A/N: No ship pic today bc I couldn't find one that isn't smutted so instead, have this pic of Lust.Neo, the version I'm using for this oneshot.(I made Lust.Neo lol)
The sun gazed low over the horizon today, it was late afternoon. The air was still, calm even, the only mild disruption the tweets and chirps of the delicate fantails swooping across the landscape, brushing the grass with their smooth hazel wings just letting the soft spring wind carry them on their journey along with the sounds of new life. Bleating lambs and mooing calves the calves being on the other side of the property due to Cross' insatiable fear of the great lumbering livestock.
Not that Lust happened to really care. It was his job to feed the damn things. And feed the sheep too, dispose of carcasses, muck out the stables, exercise the horses, take care of bills and medical appointments, help butcher animals, hunt, get wood.
He got all the hard work that nobody else would ever do since joining the bad guys.
Sure, he enjoyed it. He didn't mind the hard yarn or the muddy, bloody mess that accumulated on oneself at the end of the day - it was all in a days work - being all part of the job.
Albeit the others would often disdain him, saying he was too small to do most travail required of the team. And in all honesty, they were probably correct.
Lust stood at an utter 15.1 hands high and trust him when he said he sure damn wished he was taller. Everyone else was 16 hands or above, Night was 16 and a half at least, but him? Tiny.
Another half hand shorter (2cm) and he'd technically be a miniature.
What made his height even more troublesome was trying to ride Killers 19 hand Clydesdale. That horse was huge and it was difficult to remain saddled as it plundered down the dirt track through the forest. She was only trotting but holy Jesus posting this thing was hard.
Lust began to conjecture just how Killer could properly work her when she was so big.
He was fairly sure her name was Missy. The name suited because she was a stroppy bitch. The only time she'd ever behave was when under saddle apart from that she was terrible, much unlike Killer who was always happy and sweet. All the fucking time.
Back to Missy, all the equines the bad guys did own were similar in one way or another to them. Killer had Missy, a black and white Clydesdale.
Cross had Steve, a grey Connemara.
Horror had Bounty, a strawberry roan Quarter Horse.
Dust had Velvet, a bay Standardbred.
Nightmare had Eclipse, a black Arabian
And finally, he had a blue roan brindle he dubbed Allegro, his Tennessee Walking Horse.
Well, enough on the horses he needed to go home. The sun was sinking below the hills, casting shadows on the trees as the place around the pair fell silent. They'd lost a few members over the years and only lord knows where they wandered off to. Almost as soon as they broke the surface, ones longing for adventure ran off, leaving the more dedicated skeletons to bare their weight.
They only 3 had left, though it felt like more. Error married Ink and left the team, Fell lived in town with Classic and Swapfell.... um. Lust didn't know where he went.
According to rumour, he was travelling the world. Apparently, he was in the US.
No one had heard from the ones that did leave apart from when they got together for drinks.
Nightmare had been more than eager to take Lust on when he first signed up, due to the stress of losing all his best men he decided to give a mentally fucked up skeleton a shot in the second chance basket of life. And he sunk that shot just like the best basketball player out there.
He was still way too short but just wondered if his childhood growth had been delayed for a few years when he lay in bed staring at the roof for the lost count amount of times at 3 am after having a few more or less Speights than required to make him sleep.
"As if," He said to himself, staring blankly ahead through Missy's ears at the darkening trail ahead. "I'm 26 like I'm going to grow anytime soon"
The leather on the western style saddle began to irritate his pelvis as he posted to the best of his ability to the 1,2,1,2 pattern of her hoofbeats. Each time he met the saddle again, he would wince. Lust swore his sacrum was going numb because of this shit.
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Sanscest oneshots (TEMP DISCONTINUED)
FanfictionFavourite paragraph so far: He would only survive if he kept the fire going and he could hear thunder in the distance. The two factors that guaranteed him his health. The only two people he could trust to be around and not get sick from to the point...
