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quichein-me-softly · 1 month ago

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reminisce w/ sans and papyrus

(Plot: Each night, Sans tucks Papyrus into bed and tells him a bedtime story. But tonight, Papyrus asks for something different—a story about you, Sans’ late lover and the group’s best friend, who passed away from old age. As Sans recounts heartfelt memories, the brothers reflect on the love and friendship they shared with you, cherishing those moments that still linger. — TW: death from old age)

(author's note: still technically a sans x reader buckle up, it's the bittersweet kind of angst)

Papyrus’ bedroom was as vibrant and full of energy as he was, bright red curtains framing the window and his collection of action figures proudly displayed on shelves. His bedspread, a bold, heroic blue with star patterns, was tucked neatly, and his beloved plushies were arranged at the foot of the bed. Despite the playful atmosphere of the room, tonight felt different—quieter.

Sans stood beside Papyrus’ bed, his hands resting deep in his hoodie pockets, watching as his brother settled in for the night. The routine was familiar: Papyrus would climb under the covers, adjusting his pillow just so, and Sans would sit at the edge of the bed, ready to offer a bedtime story. But tonight, as Papyrus tucked himself in, something lingered in the air between them, a heaviness neither of them could ignore.

Papyrus looked up at Sans, his usually bright eyes a little softer, more contemplative. "SANS..." he began, his voice gentler than usual, a stark contrast to his typical booming enthusiasm. "DO YOU THINK YOU COULD TELL ME A STORY? ABOUT... HER."

Sans froze for a moment, the question hanging in the air. Papyrus reached up, clutching his blanket just a little tighter, as if it could bring comfort. "I MISS MY BEST FRIEND."

The words hit Sans harder than he expected. He glanced down, the edges of his usual grin softening as he exhaled quietly. The small lamp on Papyrus' nightstand cast a warm, dim glow across the room, making it feel almost like a bubble, a space where nothing from the outside world could touch them.

"yeah, bro," Sans said, his voice low but steady, "i miss her too."

Papyrus shifted in the bed, the quiet between them lingering. He always trusted Sans to know what to say, to find the right words even when things felt uncertain. But tonight, it seemed even Sans was grasping for the right way to start. Still, he sat down at the edge of the bed like always.

The springs giving a soft creak under his weight. He leaned back, resting his elbow on his knee, and glanced over at Papyrus. The soft glow of the lamp highlighted the quiet vulnerability in Papyrus' expression. Sans felt a twinge in his chest, but he kept his tone light, like always.

"what kind of story ya want?" he asked, his voice soft, carrying the familiar warmth he used when he was trying to keep things easy, even when they weren't.

Papyrus adjusted his pillow, pulling the blanket up snug around his chest. He stared at the ceiling for a moment, lost in thought, before turning his gaze back to Sans. His voice was quieter than usual, full of that same innocent sincerity he always carried, but tinged with a longing that Sans knew all too well.

"SOMETHING... HAPPY," he said after a moment, his voice carrying a note of hope. "SOMETHING THAT MAKES ME FEEL LIKE SHE’S STILL HERE... EVEN IF JUST FOR A MOMENT."

Sans felt his chest tighten at that, but he didn’t let it show. He was good at that—keeping things locked away. He gave a slow nod, keeping his gaze steady on Papyrus. "yeah... i can do that." His voice was soft, but there was a promise in it. "got plenty of those."

Papyrus smiled, a small but genuine one, as he settled further into the bed. "GOOD. SHE ALWAYS MADE ME LAUGH, SANS. JUST LIKE YOU DO." His eyes closed, his expression peaceful but expectant, waiting for his brother to begin.

Sans looked at him for a long moment, his grin fading slightly as he let the silence linger, gathering his thoughts. He missed you too—more than he let on. But tonight wasn’t about that. Tonight was about remembering you the way you'd want them to: with smiles and laughter.

"alright," he finally said. "i think i got just the one..."

Sans closed his eyes too, letting the memory take shape, the edges of it coming into focus like a picture being pulled from a fog.

“there was this one time,” Sans began, his voice settling into that comfortable rhythm he always used when telling stories, “when she decided she wanted to learn how to bake. she had seen one of those cooking shows—y’know, the ones that make it look way easier than it actually is.”

Papyrus made a quiet sound of recognition, as if he already knew where the story was going. "I REMEMBER THAT!" he murmured softly.

Sans chuckled, a fondness in his tone. “yeah, you were there for part of it, bro. she started out all confident, had a cookbook open and everything. flour everywhere, counters a mess... she insisted it was ‘part of the process,’ even when there were more ingredients on the floor than in the bowl.”

The memory unfolded before him, clear and vivid.

The kitchen had been filled with the smell of butter and sugar. You stood in the middle of the kitchen, the cookbook propped open on the counter, your eyes scanning the recipe like you were deciphering an ancient code. You had this determined look on your face, lips pressed into a firm line as you measured flour and sugar, both already scattered like snow across the counters.

The thought of it made him smile even now.

"this is gonna be amazing," you had declared, giving Sans a quick glance as if you needed to convince yourself as much as him. Sans just leaned against the doorframe, hands in his pockets, watching with that easy smile of his. "sure, looks like you got it all under control." You had nodded, though the kitchen looked like it had been hit by a small hurricane of baking supplies. Measuring cups clattered, and the mixer whirred as you added ingredients with more enthusiasm than precision. There was a streak of flour on your cheek, but you didn’t notice.

“she had flour in places i didn’t even know flour could get,” Sans added, his voice full of amusement.

Papyrus chuckled lightly from under the covers, his eyes still closed. "SHE NEVER WAS VERY GOOD AT COOKING, WAS SHE?"

Sans grinned faintly, shaking his head. "nah, not at all. but she had heart, that’s for sure. kept sayin’ she’d get it right if we gave her some time."

Time. The bitter irony clung to him like a relentless shadow.

“At one point, she handed me this... uh, spoon—i think?" Sans paused, the details blurred as a sense of dread settled deep in his bones. He was forgetting.

He clenched his fists tight, as if somehow that could hold the memories in place, hold you in place. It was all he had left of you—fragile, fleeting, and fading. Still, he continued.

"told me to stir the batter while she cracked the eggs. problem was, she missed the bowl—dropped one right on the counter.”

You handed Sans a wooden spoon and gestured toward the bowl with a flourish. "Okay, stir this while I get the eggs," you said confidently. He took the spoon, giving the batter a half-hearted stir while watching you carefully crack an egg. Well, almost carefully. The egg slipped from your fingers and cracked open on the counter, the yolk oozing across the surface. “you, uh, missed the bowl,” Sans commented with a grin. You had just shrugged, wiping your hands on your already flour-coated apron. "That’s fine. It's part of the process, right?" you said, a smile creeping over your features. Sans didn’t say anything, just watched as you cracked another egg—this time managing to get it in the bowl. You were nothing if not persistent, and he admired that.

“the kitchen was basically a war zone by the time she was done," Sans said, the memory clear in his mind. "but she didn’t care. she just laughed about it."

Papyrus opened his eyes slightly, smiling at the thought. "AND SHE STILL INSISTED THAT IT WOULD TURN OUT GREAT. SHE ALWAYS DID THAT."

The memory played on like a movie in Sans' mind. He could still see you, standing in front of the stove with this fierce determination, your hair slightly messy from concentrating so hard. You looked so beautiful.

Eventually, after much trial and error, the cookies were finally in the oven. You stood in front of the stove, hands on your hips, a look of proud accomplishment on your face, even though the counters were still a disaster and the mixing bowl looked like it had seen better days. "These are going to be amazing," you declared confidently, look like you hadn't a care in the world. Sans had just leaned back, arms crossed, watching her with that same lazy grin. "we’ll see."

“she finally pulled out the tray of cookies, right?” Sans continued, his grin widening a little. “they were... well, let’s just say they weren’t the most edible things in the world. hard as rocks. you probably could’ve used ‘em to build a house.”

Papyrus giggled softly. "I REMEMBER BITING INTO ONE! I THOUGHT I HAD CRACKED A TOOTH!"

When the timer finally dinged, you pulled the tray from the oven with an excited grin. "Behold!" you said, holding it up for Sans and Papyrus to see. Sans had squinted at the cookies. They were not exactly what you’d hoped for. The cookies were solid lumps, misshapen and blackened at the edges, but you still beamed like you’d created a masterpiece. "well," Sans had said, "they sure look... unique." Papyrus, full of his usual optimism, had grabbed one immediately, not one to be deterred by appearances. He took a big bite, his enthusiasm quickly faltering as he chewed—his face scrunching up in a way that even he couldn’t hide.

"SHE NEVER STOPPED SMILING, EVEN AFTER WE TRIED THEM," Papyrus said, giggling softly at the memory.

Sans laughed quietly, the sound more genuine now. “yeah, she just laughed and said they’d make great paperweights.’"

If Sans concentrated, he could hear you—laughing along with the both of them as if the whole thing had been an adventure instead of a culinary disaster. You never let it bother you, the mistakes, the mess. You just rolled with it, making light of everything as you went. That was how you were. Even when things didn’t go the way you planned, you made it fun.

“even though the cookies were rock solid, it didn’t matter,” Sans said softly, his grin softening as the memory settled in. "she had this way of making everythin’ feel easier. like it didn’t matter if you messed up ‘cause it was still fun."

Papyrus shifted under the covers, a quiet smile on his face. "I MISS HER, SANS... SHE REALLY WAS THE BEST."

Sans nodded, his own voice low, filled with warmth and a little sadness. "yeah, bro. she really was."

As Sans sat there, basking in the silence, his mind lingered on more than just the humor of the baking disaster. Beneath the surface of his storytelling, there was a deeper ache he didn’t show. That smile you always wore, the way you found joy in the smallest things—it stuck with him. It haunted him in moments like this, when the night was quiet, and Papyrus was listening intently, hanging on his every word.

Sans had always admired that about you, even though he’d never said it out loud. How you made even the most mundane moments feel meaningful, like the universe wasn’t so heavy after all. It wasn’t just the baking. It was the stargazing, the late-night talks, the way you understood him without asking too many questions. You just got him, in a way most people didn’t. And now, with you gone, he found himself wondering if anyone else would ever understand him like that again.

The memory of your last moments was sharper, harder to shake.

It was a quiet afternoon, the kind where the sun hung low in the sky, casting warm, golden light through the windows of your small home. Sans sat beside your bed, hands stuffed in his hoodie pockets, shoulders hunched a little more than usual. He'd been there for hours, barely moving, just watching you. He didn’t say much. Didn’t need to. The usual banter, the jokes he was known for, all felt… insignificant. They couldn't reach you now, not where you were heading.

You had grown weak—more delicate, but never losing that spark in your eyes. You kept that warmth, that sense of humor that made the world feel okay, right until the end.

But even that couldn’t stop the inevitable. You were human, after all, and humans didn’t live as long as monsters.

Sans knew that.

You were lying beneath the covers, your breaths coming slower than they had just days before. Your body had grown frail over the years, a stark contrast to the vibrant, lively person he’d known for so long. Yet, despite everything, your eyes still had that twinkle—soft but bright, as if you were still in on a joke no one else knew. You smiled at him, even now, with so little strength left in your body. You were always like that. Unshakable. “hey,” Sans muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. He tried to smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. "how ya doin’?"

He could recall the way you’d held his hand, squeezing it weakly as your breath grew shallow, your eyes still filled with that same quiet strength you always had. And Sans just sat there, trying to keep it together, trying to make one last joke to ease the tension.

You gave a quiet chuckle, though it was weaker than the laughs he remembered. “I’ve had better days,” you replied softly, squeezing his hand as best you could. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to keep him anchored in the moment. He chuckled too, though it was more of a breath than anything. “heh… yeah, i bet. guess i’m not exactly helpin’ either. just sittin’ here… not even cracking a good one-liner. shame on me, huh?” You smiled again, that soft, knowing smile that never failed to pull him back from the edge. Even now, when you were slipping away, you were still trying to make him feel better. That’s how you’d always been. Always more worried about others than yourself. “I think… you’ve earned a break from the jokes,” you whispered, your eyes half-lidded but still focused on him. "Besides… I’ve heard all your best ones by now."

But the words stuck in his throat.

Sans gave a small shrug, even as his throat tightened. "yeah, guess that’s fair." He didn’t know what else to say. He’d always been good with words, always knew how to spin a situation into something lighter. But now? Now there was nothing to say. Your breath hitched, and Sans’s grip on your hand tightened instinctively. He didn’t want to admit what was happening, didn’t want to face the reality of the situation. You’d been a part of his life for so long—made it feel less lonely, less pointless. He wasn’t ready to let go, not yet. “you don’t gotta… do this, y’know?” Sans murmured, his voice barely audible. "you could just… hang on a little longer. for me." Your eyes fluttered closed for a moment before slowly reopening, your gaze softening even more. “Sans… it’s okay. I’m tired,” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath now. "But I’m glad you’re here." He looked down at his hand gripping yours, feeling the fragility of your bones beneath his fingers. The world around him felt like it was closing in, shrinking until it was just the two of you in that small, sunlit room. You looked beautiful, even then. He could hear the ticking of the clock on the wall, each second reminding him that time was running out. You took a slow, shuddering breath, and for a moment, Sans thought about all the times you’d sat with him in silence, watching the stars, or those late nights when you’d laugh at his stupid puns, or that one time you tried baking with him and Papyrus, filling the kitchen with the smell of burnt cookies. It all came flooding back, memories layered on top of each other, but none of them seemed enough to stop what was happening now.

He felt so helpless, watching you slip away, knowing there was nothing he could do. Nothing but sit by your side, holding on, even when you were gone. When the last breath left your lips, a silence had settled over him like a heavy blanket. He felt hollow, like part of him had vanished with you. For the first time in a long time, he didn’t want to move, didn’t want to keep going.

Your grip on his hand loosened, and he felt the change immediately. “Thank you, Sans,” you whispered, your voice so faint it was almost lost to the air. And just like that, you were gone. He could’ve dusted away right there. The room felt too quiet, too still. The sun still streamed in through the windows, casting that warm light across your face, but you weren’t there to see it. Sans sat there, staring at your hand for what felt like an eternity, his heart pounding in his chest, but his body numb. He wanted to move, to do something—anything—but he couldn’t. All he could do was sit there, trying to process the fact that you were gone. Just like that.

Papyrus had been there, of course. His brother, ever the optimist, had been the one to pull him through, motivating him to smile through the pain. Papyrus was the sole reason Sans was still here, constantly pushing him to become the best version of himself. For you.

Papyrus found him an hour later, still sitting in the same spot, eyes hollow and distant. His brother had gently touched his shoulder, encouraging him to stand, to keep moving, to keep living. But Sans had never really left that room, not fully. A part of him had stayed there with you.

Sans wasn’t the same since. And in the quiet of his own thoughts, he’d made a promise to himself: he wasn’t going to let anyone else in like that again. Not after losing you.

He shook the thought away before it could settle too deep. He couldn’t let it get to him, not now. Papyrus needed him, needed these stories to remember you by, and Sans wouldn’t let his own grief show. That was his thing, wasn’t it?

But inside, he missed you more than he could ever say out loud. More than he let anyone know—not even Papyrus. And that promise? It was still there, buried beneath his grin. He wouldn’t let himself fall in love again. Not after you. You were everything.

"goodnight, paps."

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hotpinkboots · 2 months ago

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🧸 here!

so I was wondering if we could have some MTT with an s/o who likes to draw? definitely not projecting myself onto this specific y/n…

Hehe

~~~~~

~Mettaton w/a Darling That Likes To Draw~

WOKE UP AND IMMEDIATELY WENT TO WRITE THIS MMM I LOVE RANDOM WRITING MOTIVATION

Warning(s): Invasion of privacy (MTT looking through Reader's sketchpad without permission), Mettaton being himself which is also a warning

~~~~~

You were half asleep, floating somewhere between being half awake and being half asleep. You flinched as soon as you felt something land on your stomach, sitting up so abruptly that it made you dizzy, causing you to "see stars", the same affect that rubbing your eyes too hard would've had on you. You blinked hard. "What th-"

"DRAW ME."

What bastard woke you up at 6 am by throwing your sketchpad at you? Your eyes focused just enough for you to see the silhouette of Mettaton, standing directly over you with his hands on his hips. Oh, right. The bastard you were dating.

~He is the WORST LMAO he saw your sketchpad sitting there and slowly started to inch towards it. Bit by bit. Until he was close enough to grab it and flip through it like a madman

~His jaw dropped as soon as he saw your work. Whether they're full on art pieces or little unfinished sketches, he loves your art.

~Kicked his feet and twirled his hair while looking at it

~He also left a note on the corner of a blank page for you to find later:

Your art is almost as beautiful as you are!! Sorry for peeking (not) -Mtt

~Are you mortified? Maybe. Probably. A sketchpad is like an artist's diary. You'd read his old diaries for revenge if you weren't such a good person

~Mettaton had good intensions, though, he wouldn't purposely poke around had he have known that you didn't want him to. He's nosy, but he's not that nosy.

~Asks you to draw him. All the time. You're going to have a sketchpad full of drawings that are only of him at this point (who says you don't already have a sketchpad full of drawings that are only of him?)

~Anything that you draw for him, he frames as soon as he can.

~He kisses your signature for no particular reason (he's obsessed with you)

~~~~~

THIS WAS REALLY ADORABLE ASDFGHJK Thank you for the request, darling! :D

Request Guidelines!

~Love, HotPinkBoots

Likes < Reblogs! :D

#pink's fanfic #mtt #mettaton x reader #undertale #undertale x reader #mettaton ex #mettaton ex x reader #female reader #fem ranpo #robot #robots #robot fucker

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depthsofthevoidnest · 3 months ago

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So hey!

If you fancy a brand new Undertale fanfic, and you want all the boys, why don’t you come check out my brand new fic! 24 thousand words in on chapter three, an AU convergence story where the reader isn’t human but a spider monster.

Included AU’s

Undertale - Sans and Papyrus

Underswap - Blue and Stretch

Underfell - Red and Edge

Swapfell - Black and Wolf (Mutt)

Horrortale - Bear and Sparrow

(All AU’s belong to their original owner)

*Fem reader (She/Her/They) Unnamed

#undertale #alternate universe #swapfell #underswap #underfell #horrortale #AU convergence #fanfic #sans #papyrus #sans undertale #polyamory #ao3 #ao3 fanfic #reader insert #x reader #fem reader #monster reader #souls

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leochan11 · 2 years ago

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Noot will cuddle Y/N everyday, every night, every second of his life lol

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under-myown-tale · 7 months ago

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I found another one

For anyone who saw my last post about old Sans x Readers I used to write, that was a hot steamy piece of traaaaash

However, I found another little fic. There's only one chapter and I'm pretty sure I had a bigger idea for it but, alas, those plans are left to the cosmos. It's, like, 5/6 years old though, so...

If anyone's somewhat intrigued, I shall leave it here. There ain't much but I know I was proud of it then. (I haven't edited it but that would tarnish its raw form upon first creation)

It was places like this that could only truly be alive and bustling with people at such hours. Although music was playing in the background, it was drowned out by the many friend groups who had decided to hang out in the pleasantly welcoming establishment for a few drinks. The evening burned young and slow like the few candles that had been lit in their tinted glass cases to entice atmosphere. Her glassy eyes reflected the flames, bright orange hues hiding the vague tiredness. A half empty glass would occasionally be caressed by her fingers in an attempt to find solace in the poison. She peered away from her grim-tasting company to the rest of the pub. Many seats and spaces were still available but it was pretty early for that "bar buzz" to surface, which was a great surprise considering the upcoming holiday. Yet again, that was bound to be on account for the fact that last-minute shoppers were still roaming the sparkling streets. She couldn't complain, however. A calm pub was much more tasteful, in her opinion, as it gave her that chance to appreciate it more; sofas were covered in a plush, dark red leather, wooden beams, chairs, stools and even the tables and bar top were either make of oak or redwood with a beautiful vanish finish. Everything from the stone-slabbed and carpeted floors to the simple intricacies in the way the planked pieces of wood were diagonally positioned in the walls pleased her aesthetic. She wondered if anyone else took notice of the time and effort that went into constructing the very place they chose to socialise for the night.

There was much doubt in that.

Much motivation wasn't needed for her to turn back to her drink and take another sip, her tongue clicked. Heaven knows why her first chosen beverage for the night was a cheap wine the same colour as the couches. Perhaps she wanted to give off that fake sense of sophistication but to whom? She wouldn't go as far as to impress anyone she didn't know and she certainly didn't know anyone nearby. It was made quite clear in her mind that she wanted to visit a bar as far from her own home as possible. In moderation, of course. The happy-deprived woman chose not to bring attention to the reasons as to why.

"What's the matter? Got a drink ya' can't handle?" a deep voice asked, amusement clear in the low tone.

At first, she wasn't aware that the gentleman, who had situated himself beside her, was attempting to grasp her attention until a pale looking hand waved itself in front of hers. She blinked and turned over, blinking again to be sure she was seeing things right. It wasn't uncommon to see a monster: they'd been around for many years after the barrier trapping them underground had been broken. No. What surprised her was the fact that a sentient being was actually conversing with her in some way.

"I'll take that as a yes." A chuckle resounded and the creature spoke again, "you gonna' keep starin' at me, or...?"

The poor woman hadn't even realised that she was practically gaping at this newcomer. Bashful apologies bellowed from her lips and she hoped that she hadn't somehow offended the monster by staring. He seemed to shrug it off and presented her with a Cheshire cat grin, the face around it looking as though it had been built on the foundations of that very smile. It was an interesting sight seeing how one of the many selection of monsters that inhabited the world could be so human in appearance, or at least close. His pale complexion was due to the lack of skin, fur, muscle, or anything - anything but clean, white bone. She silently wondered how the composition of bones was holding its form but quickly discarded that thought when she recalled how magic was in fact a thing. It was easier to just swallow the simple explanations.

Two little white dots, sat where there would've been human eyes, that acted as pupils made some speculations of their own. The woman sat beside him was adorned in nothing considered "flashy" or anything anyone would see as an outfit for a night out - it was casual. This brought upon the assumption that this fair lady had taken a seat after passing by the place on the off-chance. However, that was besides the point; she was by her lonesome and looked in need of some good company. Luckily, he was just the guy for the job.

"Mr. Skeleton" focused his full attention back on the young woman, who had gone back to brushing her fingertip over the rim of her nasty drink. Her delicate touch almost made the glass chime, providing perhaps a little solidarity to it for the fact it had to hold such bitter wine. The other hand concealed her lips as her eyes shifted absentmindedly amongst the many bottles that decorated the bar. He tilted his cranium at a slight angle and his little pupils seemed to brighten up, along with his large grin.

"Hey, don't be nervous kiddo," he spoke in a comforting manner. "if it makes ya' feel better, I don't have a bone to pick with you. In fact, I found your reaction pretty humerus."

Her finger paused, teetering above the thin wall of glass, and so did her gaze. A pair of brows huddled together and she turned to look at the monster again. She could only stare at him for a few moments in silence, the cogs turning in her head almost audible to his non-existent ears. There was almost a struggle in her expression, as though she was hiding something. That could be seen when she finally revealed her mouth to him.

"Did you just make two skeleton related puns?" Confusion was evident but it wasn't enough to hide the amusement.

He faked hurt, a hand dramatically grabbing his chest as he turned his face away from her. "Damn, you can see right through me, can't ya'?"

A light chortle begrudgingly left her person. The jokes were terrible! but they tugged at her lips like elastic. Who was this guy? His voice was deep and smooth but he had a gravely laugh, a certain spark would flicker in his eyes with every spoken pun, and apparently he liked to drink... ketchup, as seen by the red bottle secured with his phalanges. She had never met anyone who was this quick with their comebacks whilst also being so relaxed and laid back before. Even his attire was followed by a faint whisper of "chilled out": white shirt beneath an ocean blue hoodie, black basketball shorts, and a pair of pink, fluffy slippers that she thought best not to question. Pushing aside the obscurity of his outfit, she found comfort in the light conversation. It had been some time since she found herself enjoying a male's company, or anyone's company, in fact. Such time without an exchange in dialogue was nearly enough to convince her she no longer had a voice.

"How 'bout I get you a drink? You don't seem to be havin' much fun with that one," the pale being audibly mused.

Eyelids, tinted orange by the overcasting bulb, blinked rapidly and cocked to an angle along with the head they belonged to. Many questions disintegrated as quickly as they assembled, recoiling into nothingness and being immediately forgotten. If it hadn't already, the early night was certainly becoming interesting for the unsuspecting woman.

#undertale #sans #sans undertale #sans x reader #sans x you #old fic i found in my garbage #maybe it should have stayed there #who knows #despite how old it is #i think it's cute #fem reader #x reader #female reader #x female reader #reader insert

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nepherium · 1 year ago

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there's literally only 2 ways i see reader in my head

#undertale #fanfic #laymewhereiamloved #art #x reader #reader insert #fem reader #ao3 fanfic

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imherenowlol · 7 months ago

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Fan-Art of These Diamond Waters By CayCanWrite

I know this probs ain’t it but I was inspired by when Mc first meets Sans/Blue and when people say they are giant this is what I imagined , done at 12 am in hospital LOL

#undertale #fanart #go check them out #My art don’t steal #first post #undertale sans x reader #siren au #sans undertale #fem reader #x reader

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nevadavadaa · 2 months ago

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Check out my book on Ao3! Killer sans x self insert. Inspired by Poor Little Meow Meow by Mystique

I might be posting snippets and sneak peaks of future chapters on here, but the book is brand fucking new, only just finished the first chapter the other day

#ao3 #ao3 fanfic #ao3 writer #ao3 link #writers on tumblr #undertale #killer sans #self insert #x reader #reader insert #fem reader #underfell

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mritcg · 2 years ago

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"Sun" in misfortune

Chapter 3

Mettaton

Warning!

there may be errors, use of google translate, female reader, bodily injury

Another pose, a wave of arms, graceful movements - the dance continues. For several months of being here, your friend almost dragged you to special training and taught you to dance, as he "saw a real talent in you." For the first couple of weeks, you sincerely hated both these activities and this robot, BUT, to your great surprise, and to the incredible happiness of our star, you were still able to learn impossible-complex movements. After that, he dragged you to each of his concerts, hoping to develop your skills even more. But ... Now it was more difficult to perform than before. The fact is that there was some kind of breakdown in the core, because of which it was now getting hotter and more stuffy here. Alphys said that she would fix everything soon, but for about 3 hours you did not feel any significant changes in the temperature for the better. Apparently the problem was not so small. Damn technique... It was getting harder and harder to dance. Unfortunately, Mettaton was now too carried away by the audience, telling them something to notice your condition. Suddenly, the body ceases to obey completely and, stumbling over your own foot, you fall deafly to the floor. The robot turns around, frightened and uncomprehending, while you unsuccessfully try to get up. Only damn weakness does not allow. You feel sick, you wipe your forehead for some reason too cold sweat.

- "Darling?"

You feel like metal arms wrap around you and gently lift you up, forcing you to stand up. Sigh.

- "I'm sorry. I just feel bad... I th-"

You are interrupted by the loud and confident voice of Mettaton that there will be a break now. You already wanted to say something about the fact that let him continue the Show, how they abruptly pick you up, smile starry at the cameras and quickly retire into the shadow of the wings.

...

An hour later...

You squeal softly because of the unexpected, painfully cold, jet of water in your opinion, and quietly pray to make it warmer. When you were forced to take off your clothes and put on some kind of special light mini-top, more like a bra, and the same shorts, you endured when you were wrapped in a wet, cold sheet, you endured, but when this very sheet was taken from you and put in a bath, and then suddenly began to pour not so warm water, you could no longer restrain yourself and began to try to get out of this damn bath.

- "Darling, you have to be patient. Even though I'm a killing machine, I also have excellent knowledge of medicine and, of course, first aid! And you, cutie, as I see it, heat stroke, so let me bring you into feelings."

- "Well, Mettaton..."

With annoyance, you stretched out, hoping to convince the robot.

- "Don't complain. You almost fainted on stage."

- "But..-"

- "No buts, honey."

- "But I'm..-"

- "Ti~ho."

- "You can't be persuaded."

You sigh.

...

15 minutes later...

Finally, the robot diverts the shower and turns off the water. You sigh, look your friend up and down, get up, and carefully climb out of the bathroom. Mettaton immediately wraps you in a large, terry towel.

- "Dry yourself here, and I'll prepare a place for you, dear."

Having said this, he almost immediately quickly, but gracefully, jumps out of the room. You only sigh kindly, smile kindly and, having silently thanked the super-star who is so caring and attentive to your neighbors, you begin to dry off, only five minutes later noticing the clothes that your friend left on purpose. Promising yourself that you will definitely thank the robot, put on your clothes and go out.

...

Half an hour later...

You are lying on a huge and insanely comfortable and soft bed. Stretch and relax completely. Look at the carved bedside table, noting to yourself that it fits perfectly into this luxurious room, sit down, put down the compress and reach for a mug. Seeing that there is almost no water left in it, you take a bottle and add cool soda, after which you sigh with satisfaction and fall back onto the bed, shifting the cold, folded several times rag back onto your forehead. Whatever you say, although the robot can be selfish, it does not forget about relatives and friends. Now he has gone to the performance, but you let him go with a calm soul, warmly thanking him. Now you just have to do nothing and rest, because your friend, after he finally brought you to your senses, announced that you definitely need bed rest, since he cannot admit that his star partner will have high chances of catching heatstroke again. You once again stretch, yawn, and turning over on your side, close your eyes and plunge into the world of Morpheus, silently thanking the robot again.

#undertale #undertale x reader #x reader #undertale au #mettaton #mettaton x reader #fem reader

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quichein-me-softly · 1 month ago

Text

echo flowers w/ sans

(author’s note: came up with this while in bed, might be a little rushed.)

The gentle murmur of Waterfall envelops the air, the slow drip of water echoing off moss-covered stones. You stand at the edge of the water, watching the subtle ripples, your thoughts quiet, lost in the calm. Nearby, the blue glow of the Echo Flowers shimmers, their petals rustling as they repeat faint, distant words carried through the caverns.

Sans is next to you, hands tucked into his hoodie pockets, his usual laid-back demeanor. You both stand in comfortable silence, but something in the air feels heavier than usual.

One of the flowers rustles softly. You glance at it curiously, as does Sans, but you can’t miss the slight tension in his shoulders.

“…always felt this way…” The voice is low, familiar, barely more than a whisper. Your eyes widen as the sound replays, both of you frozen in place.

Sans shifts awkwardly, glancing at the flower, but says nothing.

“can’t say it…” another flower echoes. The words weave into the quiet hum of the place, and you feel your heart begin to race. Sans’ eyes dart to the ground, his usual smirk faltering.

“too scared, y’know… to lose ‘em.”

Your breath catches. His voice—it’s unmistakably his, but there’s a rawness, a vulnerability you’ve never heard before. He avoids your gaze as the flowers pick up his thoughts, thoughts he probably never intended anyone to hear.

“she’s… everything.”

The confession hovers between you, lingering in the air. You glance at Sans, whose eyes remain fixed on the ground, a rare seriousness etched onto his face. The only sound you could hear was the beating of your heart, which quickens.

“heh, guess i’m a coward…”

The echo continues. The tension between you two builds, palpable now, as if you’re both waiting for something to happen, for someone to break the silence.

“i… love her.”

The words echo softly through the cavern, like a breeze gently combing through your hair. Sans’ face is still turned away, but you can see the faintest hint of color rising to his cheeks. His fingers twitch at his side, and for the first time in a long while, he looks… uncertain.

You swallow, the warmth of his words spreading through your chest, a mixture of surprise and something deeper—something that’s always been there. A soft smile tugs at your lips as you step closer, the gentle echo of his confession still hanging between you, fragile and true.

Sans finally glances at you, his expression a mix of apprehension and the tiniest bit of hope, as if waiting for your response.

You take a step closer, heart pounding, but the smile on your face is steady, warm. Sans glances up, his eyes wide, and for once, the usual smirk is gone, replaced by something softer. He’s nervous—you can see it in the way his hand fidgets in his hoodie pocket, unsure of what to do next.

“C’mere, lazybones,” you murmur, reaching out.

For a second, he freezes, like he’s processing your words, then something shifts in his expression. The tension drains from his shoulders, and the smirk you know so well creeps back, but this time it’s different—soft, genuine.

“heh, couldn’t stay away if i tried,” he jokes, stepping closer, the space between you shrinking until he’s within arm’s reach.

You pull him into a hug, and for a heartbeat, he stiffens, but then he melts into it, his hands wrapping around you in a rare, genuine embrace. His hoodie is soft against your cheek, and you can feel his gentle, steady breathing, like all the awkwardness and worry from before doesn’t matter anymore.

“y’know,” he mumbles, voice low, “thought i’d be smooth about all this.”

You laugh softly against him, and he chuckles too, the sound vibrating through your chest. You pull back just enough to look up at him, your hand resting against his chest.

The soft glow of the Echo Flowers bathes the cavern in a serene light, casting shifting shadows that dance around the two of you. His expression is gentle now, the usual smirk replaced by something genuine, something unspoken but clear in his eyes—a rare glimpse of the Sans beneath the jokes.

“guess we really made it, huh?” he murmurs, voice quieter than usual, but with a new kind of warmth that wraps around you as securely as his arms.

You smile, feeling his breath against your skin as you pull him just a little closer, resting your cheek against his shoulder. “Yeah,” you say softly, the word carrying all the weight of your shared history, the moments leading up to this.

For once, there are no wisecracks, no sarcastic remarks. Just the two of you standing there, the silence filled only by the rhythm of his heartbeat and the soft glow of the flowers.

“is it too late to say i think you’re iris-istible?” Sans chuckles, and his eyes gaze upon you with quiet admiration.

“Please stop talking.”

“heh, it was totally pennyworth it.”

In that moment, everything falls into place, as if this was how it was always meant to be.

#fanfiction #drabble #fluff #self insert #undertale #x reader #sans #sans fanfic #sans x reader #sans the skeleton #sans undertale #undertale fanfiction #imagine #blurb #fem reader #quichein

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