immediately stop his constant rambling. "Oh.." he gazed into your eyes. You softly smiled and kissed his skull.

His whole face flushed orange, as he couldn't look at you with embarrassment. "H-heh...I....u-uhm..." This is probably the quietest you've ever heard him.

"Papyrus....." He was hooked on your words, staring back at you. "Let's go to bed.." "Of course!" He was quick to listen to your words, and left the kitchen, with you still in his arms.

UNDERFELL

You were so goddamn tired. You just couldn't stand it. All you wanted was to just go home, and crash your boyfriend with hugs and cuddles.. it would definitely be more rewarding than anything.

You sighed in relief when the clock on your wall signalled that it's the closing hour... Fucking finally, you could leave. It's not like you hate your job, quite the opposite actually! But today just felt more like a pain in the ass...

FELL:

You yawned when you reached your home. You can't wait to reach your boyfriend... You passed through the door, greeting Papyrus who sat on the couch reading a magazine of some sort. He nodded at you, but quickly resumed his reading.

You went up the stairs, reaching your boyfriend's bedroom. Sans jumped up when you abruptly opened the door. "JESUS! My god sweetheart... Don't do that." You couldn't help but giggle at the sight of Sans' face. "Sorry...not." he playfully rolled his eyes and chuckled.

He looked at you with anticipation when you went up to him and sat on his lap. His skull flashed red, as he grinned flirty at you. "Shush...long day.." was all you had to say for Sans to lay with you on his bed, your body on top of his.

You laid for a bit, with comfortable silence...until- "How are you?" "Goddamnit Sans, I just wanna sleep. Shush..." He laughed lightly at your attitude, as he wrapped his arms around you securely.

EDGE:

You yawned when you passed through the big door, your eyes already looking for a certain skeleton. You just can't wait to be crushed with cuddles. You beamed when you saw him sat on the couch, reading a magazine.

"Papyrus.." this got Papyrus' attention, as he looked at you with happiness. "Ah! MY NUMBER ONE!" You giggled at his silliness, and engulfed him in a hug. Papyrus seemed to quickly melt into the warm hug, as he contently sighed.

"A LONG DAY, HUH?" You only nodded, already feeling yourself drift off. He chuckled at your tired state, as he let you cling to him. "Sweet Dreams.."

UNDERSWAP

You were so utterly exhausted... Today was a hard one.. You just want to go home, snatch your boyfriend, and relax under the covers.. it would be so much more rewarding than anything.

You sighed in relief when the clock on your wall signalled that it's the closing hour... Finally, you could leave. It's not like you hate your job, quite the opposite actually! But today just felt more like a chore...

SWAP:

You didn't even step a foot into your house, when you were suddenly tackled by your favorite skeleton. Sans!

You smiled tiredly at him, which he returned with a concerned look. "Welcome home, Y/N! I figured you'd be tired after work, so.. I made you Tacos!" Your mouth watered at the mention of Sans' cooking.. especially Tacos. They were seriously so good!

"That's really nice of you, Sans! But can we just...." He was looking at you expectant. "Lay down?" His whole face beamed at you as he quickly nodded. "Of course!"

You flashed red when he picked you up as if you weighted nothing, and went with you upstairs. What a sweetie...

CARROT:

You yelped when you almost tripped over the laying figure of Papyrus, near the door.. how can he just fall asleep so easily like this? You sighed, not having enough energy to scold him. You're that Sans is gonna do that anyways when he finds out.

"Oh, hey Sweetpea. You're back early." Papyrus lazily smiled at you. You nodded, sighing yet again. "Yeah...we had a short day today, I'm really tired..." Papyrus jumped up when he heard that. "Then let's relax together!" He seemed almost ecstatic, when he threw you over his shoulder, making his way upstairs.

You giggled at his eagerness. "I was afraid you'd never ask.." you could almost doze off just by laying on his shoulder.. he then gently laid you down on his bed, laying on top of you and hugging you close. His cheeks were painted with an orange color, as he just relished in the feeling of your body against his. "Sweet dreams..."

HORRORTALE

Work in Horrortale was so unbelievably harder....you felt like dying right here right now. Today was especially hard.. You just want to go home, and hide under the covers.. it would definitely ease you more.

You let out a sigh of relief when the clock on your wall signalled that it's the closing hour... Finally, you could leave. It's not like you hate your job, it's just that at the surface... it's not as dangerous as in the underground

HORROR:

You went out of the hospital, about to leave, but was stopped by the looming figure of Sans. He gazed at you with a permanent smile etched on his face. Despite the creepiness this giant always held with him, you felt more than relieved to see him here. You ran up to him and crushed him with your hug. "Sans! You came to walk me home?" Sans nodded, and carefully returned you your hug. He still felt like as if you were made from glass... The thought that Horror doesn't want to hurt you made you feel butterflies.

During your walk, you explained him how much tired you feel today, you just wanted to lay down, and sleep. After your brief explanation, Sans suddenly picked you up from the ground, and sat you on his shoulders. Your cheeks flushed red. "Sans..you don't have to." He shook his head. "You're tired...sleep.." he spoke as he led the whole way home, seems like you were too tired to deny him, as you felt yourself drifting away..

The last thing you heard Horror mumble, before succumbing to sleep, was; "Cute.."

AXE:

You beamed up at Papyrus, when you saw him standing outside the hospital, waiting for you. "Paps!" You went off, running towards him. "HUMAN!" He extended his arms, as you crushed into his hug. How lovely was it to see him!

"I DECIDES TO ACCOMPANY YOU ON YOUR WAY HOME, AS I'M AFRAID OF ANYTHING HAPPENING TO YOU, WHILE WALKING THROUGH HERE." You couldn't help the blush creeping up on your cheeks, when you heard how considerate he was. That's Paps alright. "Aww, thanks Paps." He nodded, taking a hold of your hand, and walking towards your destination.

"I'm tired Papyrus...today was really stressful..." Papyrus frowned at the sound of that, as he thought about the solution to this problem.. oh, he came up with an idea! Truly a brilliant idea! Unless you won't like it... "WELL IN THAT CASE- WOULD YOU LIKE TO START WITH YOUR SLEEP RIGHT NOW?" You looked at him in confusion. Right now? But you're in the middle of walking..

You quickly figured out how Papyrus meant it, when he picked you up bridal style, and carried you all the way home, in his arms... You won't lie. It was probably the most comfortable sleep you've had in awhile.

[venelona]

Piece Me Back Together - Chapter 1

After years of being convinced that the Underground and monster were a dream, Frisk is faced with a reality more twisted that she could ever imagine when the Barrier gets broken and monster race is turned into slaves for humans. However, her dimmed determination gets reignited when she sees an old friend and seeks to do everything she can to help him.

In this new year, I present you a Horrortale/Enslavement Frans fanfic! Like all my writings, it's been sitting in my lap for so long that I got tired of trying to make it better and just dropping what I have now!

I have like 10 more chapters written and will probably drop one every week, so I hope you guys enjoy!

[katyawriteswhump]

hotter than hell

For @steddieangstyaugust day 9 prompt, Upside Down; @steddiemicrofic august prompt, plug, 437 words, and also inspired by @astrangersummer week 15 prompt Royalty AU (it didn’t end up as quite that, but the prompt def. inspired this…)

Word: 437 Rating: M CW: dubious consent Tags: post season 4, Eddie lives… sort of, angst, sex, breath play, tentacles (nothing too explicit in this word count, sorry?!?), monster eddie. 

Summary: Steve sacrifices himself to protect the kids from the new ruler of the Upside Down…

...

Screeching demobats wrenched Steve awake. The King of the Upside Down jumped his bones, and grinded him into the ashy ground. “Ready to have your world rocked?”

“Always,” mumbled Steve. “Tho’ isn’t it your world, Munson?”

“Sure is, Babe.” Eddie lightly bit Steve’s earlobe. Steve hissed, squirmed. “And you’re the heart of it.”

…

One month earlier

It didn’t feel like victory. They’d lost Eddie, possibly Max. But they’d vanquished Vecna. Why, despite Eleven’s efforts, was the Upside Down still leaking evil?

They journeyed back. Somehow, Eddie had risen as the new overlord—bat-shit crazy, more powerful than Vecna, and commanding demo-beasties with a flap of a bejewelled hand.

To Steve, he was the scariest monster yet. And HOT, DAMN.

They fled under scarlet skies—awash with wailing guitars and endlessly unspooling cassette-tapes—and through Eddie’s shattered trailer. Naturally, Steve climbed toward safety last. Eddie’s talons—he’d gotten claws to match the batwings—yanked him back.

“How about it?” Eddie lifted Steve clean off the floor in a chokehold. “Be my vanilla cupcake, Harrington, and I won’t munch their throats out.”

“S-seriously?”

“Stay,” commanded Eddie. “Stay… willingly. I saw you stripping my scales from me with your eyes. You wanted this bat-lord naked.”

True.

Plus, I glanced into YOUR scary-ass eyes and saw a shadow of the Eddie Munson who stripped my soul bare.

Steve was kicking wildly, blacking out. Eddie finally released him.

“J-jesus,” spluttered Steve. “The shit I do for those k-kids.”

The gate magically plugged up, silencing Dustin’s cries.

…

When Eddie made love, Steve got fucked by the whole Upside Down.

While Eddie used Steve’s mouth, a fat tendril plugged his ass. Those moistly undulating vines also squeezed around his neck, while roughly frisking his dick. Goddamn… Gnnng!

“Go!” commanded Eddie, and Steve was abruptly freed of the vines. Eddie lifted Steve in his claws and took flight, ramming himself home, screeching adoringly. Steve’s orgasm blew his mind, before Eddie’s lips, still butter-soft, kissed each broken part of him better. 

Okay, life could be worse.

After dozing, Steve stirred in Eddie’s lap. Eddie’s eyes were suspicious slits. “You okay, Princess?”

“Peachy.” Steve blinked. Shit. Did he call out for his friends in his sleep again?

“You… uh, want me to unplug the gates, Stevie?”

God, I miss them all so much.

Steve lifted his lolling head, seeking out that hint of soul in Eddie’s otherwise cold dead eyes. Still there. Not enough to let this monster back into the world. “I miss pizza.” He kept his voice light, un-wibbly. “Otherwise… Only need you, my King.”

Eddie grinned, pink lightning cracked, and his possessive kiss totally fried Steve’s brains.

...

Thanks for reading!

All my ST stuff on AO3

[mysteriousbp]

So you said that Frisk had a brief encounter with Kloverko on their victory lap, how did it go? How did Frisk react to their friends being revived?

The encounter between Kanako and Frisk went well… Meanwhile, Clover was just questioning who the mysterious spirit with Frisk is and how a human spirit is connected to a human. And my AU version of Chara doesn't really care about people until they form a bond with them, so Chara was neutral about Kloverko until they went into deep thought about the situation.

(Side note: Kanako can only see and hear Clover, while Frisk can only see and hear Chara. Clover and Chara can see and hear each other.)

And the second part. Well...

Let's just say it was the happiest moment in Frisk's life… Since they were born…

[utdrmv-confession-box]

Transcript: The fact that toriel is often made out to be quicker to anger than asgore annoys me so much. Her anger is the slow burn disappointed type . Which One of them declared a war and couldn't take it back when they regretted it? Not toriel!

I also think it takes away one of the most interesting parts of them both where asgore is the more guilty and remorseful party because he regrets his anger and how quick he is to lose his temper, where toriel is the opposite when she's mad it doesn't consume her the way it does him and it simmers In the back of her mind. She's not over what happened and is still mad about it because she's still mad at what happend. Asgore regrets his anger and where it led him while toriel lives with it. This adds to their dynamic where she is still (rightfully) mad at him and he let's her because he knows she's right and that he deserves her scorn. They only start to make up in post pacifist when they look back on their time with chara and asriel she's not actively harassing him or avoiding him she just doesn't love or like him very much anymore and the Fandom often erases this part of their dynamic to make her out to he the aggressor in their divorce and it's like..no they are basically strangers to each other post pacifist and after she says her speech to him they move on.

Fics where asgore 'stand up' to her are weird to me for this reason because her arc in undertale is her standing up to him! And calling him out! And asgore in the game both knows she's right and accepts it as he's so much more empathetic to her than the Fandom understands since he does still love her and he knows he wronged her in a way he'll never be able to make up. Undyne also knows asgore is wrong at the end of pacifist so she's very much also on toriels side she only disagrees with her on neutral runs where frisk killed people since undyne cares very much about every monster and even one of them dying (toriel included) is enough for her to hate us even more. Undyne is more than just asgores loyal lap dog and treating her like she needs to constantly defend him when he's a grown ass man is so icky to me like she's smart enough to come to her own decision about toriel and while she respects asgore she also trust his judgment! She's not going to come to his defense when he both doesn't need it and she's on the lady criticizing hims side!

[songfell-ut]

Okay ONE more genderbend

No, I have not embarked upon assembling gay Songfell piece by piece instead of writing Songfell, I just had another brain rot that's actually been incredibly helpful: in addition to moving and my arm possibly needing surgical intervention (ortho is not being super helpful), I've been focused so much on Songfell's plot that what I've got just doesn't look right.

Well, making my teeny AU made me realize that I've been so busy plotting, I forgot the luv. This has reminded me of why I wrote the dang story in the first place: we all want to see a giant monster simping over a determined, musically inclined human. I will be fixing up chapter 35 and hopefully getting 'er up this month.

...but yes with the help of @skyartworkzzz I did dictate and sort of type this huge drabble, almost a one-shot, and you can't stop me it's too late ah ha ha ha

“Yer doin’ it again.”

Frisk was so lost in thought that it took him a moment to realize Sans had said something, and another to properly hear it. “Doing what again?” the priest inquired, sitting up from his half-slouch over the table.

The giant skeleton sauntered over and tapped the wood surface. Frisk thought at first that he meant the plates from dinner they hadn’t cleaned up yet, but no: Sans was looking at Frisk’s hands. “That thing with yer fingers. Ya wiggle ‘em sometimes when you’re really out of it.” Sans demonstrated with a waggle of his own phalanges, seating himself not far away. “Are ya mad about somethin’? If you wanna wring somebody’s neck, I can do it for ya,” he added generously.

Frisk snorted, scratching his ribs through the shirt he wore under his robe, noticing how Sans’ gaze instantly followed the motion. Better stay on topic; he wasn’t eager for more questions about why human males only sort of had boobs or whether there was as much hair on his chest as his head. “I think I’ve made my stance on murder clear, Sans,” said the High Priest, trying very hard to sound stern.

“Nope, doesn’t wring a bell,” the skeleton said cheerfully, and was rewarded with a snrrk that made him grin about a mile wide. “Ha! I win. Now ya hafta tell me what you’re doin’.”

“That was a good one,” Frisk admitted, rubbing his nose. “All right, then.” He looked at his hand, sobering a little, tapping the thumb and forefinger together. “Here.” With no further warning, he snapped his fingers so hard that Sans flinched. “Sorry,” said the priest, offering a rueful smile that made Sans scowl back. “I just took the barrier off the closet in the corner of my office. Would you please go and open it for me, and bring me what’s inside?”

Nonplussed, the boss monster obediently vanished. A few long moments later, he reappeared with something that looked like a toy in his massive hands. “Ta-da,” he said gravely, trying to hold it properly.

Frisk laughed and took the guitar from the skeleton’s loose grasp. “Thank you,” he said, tilting it onto its side. Something rattled, and he turned the instrument over to shake out a small tortoiseshell pick. “This, sir, is the answer you seek. Sometimes when I’m tired, I’ll think about playing it.” He slid off the chair to retrieve the pick and find a patch of floor to sit cross-legged. “I haven’t touched this in months,” he murmured, stroking the long neck.

He missed Sans’ swift glance at his lap, and how the skeleton’s cheekbones flickered with a few shades of red before he said, “Weird. I get bein’ too busy, but why’s it locked up? Habit?”

“Sort of. When I first moved up here, I thought the servants might take it.” Sans made a disbelieving sound, and Frisk clarified, “I don’t mean they’d steal it. I was afraid that if His Holiness knew it was here, he’d have them remove it.”

The skeleton disbelieved louder. “The hell? Does the Church think they’re evil or somethin’?” He settled on the floor a few feet away.

“Not evil, no,” said Frisk, still examining the guitar, “just…frivolous. If I had a piano or a cello up here, that would be one thing, but this is considered uncouth.” The young man plucked gingerly at the top string, and winced. “Now that’s bad. Positively E-vil.” He plucked again, then fiddled with a knob.

Sans had a good chuckle at that, and didn’t hide his further amusement at how the sound wobbled up and down, but he stayed quiet while Frisk hummed under his breath and turned another knob, wibb-wobbling the string’s pitch till it was as accurate as the young man could get by ear. Then Frisk tried the next string, humming, adjusting till it was in tune with the E; when the next string proved accurate almost immediately, though, he caught Sans’ disappointment and very, very gently turned the knob the wrong way to make it go wooooaaaaooo.

The boss monster cackled in appreciation. “Do it again,” he urged Frisk, reclining on his side and scooting closer for a better look.

“I can’t do it too much,” Frisk replied. Far from minding an audience literally looming over him, he found himself rather pleased to show Sans how the knobs worked. “This works by tightening or loosening the strings, see?” He demonstrated again, letting the skeleton lean in close enough to almost bump heads. “I haven’t replaced these in a while, but I don’t have any spares. I should probably take care of that before I play anything.”

Sans cocked his enormous head. There was a long moment of Frisk conspicuously not stopping and in fact continuing to tune the thing, and the boss monster nodded in understanding that guitar strings were probably not okay, either; however, the truth was that he was watching with such interest that Frisk was too flattered to stop. It was stupid to toodle around with a poorly maintained instrument just to show off, but all.he could think was that he should’ve known Sans wouldn’t care whether this was a waste of time or not, or that he could barely play anything.

The skeleton was evidently thinking the same thing. “So your boss wouldn’t want you doin’ this?” he asked. “The hell does he care as long as yer work’s gettin’ done? He’s not your friggin’ dad. …Is he?”

Frisk played a few mildly amused notes. “No. But I was only nineteen when they made me High Priest, and he thought I was going to be easy to manipulate.” Sans snorted in such derision that Frisk felt a little tingle of pride. “It was exactly the sort of thing he would have done to keep me in my place,” the latter continued. “He’d also tattle to my actual father, and he would have said something. But I’m of age now, so…” He tried another chord, and let it trail off.

“Why’d they teach you ta play it if it’s that bad?” the boss monster persisted. “Ya know all yer music stuff from school, right?”

Frisk tapped the pick absently on the guitar’s belly. “Yes, but not from the monks. I learned it when we were all working in the kitchen.”

Sans lifted a browbone. “Was that a normal thing? Learnin’ discipline or humility or somethin’?”

“Well, yes, and no.” The young man tried a short scale, correcting the last note. “Everyone in our dormitory was being punished. We had to go down after dinner and clean up after the entire monastery.” He couldn’t help wincing. “I hadn’t done anything wrong, so they let me sit with a lay worker who played guitar to entertain everyone. I sang with him and watched how it was done, and nobody told on me for a few months.”

“‘Lay’ worker?” Sans’ tone was much too innocent, and he answered Frisk’s don’t you dare squint with a cheerful “I didn’t know gettin’ laid was a church job.”

The High Priest snorted so hard that he almost dropped the pick. “That’s not what that means,” he informed his apprentice, barely fighting down his amusement before he resumed, “It just means someone employed by the church who hasn’t taken any vows.” But his smile faded to a grimace. “You’re actually not far off. That’s…” Frisk played a few more notes at random. “I think I was seventeen. There was a bad cold going around the monastery. Most of the acolytes got over it in a few days, but everyone in charge – the abbot, the higher deacons, et cetera – all caught it at once.” He strummed an overly dramatic chord. “I’m still impressed how bad things got. It was chaos for a solid month. Anyone who wanted to really misbehave had a good time.”

“Yeah?” To Frisk’s disappointment, the skeleton moved away and turned to lie flat on his spine, stretching his huge limbs across the workroom floor. “So who got laid? Thought humans don’t count it if you’re both guys.”

Frisk was now glad that Sans wasn’t watching: his entire head felt beet-red. “No, it was women working in the outbuildings,” he said with decent composure, trying another chord. “They were supposed to stay out of the monastery, but someone bribed the guards into letting them ‘visit’ back and forth. When the abbot found out, he sent off every female in a five-mile radius and had us take over their work. But then they started writing letters claiming paternity—I think there were over thirty acknowledged pregnancies after the dust settled.”

It was Sans’ turn to snort. “Holy shit. That fast?”

“That fast,” Frisk said shortly.

The boss monster scrunched up his nasal bone, obviously remembering what Frisk had told him about humans’ treatment of unwed mothers. “Well, that was a shitty thing to do. Not like any of those guys could marry ‘em, right?”

Frisk hesitated. How to put this? “Yes, but the ladies knew that. For a lot of them, it was a…we’ll call it a different opportunity,” he said, much more rueful than judgmental. “Noble families want their sons educated at the monastery, but it’s also to keep them from having their own children.” He flipped the pick over the backs of his fingers, a trick he was inordinately pleased to still do. “I will say this. If someone does leave a girl in difficulty, he’s expected to provide at least something for her and the child. Their families had a lot of questions.” He sighed in exasperation. “Word got all the way back to His Majesty. It was a huge mess. You could say the ‘lay’ worker was the only one who shouldn’t be called that.”

He expected Sans to laugh, but when Frisk peeked at him, the boss monster seemed more pensive than amused; his sockets were fixed on the basket of letters. It took Frisk a second to guess what he might be thinking, and when Sans finally shifted back onto his side to look at him, he found the priest glaring at him, daring him to even ask about his own participation. “Glad nobody was a hardass about you gettin’ blamed,” the skeleton said amiably, and Frisk relaxed a little. “Ya know what? Never mind all that crap.” Sans shifted and settled onto his side again. “Knock yerself out on that thing, I don’t care. I’m not gonna tell on ya.”

The young man sat for a moment, tapping the pick against the strings one after another. Sans was right: no need to get into how he had had to literally hide from his peers trying to drag him along to meet some of their new “friends,” or how his father – a prolific creator of children – had publicly commended Frisk for behaving like a true man of the Church, but hinted privately that he would understand if his son started sowing some oats in the very near future. It wasn’t just normal for a gentleman of his rank, but more or less expected to prove his manhood and create more magically gifted progeny of his own, whether or not he was married. Being a busy clergyman had saved Frisk from direct pressure thus far, but— “Here’s a good one,” he said to the skeleton, who obligingly scooted closer. “Don’t laugh, if you please.”

“Not unless it’s funny,” Sans said lazily.

Fair enough. Frisk shut his eyes for a moment, letting his fingers arrange themselves the way they had whenever he could sneak in some practice back when he was just a priest, a former student who could have a damn second to himself that he didn’t have to account for. People had popped their heads in to check if he really was just playing a borrowed guitar, but he was regarded as such a goody-goody that nobody gave him a hard time. He had stumbled across a few young men taking private moments for themselves or with each other, but he never told…

Well, no point getting angry now. It was too nice to sit near-ish the fire and do nothing useful, just empty his mind of everything but what to do to make the sounds he wanted to play. He wasn’t alone, either; the massive skeleton looming over his shoulder was a warm, solid presence that made the High Priest feel less like he was being monitored and more protected, accepted for whatever he wanted to do—just the pleasure of his company. That was what he’d told Sans back when he gave him his new clothes, wasn’t it?

Now there was an idea, so interesting that Frisk barely noticed himself picking out the bare bones – ha – of a favorite old song. He should really get Sans another set of clothing, something he could change into that wasn’t ragged canvas or just nothing at all. Not that Sans was particularly modest: he hadn’t been bothered by the notion of Frisk forcibly removing him from the bathroom, reminding the human that they were both male and he didn’t have anything private to see. Was that why he kept asking Frisk questions about humans that he could find in any of his textbooks? The notion of fleshy bits that changed consistency and produced weird fluids at inconsistent intervals couldn’t be an appealing one, not to a being made of solid bone.

…

Why did that thought suddenly bother him?

…Dirt, he’d just played a very bad note. The priest mumbled an apology and adjusted his grip, chagrined at ruining a peaceful moment with more of that nonsense. Not for the first time, he reminded himself that it was not all right to let his imagination charge off after someone who was not just under his care, but in his power; it was immoral at best to use Sans to investigate whether his libido – always plenty strong, simply refusing to attach itself to anyone, no matter how attractive they were – might just be resistant to humans. He’d keep relaxing and enjoying his apprentice’s literal support—Sans was close enough that Frisk caught himself about to lean back against his gigantic lower ribs. That was what most top scholars called a “no-no.”

…Was it, though? When Frisk glanced up, he saw Sans closing his sockets, and the skeleton’s expression and body language were so peaceful that Frisk had to smile again. Never mind thoughts of fleshy bits and bones, just enjoy having him here. No more recurring thoughts of how monsters didn’t care about gender or how fond of him Sans might be. No wondering what bone felt like on fleshy bi—on totally normal skin, or whether Sans would let him poke the gaps in his metacarpals…or what bone might feel like on his hands, maybe running along his—

And something happened that Frisk had never experienced before, at least contextually. He was a healthy young man, and he had had his body act out at complete random just as often as anyone else; what had not happened was specifically thinking of one person who was right here and then having a specific reaction to that specific person. And it wasn’t—stopping at all, it was getting worse and he had to focus harder (ha!) on distracting himself. Maybe if he played louder?

There was a sharp sound and a burst of pain, and Frisk dropped the guitar, Sans jerking upright as the priest clutched his hand. “Frisk! What happened?! You okay?”

“I’m fine. The string snapped,” Frisk said tersely, holding it up for the skeleton to see the near-bleeding welt on the back of his hand. At least it was the ideal excuse to rise to his knees and lean forward enough for his nightshirt to hang forward, because the burst of adrenaline had not quieted anything down. “It’s my fault, I even said I shouldn’t play the damn thing—”

And of course, that was Sans’ cue to scowl and give Frisk another jolt by seizing his wrist between his thumb and forefinger, holding him utterly still in a huge, inescapable, but gentle grasp. It was for the best that Frisk froze in place, heat flooding his senses as the boss monster summoned a wisp of green magic. “There we go,” he said after a moment. “All better?” And it might have been okay if he hadn’t absently rubbed Frisk’s forearm with his thumb.

Neither of them would ever be sure exactly how Frisk did it, but the next second, he was somehow on his feet and turning away in a blur of “Thankyouvermch”; before Sans could get a solid look at him, the human was already disappearing into the bathroom and slamming the door.

~

Sans knelt in silence long enough for the blankness to recede and confusion to step into its place. What the fuck was that? Was Frisk really that upset over one crappy judgment call?

…Or…Sans had been watching very close – almost got caught that one time – and he wasn’t sure that he hadn’t seen something. He had read that human males just kind of did that sometimes without meaning to and it was considered hugely embarrassing, which would explain why Frisk had run off like that. Funny, he had never had that problem before in all the time Sans had spent around him, though the boss monster had admittedly tried to avoid looking.

Humans were weird. Sans picked up the guitar very delicately, examining the broken string. Stupid damn thing, he had half a mind to throw it in the fireplace—but that would probably not help. Besides, Frisk had been really happy whenever he wasn’t talking about other humans being stupid. Sans had never seen him so relaxed; it was almost a given that the only people who could boss Frisk around didn’t want him to.

At least Frisk had felt comfortable enough to play with it in front of him. …The guitar. Comfortable enough to play the guitar. Yep. It kind of suck—it was kind of shitty that the dumb thing was unusable now, and fucking stupid that someone this rich and powerful couldn’t get something so simple without…hmmm. Sans daintily retrieved the pick, and got up.

~

Frisk was debating how to leave the bathroom in the most face-saving way when a sound made him nearly fall over: the workroom’s double doors were open and Sans was talking, presumably to the guards. What the—the priest grabbed a towel, speed-dabbed the rest of the cold water away, adjusted his garments, and…hesitated, milliseconds before striding into view wearing his nightclothes. Instead he listened, and thus heard a guard saying, “…you mean…er…sir?”

“Is there some other meanin’ of ‘Gimme some new strings for this thing’?” Sans’ voice was so exaggeratedly polite that Frisk didn’t know whether to laugh or bang his head on the doorframe. “His Eminence has graciously allowed me t’learn about human stuff, and all I can learn from this thing is that guitars need all the strings or they sound like crap. So the next time somebody delivers stuff up here, they can bring ‘em. Right?”

Frisk could almost hear the guards giving each other uncertain looks. “Er…”

“Right. Thank you!” With obscene cheer, the giant skeleton slammed the doors shut. Then he opened them again. “Oh. Wait. Here.” The dirty dishes flew from the table to the trolley, which was shoved out, and the doors slammed again. “There we go, boss,” Sans said over his shoulder. “You good now?”

“…I am. Thank you.” The human took a deep breath, and let it out. “I’m going to take a bath. Read the chapter on topical analgesics, please, and we’ll discuss it before bed. …Sleep. Before we sleep.” And he shut the door again before Sans could respond. He had a lot to think about.

[shimbongulus]

Thorns and Stars

(Warning! There are spoilers for Undertale Yellow's pacifist ending up ahead! Don't read if you haven't played it! Or do. I'm not your dad.)

The sun fractalized through the branches of trees in the park, making Martlet squint a bit as she relaxed on a wooden bench. 

The days since freedom came had been absolutely wonderful. Sunlight for the first time in most monsters’ lives, a decent peace with humanity, and a chance for a new start in a world they got to explore all anew.

Martlet had been doing her fair share of exploring around Ebbott, at least, but she wasn’t as young as she used to be. Her brief morning flight was evidence of that as she nursed a mildly aching wing, her fingertips massaging sore muscles and brushing over feathertips that frayed with age. 

She rued how unruly her down had gotten as she aged, but she reminded herself that was a sign of age - she got to see her down get all unruly, and feel her muscles lose the endurance they once had. It meant she had made it far enough to see the sun, that fabulous burning yellow disc that Monsterkind had dreamed of for so long.

But at the moment her wings weren’t the only things aching.

For the past decade and then some, she had been coping with the loss of a friend who had been in her life briefly but brilliantly. Starlo, Dalv and Ceroba had been excellent companions in the process of mourning and grief, and she had managed to grow around it, but it still bristled its thorns from time to time. 

Was there a world where they got to age with her? Was there a world where they came at this point in time? Perhaps.

Suddenly, a childlike voice echoed from Martlet’s right. “Is your wing alright?” She turned to look, and immediately recognized the figure of Frisk Dreemurr, the human name that every monster knew and would know for centuries to come.

“Oh, just fine. Things start to ache as  you get old. It’s whatever.” There was something incredibly familiar about Frisk’s presence and energy, something that seemed to summon the sweetness of the rose that dwelt somewhere within the thorns of grief.

“Say… you’re Frisk, huh?” They gave a nod, “Yup. What’s your name?”

“Martlet. I’m originally from Snowdin, but I’m currently staying in an apartment in New Waterfall.” 

Frisk gave that smile that caused the rose of grief to give its fragrance in Martlet’s soul even stronger as they extended a hand and shook with a firmness that shook her to her foundations. “Nice to meet ya, Martlet.” Suddenly, their face drew sympathetic. “Oh, I’m sorry, did I say something?” 

“W-Wha?” Small flecks of wetness on the periphery of her vision grew to Martlet’s awareness. “O-Oh, uh, it’s.. It’s not you. You just…”

She took a deep breath, trying to compose herself as she spoke the sentence, “You remind me of an old friend of mine. In a really good way.” She brushed some of the tears away, but a few miniscule replacements came behind them. Martlet tried her best to repress the sadness and lean into the bittersweetness that welled up from within her. 

Frisk pulled to a seat beside them, adjusting their blue-and-purple-striped jacket to keep the untimely spring cool out. “Who were they, if you don’t mind me asking?” 

For a moment, Martlet found it hard to summon words. What words could describe that brilliant, bright little candle that had come into their life for that moment those years ago? Friend? Compatriot? Companion? 

“Clover. Their name was Clover,” was all that she could manage for a moment, her blue bowlcut shifting in a slight breeze as a few tears flecked from her chin to her lap. 

Her voice shook slightly as she spoke, “T-They were a human, the last one to come before you. I h-helped them through Snowdin and to the Dunes…” Frisk put a hand on the tip of her shoulder, as if to ask permission to hug them. Martlet nodded as the child stretched an arm across as much of her back as they could reach.

“They were a really, really good friend. They were really strong, and really compassionate, like you.” Something seemed to wake up in Frisk as their brows raised and they asked, “Did they wear a cowboy hat?”

Martlet nodded, the tears slackening a little bit. “Yeah - yeah, they did.” Frisk seemed to look down into their lap, pondering as she continued, “They had a little toy gun, too. They loved coffee, and sweets, and pancakes, and dancing, and adventuring… They were tough as nails, and stronger than anyone could have ever believed.”

Frisk looked up and frowned a bit as they quietly nodded. Martlet then realized Frisk had obviously seen the container. “How did it happen?” 

Martlet’s head hung a bit as another few tears trickled down. “While they journeyed, they heard about the wrongs we’d suffered. They g-gave up their soul s-so that we…” Martlet tried to finish the sentence, but they could speak no more, and a pathetic little squeak came from her mouth as the tears seemed to come unfettered and undammed, coming in a small shower from her face as Frisk hugged her that extra little bit harder.

They squeezed Martlet’s feathered shoulders as the bird-monster cried, whispering, “It’s okay, it’s okay,” to her. Martlet’s tears finally slackened a bit as she reciprocated the hug to Frisk. 

Suddenly, the human looked up at them with bright eyes full of an idea. “Would you mind if I ran and got you something?” Martlet tried to voice a “sure,” but all that they could manage was a little nod as their breath still failed them from the emotional moment shared with the one who helped break the barrier.

She sat and watched as the human ran down the street, past the old brick building and away to some corner of this new town. She was alone now, for the moment, and wondered how Starlo and Ceroba were doing. Last she had seen Dalv, he was making moves to a more open stretch of ground to the east of the mountain, good for growing the fields of corn he excelled at growing.

Starlo and Ceroba were staying somewhere in New Home, she knew, and she wondered if they would ever complete the move up to Surface Home, but as far as she knew they were happy as it was. 

Martlet smiled a bit. Even if Clover was gone, she still had a good crowd of friends. She started to make a mental note to arrange a get-together between Frisk and everyone else, when she felt a tugging at her sleeve. 

As she turned, she saw Frisk, who had made their way back in front of her with nary a sound, giving her a start for a moment, “Aah! Oh, gosh, you scared the feathers off of me.” Frisk smirked, “Really? Looks like you still have ‘em all.” 

She shook her head, “You know what I mean.” It was then that she noted Frisk’s hand was clasped around something small. “Hm? What’s that you’ve got there?” Frisk smiled, “Something I found in the Underground when I was making my way through.”

Their hands unclasped to reveal a little six-pointed star with small brass knobs sticking out at each star-point. A word shone out from the center of the well-polished and well-kept keepsake, “DEPUTY.” 

Martlet’s hands involuntarily stretched out for the star, which Frisk eagerly handed to them. She caressed the thing and felt its contours, caressing even the pin which once held this to the chest of the human she had known so well.

She smiled a bright, happy smile at Frisk as the sweet rose that lived inside grief gave off a perfume they had not smelled since the thornbush had first grown. She felt love emanate from the little badge and embraced it, taking her arms and physically embracing the love - or at least its momentary source, Frisk, which Frisk was all too happy to accept.

“Thank you, Frisk.”  

Martlet could not explain it if she had tried, nor if she had been the most knowledgable monster in existence, but for a moment it was as though she felt Clover there, with her. As if she could hear the words murmuring through some consciousness of hers, “It’s okay. It’s all okay. You’re free now.” 

The thorns seemed as they were all coming up roses now as she enjoyed the remainder of the afternoon with a new friend.

(Thanks for reading! Be sure to go give this fic a kudos on Ao3 too!)

[defire]

Back to the Dregs Part 7

Part 1 Next

Content: nonsexual noncon touch, captivity, fear of sexual assault, memories of child abuse, manhandling, caretaker turned whumper, ptsd being triggered

Michael inspected the cuff he was wearing, especially the weld where the chain met the cuff. He ran his tongue over his teeth, hating that he was going through this stupid decision again.

Break out somehow and risk getting caught and beaten within an inch of his life–maybe having the soles of his feet burned again–or sit here and get beaten a little less, maybe.

Looking back at the other times he'd berated himself over choosing to stay, or failing to escape, he felt his mind changing a bit.

"I mean, what the fuck was I supposed to do?" He muttered, twisting the chain gently till it locked up.

The manacle itself was padlocked shut, so that wasn't going to be its weak point.

The door opened and Michael recoiled from his study, putting his hands in his lap and going pale.

It was Chris, with his soft dark hair framing his pocked face with an unpleasant contrast.

"So, how does a bag of cereal with a cup of milk sound?" Chris said.

Michael was a bit too nervous to answer, finding his teeth clenched tightly as he wondered if Chris had seen what he was doing.

Chris set the bag of cereal on the bed next to Michael's feet and sat down, offering the plastic cup.

Michael stared at it, then raised his eyes to Chris. Around him, he felt a bit more comfortable being honest about how he was doing.

"I'm not really hungry."

"How bad did you get it?" Chris narrowed his eyes. "Can I see?"

"No!" Michael grabbed the edge of his shirt, leaning back. "Why does everyone--everyone want to see my stomach or something?"

"Sooner or later you're gona have to take it off." Chris said gently.

"You can tear it off my cold dead body." Michael snarled.

"What are you so sensitive about?" Chris said, a flicker of suspicion crossing his face. "Hm? I won't tell anybody."

"Chris, what the fuck kind of fool do you take me for?" Michael said. "I've been kidnapped and now I'm being asked to strip. The answer is a resounding hell no."

Chris huffed, took a sip of the milk and raised his eyebrows at the flavor.

"Look Michael, that's not what this is." He said, way too calmly.

"Then what is it about?!" Michael demanded, jerking his bruised wrist at the heavy chain.

Chris frowned, finishing the milk and tossing the cup to the ground.

Then he stood up and walked toward Michael, who scooted away to the furthest corner of the bed. The movement tensed the muscles around his ribs, making him grimace as he pulled his legs up as far as they'd go toward his chest.

"Michael," Chris said in a warning tone. "It's me or them. You want Jordie doing it?"

"Off my dead body." Michael spat.

Chris suddenly moved at him and Michael cringed hard under his arm and hissed, expecting immediate pain. The big man's hands landed on his arms, though, fingers closing around them.

"No, please," Michael struggled and yanked at them, tears springing to his eyes. "Don't do it."

"Don't do what?" Chris grunted in the effort it took to restrain him, now roughly patting down his free arm. "What are you hiding, Michael?"

"Nothing!" Michael shrieked, and began crying as Chris frisked both his arms very thoroughly, checking his hands between each finger, then his armpits, then the nape of his neck under the ponytail.

"Don't!" Michael shrieked hoarsely, ineffectually jerking at his arms and trying to kick him. "Fuck, please, don't."

Chris's fingers traced over his neck again. He was frowning.

At that moment, the door opened again, letting in Pete and several others crowding in behind.

"What is going on in here?" Pete shouted.

Chris let Michael go and got off the bed. Michael sobbed and sniffled under his arm, trying to stop. All he could feel and think was his foster father's fingers digging into his neck as he slammed his forehead into the glass, and the burning points all down his arms. "I don't want you to ever feel like you don't have a family, son." He couldn't let himself think about that. He couldn't let anyone see his arms.

Michael shuddered, instinctively tightening his ponytail before he dried his eyes on his pj shoulder, head down in shame.

"Chris?" Pete raised his eyebrows. "Really?"

"Didn't mean to sir." Chris said, eyes down. "I thought he had a weapon."

"Well thank you Chris," Pete said dryly. "Looks like you've moved up our schedule."

"He doesn't want his shirt off for some goddamn reason." Chris said a little resentfully.

"Unchain him, Jordie." Pete said. "Michael? You going to behave?"

"Sure, if I'm not going to get fucking molested."

"No promises." Gabe jeered.

Michael winced at the hands on his arms as he stood up from the bed.

"Turn around, face the wall." Pete said.

Michael gritted his teeth and did. Turning his back to them was like baring your neck to a wolf--terrifying. It was a familiar feeling that pricked at his eyes. At least they weren't taking off his shirt, he thought, as the zip tie tightened painfully around his bruised wrists.

"Come on Jordie--ah!" He hissed as it sank into the bruises. "Come on man, it doesn't need to be that tight!"

"Too late." Jordie slapped his head.

"Come on." Pete said, and Jordie gave him a little push toward the door.

Michael fell into an uneasy silence as he was walked back to the halfway-room created by the crates.

Light from the big window at the end--which turned out to be a loading door--flooded the entire space, blending the smells of warm wood and gasoline with golden sunlight and machinery downstairs.

Michael noted the evidence of maybe fifty workers' labor overnight. Crate had been loaded in by the hundreds, and he'd been too fast asleep to be woken up by any of it. This time, there was a chair and a tripod set up in front of the crates, with a full on camera attached to a laptop, angled a little away from the chair.

Jordie shoved him down into it with a painful jolt. Michael's hair was already getting rustled up by the manhandling.

He had a knot of dread in his stomach when he looked up into that camera and saw his face in the screen to the right. Half of his face was looking pretty battered, which wasn't surprising, since it felt like he was wearing playdough on his eye. A swollen, split cheek and a black eye made him look... like a kid again, he thought instinctively.

He looked away in distress, set his jaw and focused his gaze on Jordie, reminding himself that he wasn't a little kid, and he could've taken that guy if his hands weren't bound.

Pete stood behind the camera, watching the little monitor.

"Alright guys," He said. "It's go time."

Taglist:

@fleur-a-whump @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees @whumped-by-glitter @whump-writings @mimostic @tildeathiwillwrite

[northstarscowboyhat]

I still like to imagine what their family dinners might be like (nightmarish.) Anyway. These guys again <3

SOCK YOU SPOIL ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

PIBBY FLO OH MY GOSH. I love how terrified they look just by Frisk hugging them that is SO ADORABLE. Immediately making me picture Flo coming to terms with "Clover definitely wants kids some day but it's okay, that's not for a while so I have time to prepare" only for Clover to dump Frisk onto them out of the blue. Comedy gold. Flo cannot catch a break ever.

THE FAMILY SLEEPING PILE OH MY GOSH. CRYING. TEARS IN MY EYES THEY ARE SO CUTE. I really love Flo's expression here! Even if they're not as into it, they seem at least a bit more relaxed and accepting and I think that's adorable. I also love how closely together Clover and Flo are laying together (and Clover laying on Starlo OH MY GOD.....THE THEM....) THIS ONE MAKES ME SO HAPPY!!!

MARTH POOR MARTH. This crazy family is going to drive this man insane. I just the implication here of Alexander being like "Hey we gotta get you socializing more, come with me to dinner with Clover's family! It'll be good for you :)" and Marth agreeing only for it to be utter chaos with all these personalities in the same room. Stay strong Marth.

SOCK I AM SO AAAAAAAA. AAAAA!!! THESE GUYS!!!! I say this every time but they truly are doing laps in my brain and I love them so much!! Thank you for the amazing art and I WILL BE BACK TO GET YOU /aff

[literateowl]

For @fifthrideroftheapocalypse who asked to be surprised for election day show and tell

Carlos gently shakes TK awake. “Baby, we're here.”

TK blinks awake and rubs the sleep from his eyes. “I'm sorry I fell asleep.”

Carlos snickers, “As soon as we stopped talking, I knew you'd be out less than 10 minutes later.” The drive to the ranch is only about forty-five minutes but TK falls asleep on the way more often than not.

TK ignores the comment in favor of excitedly getting out of the car. “The kittens?”

“Tia Lucy said she’s in the barn with them. And we’re only helping to socialize them.”

“I know, let's go!” TK impatiently takes off running towards the building across the yard. Leaving Carlos affectionately shaking his head.

When Carlos catches up to him, TK is already holding a gray kitten and asking Tia Lucy about the names of the three other nine week old kittens in the litter. Sally, the cat that showed up pregnant on the ranch three months ago is perched on her lap. An orange kitten wanders up to Carlos when he approaches, so he scoops it up in one hand.

“Se llama Calabaza.” Tia Lucy says and then points at the one TK is holding. “This one is Luna, the gray and white one is Mariposa, and the other orange one is Tonto because he is one.”

Living up to his name, Tonto tries to pounce on and bite the end of Tia Lucy's shoelace.

“Ai yai yai,” she says as she stops the tiny kitten's antics. She moves Sally off her lap and gets up to leave. “You boys have fun. The chicken I made for lunch will be ready in about an hour.”

Sally seems to want nothing to do with humans except Tia Lucy and goes into a corner of the barn stall watching TK and Carlos with her judging green eyes.

“Babe, they're so cute and tiny,” TK coos, and goes to pick up Mariposa. He looks adorable holding a kitten in each hand and Carlos's heart melts completely.

Carlos grabs the other orange kitten and sits down with them on a hay bale.

“Yeah, they are.”

They play with the kittens and their toys and take several pictures to send to their friends. One of TK looking completely adorable and happy while holding all four cats in his lap gets added to Carlos's phone background slideshow.

After lunch with Tia Lucy, they come back to the barn for another half hour just because TK wants to say goodbye to the cats.

“Do I need to frisk you before we leave?” Carlos asks as they walk to the car.

TK laughs. “I would think you wouldn't want to get handsy with your Tia probably watching from the window.

Carlos blushes and shakes his head. “No, but I want to make sure you don't have a kitten hidden somewhere on you.”

TK holds up his hands innocently. “I don't! I promise!”

[punsmaster69]

4/NOV/20XX

[It's Sans' handwriting. It's a bit messy at points, appearing as if the book was on an unsteady surface.]

heya.

been a minute, huh?

a lotta minutes, actually.

about two day's worth of 'em.

papyrus finally ungrounded me from writing.

got my phone back, too.

on the condition that i, uh.

stop setting alarms.

won't go into detail about it.

besides, i gotta talk about 𝘁𝗼𝗱𝗮𝘆, right?

——

really do start a lot of these entries with 'woke up in x place, with x thing'.

....

it's another one like that.

this time, next to tori.

incredibly, i woke up before her.

the blanket over us looks like one of papyrus' spares.

haven't checked the time, but it must be early b——

[The line runs off the side of the page.]

....

hold on, i'm only able to use one hand, and this thing keeps slipping off my lap.

as much as i don't want to, gonna see if i can move my hand without waking her up.

——

[The writing returns to normal.]

ok. good now.

now that my nausea's subsided some, i realize i'm pretty hungry. but..

don't wanna move from this any more.

...

since she's still asleep.

——

"SANS, I-"

"(shh.)"

"(OH, SORRY.)"

"(I'M LEAVING TO TRAIN WITH UNDYNE. ACTUALLY, UNDYNE SAID SHE JUST WANTS TO TALK TODAY.)"

"(WHICH ISN'T TRAINING.)"

"(BESIDES THE POINT. I'M LEAVING, AND MS. TORIEL PROMISED TO TAKE CARE OF YOU TODAY!")

"(i need a babysitter?)"

"(IT'S FOR YOUR SAFETY!!)"

"(YOU WERE... STILL SORT OF WOBBLY, YESTERDAY.)"

"(DO YOU NEED ANYTHING BEFORE I LEAVE?)"

"(nope, i'm good-)"

"(actually. could you hand me what i didn't finish eating last night?)"

"(you don't need to heat it up.)"

"(BUT-)"

"(paps, you should probably go before undyne gets mad at you, too.)"

"(besides, i like cold stew.)"

"(...ALRIGHT. IF YOU SAY SO.)"

after handing me a spoon and my half-bowl of beef stew, papyrus nodded goodbye and dashed out the door.

——

.....

it's real quiet.

not used to being up as early as papyrus usually leaves for.

just me and... sleeping tori.

she must be comfortable.

our couch 𝙞𝙨 pretty nice.

——

couldn't help but wonder who's watching tori's kids, so i messaged frisk.

in response, i got a picture of grillby in tori's kitchen. he's handing flowey something.

at the bottom of the picture was frisk, blurry and way too close to the camera.

"why're you so close"

they then sent a picture of them even closer, equally blurry.

i sent a blurry close-up back.

"Why are YOU so close?"

"yeah"

"Yeah."

"cool"

"Cool."

that kid's going places.

——

"Your influence is rubbing off on me, it seems. I am usually one to be up sooner!"

tori jolted up.

"Ah! I did not mean to keep you in one place this whole time."

"not like i was going anywhere."

i wanted to lean back against her, for some reason.

...

nope.

"What is it that you do all day, when you are stuck inside like this?"

"sleep."

"...I think we have done plenty of that."

"Surely that is not all?"

"me and paps usually play games or something."

"been getting real into this puzzle one."

"do you wanna play something?"

"I am not very good at games..."

"i'll pick somethin' easy."

——

"This is turning out to be quite the house!"

"if you ignore the dirt floor."

"..And the lack of proper opening doors."

"at least we have windows."

"..holes for windows."

"Which one is your room?"

"this one."

"..You have made your walls dirt, as well."

"only the finest of materials in this house."

"Of course."

"here, i made a bed for you."

"Oh! Do we need to sleep in this one? I think we may have missed a few nights."

"nah, it's for setting your respawn point."

"...?"

"when we die, we'll be here instead of really far away."

"I see."

she stared at the bed.

"....."

"It is just the one?"

"mine's in my inventory."

"Please, place it down! Set your, 'respawn point,' in the house with me."

i placed it in the corner of my dirt room.

"....."

she moved hers into there as well.

"........"

"What? Surely you did not expect me to sleep in the living room."

"...side by side?

"The dual bed looks much more comfortable, does it not?"

"i can make you another one, if you want."

"........"

"No."

"This arrangement is good, I think."

"Space efficient!"

"....ok."

——

"Sans."

"yep?"

"Why are there holes everywhere?"

"avoiding death."

"You did not fix them."

"i'll get around to it."

"....."

"Nevermind."

"nevermind?"

"I am tempted to change our living arrangement."

"this poor dog would grow up in a broken home."

"You are its father now too?"

"you're its father?"

"Ha! Sure. Yes, I am the father."

"......"

"WHAT ON EARTH ARE YOU EVEN DOING?"

"O-Oh! Papyrus!"

"didn't hear you come in."

"YES, WELL, YOU SEEMED QUITE OCCUPIED WITH.. WHATEVER THIS IS."

"I DIDN'T WANT TO INTERRUPT."

"I'M GOING TO GET CHANGED, AND THEN I'LL BE RIGHT BACK DOWN."

i waited until paps was fully in his room.

then i ran inside, took my bed, and placed it a space away.

tori ran her character up to me (with the default skin) and punched me in my (also-default) face.

"ow."

"It is in the game!"

"would you punch me if you could?"

"No!"

"I would do this."

and she moved her character closer, nearly face-to-face with mine.

struggling to use the hotbar, she eventually threw a flower at me.

silly, sure.

but it..

made me really happy.

....

wish it didn't.

——

"Papyrus is here to watch you now, so.."

"...going home?"

"Unfortunately."

"THANK YOU FOR KEEPING AN EYE ON HIM, MS. TORIEL."

"Of course. It was a pleasure."

"Sans, thank you for playing with me. I had a lot of fun!"

"Even if we did not actually accomplish very much."

"come by anytime you wanna play again."

——

she messaged me to ask if i ended up moving the bed back or not.

....

more space efficient like that, anyway.

[imtrashraccoon]

First Day & Next Day

Day 2: Doomfanger

It had been difficult, but you'd somehow managed to convince both Sans and Papyrus not to kill either you or Frisk. You'd had to solve a lot of traps that were more like puzzles than anything too deadly, which Frisk had also been surprisingly helpful doing. You always knew they were especially clever but you'd never imagined they were this good a solving things.

After that, the brothers had decided to let you temporarily crash at their place. While you were hesitant to accept because you really didn't trust them, you didn't have much choice in the matter. It was too cold to even think about roughing it and neither of you were dressed for the weather.

So now you were relaxing on their couch with Frisk in your lap. Sans was sitting on the other side of the couch flicking through the television, purposely ignoring both of you, which was perfectly fine by you. Papyrus was somewhere in the house, but you hadn't really paid attention since it was becoming rather difficult to stay awake right now. Probably because of your head injury and then getting as cold as you had.

Frisk suddenly squirmed in your grip and scooted off your lap. Their attention was apparently grabbed by a particularly fluffy white feline that had plopped itself down in the entryway to the kitchen.

Papyrus emerged from the kitchen and glanced down at the cat by his feet. You didn't miss the way his eyelights seemed to glimmer as the feline rubbed up against his legs. Then his gaze flickered over to Frisk who merely smiled innocently up at him.

Papyrus bent down to be on the same level with them and he gathered the cat into his arms. "Would You Like To Pet Her?" he asked.

Frisk seemed elated and they quickly moved over to Papyrus.

You watched them for a moment before deciding to speak up. "Do you remember how to approach cats, Frisk?" you asked.

Frisk turned to you and signed, "Yes, slowly and let them come sniff your hand."

You nodded approvingly, "Exactly."

Frisk did exactly as you'd taught them to. They let the cat sniff their fingers before gently petting the top of her head and behind her ears. She seemed to love the attention and began actively rubbing her face against their hand.

You couldn't help but smile at the sight. You'd always loved cats but had always been too busy to justify having a pet. You just didn't feel good about leaving it alone for hours on end.

"Her Name Is Doomfanger," Papyrus said, which caused you to raise an eyebrow.

Frisk seemed to find it amusing as well, if the slight bouncing of their shoulders with silent laughter was anything to go by.

Papyrus was unfazed, if anything he didn't even seem to see the humour in the situation. He was apparently completely serious about the name, that or he had named her that ironically.

"Sooo, is there a story behind her name?" you asked carefully.

Sans snorted but didn't seem willing to share what was so funny to him.

Papyrus glared at his brother before he glanced back at you, his expression softening once again. "She Used To Be A Stray That I Rescued A Few Years Back Actually. While She May Not Look Scary, I Assure You That She Has Every Bit Earned The Name." As he explained, he absentmindedly ran his fingers through her lusciously thick coat.

You glanced at the purring furball in his arms and grinned. "I'm sure she's every bit the ferocious fighter that you are, Papyrus," you said teasingly.

Papyrus grinned as well and stood up, bringing Doomfanger over to you. "Would You Like To Hold Her?" he asked gently.

You looked up at him in surprise, "You think she wouldn't mind?"

"Hardly, You Seem To Have A Little Experience With Cats, So I Do Not See Why Not."

Papyrus gently passed the cat off to you and she immediately curled up in your lap, seemingly happy to receive attention from anyone. You gently stroked the sides of her face, admiring how soft and well taken care of her fur was.

Frisk came back over to the couch and gave Doomfanger more attention. They were being especially gentle which you were rather proud of. You carefully moved a few stray strands of hair out of their face and patted their head affectionately.

Feeling the familiar sensation of someone watching you, you glanced up to meet Papyrus' own gaze. Apparently, he'd been staring for a few minutes and he quickly looked away when he realized you'd caught him.

"Is something wrong?" you asked softly, your brows furrowing slightly as you spoke.

He shook his head. "No, Nothing Is Wrong," he quickly stated.

You were about to press him further, when Frisk rapidly tapped your arm. They pinched their thumb and pointer fingers together and drew them across their face like imaginary whiskers. "Cat..." They then made a fist with their right hand and held up one finger on their left hand, before moving the fist to conceal their left hand. "To deceive..."

Deceitful Cat?

You tilted your head and gave them an amused smile. It was annoying to constantly spell out the names of things so you didn't blame them for coming up with a nickname for her. That seemed like a slightly odd one though, even for Frisk.

"Maybe you should think up another nickname for her, okay, kiddo?" you chuckled.

(Edit: I platonically love you! @scrambledmeggys )

[queer-overwatch]

hihi! loveee this blog god bless both of you i'm tweaking waiting for venture to come out 😭😭 might be a bit odd but if it's something either of you feel comfortable writing about, could i request them with an audhd masc reader who's really struggling with executive dysfunction? like they're struggling to do anything and feeling really down and ashamed about it (⁠me rn T~T) thanks!!

Venture w/ Audhd!Reader!

It's not odd at all! We both get the same way fjsofndk, have some hurt/comfort for ya <3 -Frisk & Xorn

══════ஜ▲ஜ══════

(Good lord we need more Venture gifs-)

══════ஜ▲ஜ══════

This was stupid, you were stupid, having a job was stupid- everything was stupid!

It's so easy, all you have to do is just get up, grab a pencil, and write a few words! It's quite literally the easiest assignment you've ever gotten from the Wayfinders! Ever!

Yet for some stupid, unknown reason you just- couldn't. No matter how much you yelled at yourself or cried, feeling useless, you couldn't get up. It was pathetic, sad, pitiful, everything you didn't want to be and yet, were.

You were sure your partner would be able to do this, anyone would be able to do this, so why couldn't you!? Groaning, you desperately wish to push yourself up and out of bed, yet make no movement to do so.

Stuck in your own head, you don't notice Venture knocking on your door, or stepping into your room after a few minutes of waiting. You only acknowledge them after they scare the shit out of you by grabbing your shoulder.

"What the fuck-!" You're finally able to move, even if it wasn't thanks to the best circumstances-

"Sorry! Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you!" They laugh slightly, cheeks a bit darker than usual as they bend their knees slightly so they're eye level with you as you sit up in bed.

They slowly look you over, drawing their own conclusions as to how you're feeling and gently pushing you so you're on one side of the bed before grabbing something from the desk on the other side of your room and snuggling up next to you.

"So I'm gonna take just a wild, crazy guess here and say you haven't done any work today?" They hold out what they'd grabbed, apparently it was your assignment from the Wayfinders. Just seeing the paper sucks any energy you had left out of you as you groan.

They laugh pitifully at your misery, patting you on the back and setting the paper down on your lap. "I'll be honest, I haven't gotten a whole lot done today either. I'm a bit of a slacker myself from time to time!"

Venture throws an arm around your shoulders pulling you into their side softly as they nuzzle your cheek teasingly. "Buuut I've still gotten more done than you, so I'm on a winning streak technically! Though I guess I could be the best partner ever, which I already am, and help you out a bit."

Of course they'd turn it into a challenge, if there was one thing Venture adored, it was winning something. You could imagine their smug look already, as adorable as it was, you simply couldn't hand it to them that easily. Plus..the paper was already there, maybe you could just do a little, just so you would have it out of the way faster.

As you take the assignment from Ventures lap, you slowly start to write a few words, finally getting something done as Venture talks your ear off about how awesome they were.

About halfway through, it hits you that this was their attempt at helping, at getting you motivated. It was always easier to do things when they were around, and they knew it.

They still ended up with a stupid, adorable, smug smile on their face at the end of the day.

Hiii here are some headcannons to add on <3 -Xor

First of all it just sucks , wanting to do things but not being able to will yourself to do them is actually just awful.

Venture makes it a point just to generally check in on you and make sure you're feeling okay overall.

They then immediately delve into "how can I help you?" Asking you what you want or need to do but just can't seem to.

If it's something personal then they'll leave it to you unless you want their help. However if it's not then they ask you how you would perform the task and try to help you out with it.

The whole time they're really understanding and encourage you, not to do things but so you don't feel horrible about not doing them.

They try to find ways to interweave things you really enjoy doing along with said tasks , trying to help the tasks seem bearable in a way.

And if you simply can't, then it's a good time to relax and work out a half plan, for anything that needs to be done and try to do it layer.

They aren't going to push you to do anything just gentle yet loud encouragement and a couple nudges in the right direction.

[univvrse]

the coven (chapter 12)

minors dni

reader x bakugou x shinsou x kaminari x kirishima

cw: sub reader, smut, penetrative sex, threesome kinda idk

Coven- a formation of at least three or more vampires

He told you they were dangerous- why didn't you believe him?

previous parts can be found on my masterlist

on my ao3 if you'd prefer

1.3k words

Back in Hitoshi's room, Eijiro had been back for a while- you were sandwiched between him and Hitoshi on the purple haired man’s black sheets. Thanks to the two of theirs’ incredibly low body heat you were a perfect cool temperature. You were wearing only an oversized t-shirt that Hitoshi had procured for you from his floor. Hitoshi was wearing some gym shorts that- you guessed it- he had also found somewhere on his floor. Eijiro had come back from Denki’s room with no shirt- presumably having taken it off during whatever they had been doing over there- and now he was only in the jeans he had been wearing earlier. Hitoshi spoke up, “so are you going to tell her or should I.” “Dude don’t it literally doesn’t matter,” he replied- giving Hitoshi a warning glance. “Wait, tell me what?” “Eijiro is so fucking hard right now,” Hitoshi spoke up before Eijiro could stop him. “Oh my god, it literally doesn’t matter.” “It clearly does if you keep thinking about it Eijiro.” “Y/N don’t worry about it- it’ll go away.”

Your eyes narrowed- “do you want me to- um- help you out with that Eijiro,” you asked- you sat up. “I mean- yeah I do- but I don’t want to push you too far today.” “You’re not pushing me too far at all- I’d love to help you out actually,” you looked into his eyes- pouting slightly and silently begging for him to fuck you again. He didn’t say anything for a moment and the room was perfectly silent other than your breathing. “So, are you going to let her or what?” Hitoshi asked. “Fuck- yeah, who am I kidding? Of course, I am.”

You smiled about that- you took a short breath in to speak but his arms almost instantly wrapped around you. Pulling you into his lap. You straddled him- almost immediately pressing kisses onto his lips. He had completely winded you in a single moment and you felt as if there was no more oxygen in the entire world. He wasted no time in pulling his jeans down. He lifted his hips for a moment to help him take them off. You squeaked slightly at the sudden movement- before you could complain he had already kicked them off his feet and left them somewhere around the footboard of Hitoshi’s bed. This action left him in just his boxers, his erection pressing upwards against your bare cunt.

Before your eyes could comprehend what was happening Hitoshi was behind you, his chest pressing against your back- kissing your neck softly. His cold presence behind you pushed you into Eijiro, almost forcing you to grind your hips against him. The red-head groaned at the action his hands quickly finding purchase at your hips- digging his nails into them sharply. With a soft hand, you reached downwards- finding the waistband of his boxers- pulling them down just low enough to reveal his cock. It was impressively hard, probably harder than you had seen it prior.

A sigh left your throat- quickly turning to a gasp as you felt Hitoshi reach between your legs; he frisked around there for a split second until he found what he was looking for- your clit. He immediately started abusing the nub- you begin to fold in on yourself, having just had an orgasm like, 30 minutes prior. Another set of hands were quickly on your cunt as Eijiro began to line up his cock with your twitching pussy. The feeling of being wanted so intensely by these two men was intoxicating- addicting almost.

It was like the most excruciatingly brilliant mix of heaven and hell. You felt dirty- about to have sex with two men at once. Scratch that- two fucking vampires at once. You let your soul be damned as you felt Eijiro began to slip his dick into you with ease- your hole still wet with Hitoshi’s cum. You let out small moans and whimpers at the feeling- Hitoshi continued to play with your clit as Eijiro finally eased you down so you were fully seated on him, and he was fully inside you. Eijiro allowed you a moment to get used to the feeling, grabbing you by the back off your neck- pulling you away from Hitoshi’s advances and kissing you fully and passionately on the lips.

It became a sort of game for them for a few minutes- Eijiro pulling you somehow closer and Hitoshi would have to chase after you- they exchanged warning glances at each other, each wanting to keep you for themselves. This continued until you had Eijiro completely pinned up against the headboard, there wasn’t a millimetre of space between the two of you.

Just as you began to get used to the feeling of one of them on either side of you- Eijiro began to finally move inside of you. He was much faster this time than he was previously- he had clearly been desperate for release for a long time, you tried to grind your hips down against him, trying yet failing miserably. The man was clearly desperate for you, whimpers and moans fell from his lips. You threw your head back, resting it on Hitoshi’s shoulder, granting him full access to your neck. He sucked and bit at your neck like a man starved. You arched your back- practically pushing your tits into Eijiro’s face. Eijiro took advantage of the position- quickly releasing his lips from yours and wrapping them around one of your nipples- sucking salaciously on the nub. The two men drew ungodly sounds from your lips, sounds you didn’t know it was possible for people to make. They were going to be the death of you.

The red-head’s pace never faltered- making incredible use of his inhuman gifts to bounce you on his lap. Hitoshi was just as unrelenting, and you were almost certain that you would have no skin left on your neck in the morning with the way he was sucking and nipping at it. Hitoshi’s fingers that had been pressed against your clit had only sped up. The two of theirs’s stamina was insane. They were both absolutely ravenous for the sounds that spilled from your throat- they were both hungry as wolves. Sandwiched between them like this you felt like their prey.

You felt as if they had hunted far and wide for you- just to have the opportunity to have you like this- perfectly at their will. The room was deafeningly loud, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing clearly against the four walls of Hitoshi’s bedroom. You weren’t even touching Hitoshi at all and yet he was still louder than you had ever thought anyone would be during sex before you had it. Almost inexplicably, Eijiro’s pace hastened even more, his mouth leaving your tit and instead leaning behind you, brazenly pulling Hitoshi’s lips away from you for a moment to press fierce, passionate kisses against the purple haired man’s lips.

“Fuck, ‘m gonna cum, need you to cum first- can you do that for me?” he asked you. You nodded quickly; your eyes squeezed shut from the practically blinding pleasure. The feeling of your orgasm built quickly. An intense pleasure that you initially defended yourself from for a few minutes. Both of the vampires quickened their pace, the white-hot pleasure forced you to surrender, and you felt heaven break over you. You convulsed in their grasp, your legs tensing around Eijiro- holding him inside of you. It was so intense you slipped into some sort of haze; the feeling of Eijiro’s cum spilling inside of you, stuffing you full, was mostly lost to you.

You didn’t register fully what was happening until you were pulled away from the two of them and under Hitoshi’s blankets. One of them peppered light kisses against your cheeks. You hadn’t realised one of them had left until you felt a slightly damp towel slip between your legs. The feeling of sleep had mostly overtaken you- the last thing you felt before falling into the world of sleep was the two of theirs’s cold hands wrapping around you. There, you felt safe.