#left the implications of s/o with wings largely up to imagination heh

[nighttimelights-prompted]

Oh jeez, I didn't actually think I'd win. Okay, uh, if it would be okay, the big four skelebros finding out that their s/o (humanoid) actually had like, huge feathery wings, +they wore a big cloak to hide them? They can fly w/ them, and all that jazz

(i do love that about raffles - chance is a fickle thing, but wonderful at the same time! this is an interesting prompt - i haven’t spent too much time considering the implications of such a person in the undertale/au worlds, so i’ll interpret it as best i can as my mind tends to very naturally consider the implications thereof.)

(in any case, congrats on winning the raffle - i hope you like it!

UT Sans:

You shouldn’t underestimate someone like the classic Sans.

Truth be told, your wings were aching for how long you had been hiding them - nearly two days straight now, without a moment of being able to shake them out of your cloak. Thankfully it had it’s own magical properties that completely sealed in your wings, even for a passing gust of wind that may lift it - but the sensation was pins and needles as time dragged on, and if you could feel every feather in them every one of them would all be aching. But at last, Sans had fallen asleep in the field near on the blanket laid out for you and your friends’ picnic, and the others had disappeared in the forest, looking to play a game or gather wood - or both.

Your shoulders were on fire, your wings just longing to catch an updraft and stretch out, just for a minute, then you would be good to tuck them away again.

… Sans has been a light sleeper for a long time yet, though.

So when he felt the strange hitch in magic near him, even something so low and nearly unnoticeable, it woke him up. He would’ve ignored it… if not for the sudden soft fwump of your unfurled wings catching that first beat of free air.

His eyelights disappeared as he watched you spiral into the sky, effortless and joyfully light in your movements.

Granted, you nearly fell out of the sky when you looked back down and caught him staring at you, but still.

He has so many questions, and while he may wait until a more private time to ask them, you won’t get out of them for long. In the end, he’s intrigued, and once he guarantees all is well, he’ll realize his infatuation has grown only stronger. It won’t be long before you’ll find yourself figuring out how to take him out on flights in secret, both of you feeling the most free you’ve ever been while gliding under the clear night sky.

(the rest of the skelebros under the cut...

UT Papyrus:

He was really just trying to be hospitable.

You were always wearing that cloak. He caught you on longer days spent together rubbing at your shoulders, a distant expression of discomfort on your face - and then other times you fiddled absently and insistently with the clasp, as if you wanted nothing more to take it off and relax. He wanted that for you, too! The way your face lit up whenever you were at ease around him, that delightful laugh of yours that had his magic betraying his adoration across his cheekbones, the sharp way your mind worked out puzzles and riddles with him - he loved it most when you felt welcome and at peace, so surely he could relieve you of that cloak, at least in the safety of his home.

Granted, you always refused when he offered… but still.

That’s why he’s the Great Papyrus - he’d find a way to put you at ease, one way or another.

Yes, even if that way happened to be sneaking up on you while you were at the stove, with a grace and stealth completely unbefitting a seven-foot-tall skeleton. Before you could react, his fingers had easily slipped around you to your front, undid the mechanism of your clasp, and he slipped your cloak off with the graceful flair of a matador.

He promptly was sent flying into the living room by the nearly violent explosion of your wings into reality.

You screamed at the sudden sensation and almost sent spaghetti flying right after him - but horrified realization dawned over you just as quickly, and you took several steps forward to check on him - but were stopped by the instincts of countless years of hiding.

Thankfully Sans wasn’t home, because as Papyrus recovered and jumped back to his feet and anxiously hovered without approaching in turn,  it quickly devolved into a shouting match of mutual worry and love and horrified apologies.

Of course, Papyrus is in no way upset at this revelation - he understands your reasoning all too well, and while he desperately wants to shout to the entire Undernet about this wonderful new thing he found out about his s/o, he’ll keep your secret the safest it’s ever been with another soul.

… Also, I hope you like getting your feathers preened, because it won’t be long before Papyrus handily claims the sole right to massage your tense wings and gently check your feathers while you stay at his house.

UF Sans:

To be honest, your secret wasn’t much of one for long with Red. If you’re his s/o, you both lean heavily towards loving physical affection, at least in private - and you quickly figure out that with both of your trust issues, if you want to make this last, you’ll need to come clean about this. Perhaps you were friends for a long time first before caving into your attraction for him (and vice versa), perhaps not - but either way, you armed yourself with your resolve and feelings for him and managed to pull him into seclusion in his room one afternoon.

He started out with his usual dirty flirting, and tempted as you were to put it off just one more day, you were able to step back from him with the reassurance to him that… well, stars above you cared for him, and if he trusted you enough to let you so deeply into his life, then you were damn well going to do the same.

Your fingers flipped undone the mechanism of your clasp, and your cloak fell to the ground. Your eyes closed as relief and tension momentarily bled out of you and your wings unfolded into reality, still bent to avoid knocking anything open, but spread enough to span more than half the room.

When you finally felt brave enough to open your eyes, you caught Red staring at you, hands hovering half-outstretched, his eyelights burning a bright crimson that matched the softer glow of his cheekbones.

… A full, painfully silent minute later, you had to be the one to speak up first.

It all ended up coming out as if pouring from a spout that you had simply broken off, his ongoing silence and unreadable but not outright discouraging expression making it far easier to simply reveal more about your history and at why you were hiding - and why you were revealing this to him now, accidentally turning into you tripping over yourself as you confessed just how strongly you trusted him-

He finally cut you off, his face blazing crimson in a way that didn’t at all match his serious and conflicted and adoring expression. He’d simply pull you into a hug, his hands skating over your wings for a moment and drawing a shiver down your spine.

… After a bit of time that simply devolved into exploration, he’d ask a few simple questions about it, but just to round out his knowledge and satiate (for the moment) his building curiosity. He knows too well the need to hide everything that could mark you as vulnerably different, though, so he’s got your back in ways you’d never even dare to consider asking.

If anyone tries to blackmail you… well.

They’d turn up missing soon enough.

UF Papyrus:

He’d held a respect for your mysterious refusal to remove your cloak the entire time he’d known you. Even at your first meeting and his brash attitude, a part of him begrudgingly felt admirably towards your standards on your appearance in that facet.

Once you’re his s/o, however, he finds the curiosity simply eating him alive. He has standards, though - and damn, you respect his penchant for the black and red and spiky, so he can’t quite put himself up to demanding you take it off to satiate his curiosity - really, he’s never seen you without it, and even he has removed his signature red scarf around you on the heated occasion…

… Well. That doesn’t mean he won’t tail you once he figures out your scattered weekly sessions to disappear into the woods. You never go at the same time, and never by the exact same route, but always for hours on end, and always with a notable relief in the buildup of tension in your shoulders and back upon your next time seeing Edge.

He is nothing if not sharply observant - even as loud and harsh as he is, there aren’t many details that escape him. So even if this doesn’t have to do with your strange cloak and a few other odd pieces of behavior, he’ll at least figure out what you’re doing out there in the forest, for better or worse.

It actually takes him several weeks’ worth of attempts to track you the full way - you nearly caught him the first two times, and a few more following that you simply somehow managed to lose even him.

It was nighttime, the week he finally followed you for the full hour and a half you trekked into the woods, the week he finally caught you step into a clearing halfway around the mountain, far from any other sentient soul -

It was nighttime when he saw your cloak slip to the ground, when he saw your wings unfurl under the washed-out light of the moon and stars, when he saw you crouch down for just a moment as your wings shook out, fanned - and when he saw you take to the skies.

For nearly an hour he watched you, disappearing on occasion in low banks around the safe side of the mountain, only to return and circle high, high above, free and unrestrained in these moments you stole for yourself.

You nearly decked him in the ribs when he cleared his throat behind you after you landed.

The following moment, as you caught your fist before it made contact, as you watched his brow ridge draw upwards, as your wings fluffed up in horror and instinct, you thought you could truly feel your soul drop out of your own chest.

… He didn’t mince words, in the end, asking you several questions, which you found yourself nearly shell-shocked answering as plainly as he asked them. Your mind caught up quickly enough, and you knew that it was make or break either way - he’d either accept all this, or you’d be on the run… again.

After just ten more minutes, you found yourself once more silently staring at Edge. You had crossed your arms, and were holding your ground, despite your racing heart - you knew him well at this point, knew how many decisions and options and outcomes he was thinking through at breakneck pace as he returned your hard gaze.

When he reached out and took your hand, you forgot how to breathe.

When he slowly, so very slowly, lifted your hand to press your fingers to his mouth in a semblance of a kiss, you felt your chest constrict with the sudden flood of far too many feelings.

He smirked then, a devilish look to his flashing gaze, and said that he always knew you were more than most fools bargained for.

US Sans:

It might’ve been a bad idea to pass out on the couch with him after a long, late night of watching a certain old sci-fi series that he had been unable to come across Underground.

You were both the cuddly sort when it got down to it, and ever the gentleman as he was he had provided you with blankets and pillows and the most absurdly wonderful and gentle scalp massages you had ever experienced - so it was only natural that you’d end up so comfortable as to fall asleep, your head tucked just perfectly near his collarbone, his arms wrapped around you as you both nestled closer in your dream-ridden states.

You were both rudely awoken when your wings flared outwards - promptly shoving you both off the couch with the force of their reappearance.

As it turned out, Blue was apparently inclined to fiddle with whatever kaid within hands reach when he slept… including your specially-made clasp.

So there you were, straddling Blue with your hands planted on either side of his head, your wings flared in instinctual search for better balance. His eyesockets were wide, his bright blue starry eyelights trained on you with a bewildered fierceness you were certain neither of you were expecting at this hour, or this situation -

He blushed slowly cyan as you blushed a deep red of your own.

So very, very slowly, he lifted his hands. You had plenty of time to move out of the way, and you knew he intended it as such - but you remained willingly frozen as he relaxed just a tad more and his arms shifted just that little bit more…

You shuddered as his fingers slid down your feathers. You bit your lip and colored a little more at the look on his face as his eyelights searched your expression for any pain, any sign of discomfort - but he found none, and with a small, encouraging forward shift from you, he gently continued his exploration.

The words of adoration and praise, so soft, gentle, and private, had you burying your face into his shoulder as his deep chuckle ran further thrills through you.

At his almost surprisingly gentle questioning, you began to explain your background, and how you had to hide them, and the nature of your cloak - his attention never wavered from you, and as you talked he continued exploring your wings. You paused on occasion, redirecting or instructing him, and by the end of your explanation he felt like an expert with his soothing touches to your ever-tense wings.

He swore he would keep your secret - and with the twinkle in his eye, you had a definite feeling that you were facing a future where an incredibly cunning skeleton was going to find increasingly clever ways to help you spread your wings in private, with his careful eye and hand to provide every kind of support you could dare hope for.

US Papyrus:

He’s anything but inclined to push you on revealing whatever it is you're hiding, honestly. He has his own secrets, far too many to be healthy, but as you respect his he respects yours - it’s clear you have no ill intention through the bright way your soul shines, so he trusts you well enough.

… You realize, though, that even as his s/o… things won’t develop further unless you both place further trust in one another. And while you desperately want to know what it is that haunts his nightmares and hides behind the darker shadows of his gaze when something threatens the few things he cares about… well, you won’t push him without showing him that you are as open with him. But you also aren’t entirely willing to bare yourself without reciprocated trust.

So one day you offer him a deal as you’re about to head home.

You want to be closer - yet you know you’ve both got your reasons for what you hide. So… if he’s willing to share some of his past and what affects him so strongly, you’re willing to do the same.

His eyesockets go wide, and you give him a tired grin, expecting that bit of mild disbelief. Still, you give him a peck on the cheek, and tell him that you’ll see him tomorrow either way - no hard feelings.

He texts you a little after midnight, asking if you’re free to talk.

He appears at your door and knocks the moment you send off your positive response. You go through your traditional knock-knock routine, breaking just a bit of the anxious tension that flared in you all over again - and if you were reading him right, eased him a little too.

You took his hand when he ended up standing in your entryway, vaguely at a loss for how to continue. With ease you led him to your room, and sat yourself cross-legged on the mattress - a quirk of your brow and your lips drew a huff of a laugh out of him. He joined you then, his back meeting the wall as he settled in and tucked his hands back into his hoodie pocket.

You tilted your head slightly as you considered him, curious about what was running through his head…

Your mind made up, you lifted your hand to your cloak’s clasp. You hesitated for just a moment, softly warning him that what you’re about to show him is… unexpected, at best, but to not freak out or anything. He nods, just the once, an uncharacteristically serious set to his tired face.

You undo the clasp, and unfold your wings.

Well, truthfully, you only partially unfold them - while your room was tactically set up to allow you to walk around like this, the sheer span of your wings was certainly enough to be intimidating, and that was the last thing you wanted.

You waited, expecting an ongoing silence for at least a little bit as he reeled, or prepared to drill you for hiding something like this-

What you didn’t expect was his near-immediate “holy shit.”

Your own eyes widened nearly as much as his sockets. Within a moment, you were laughing so hard you were bent double.

Of all reactions, this may have been the best you never could have seen coming.

It took you another minute, particularly because Stretch had ended up blushing and laughing on his own at his slip - but you got your laughter under control and were able to give him a short explanation of what… what it was all about.

He listened intently, the faintest trace of a blush still on his face. At last, he asked a few questions - just a few, ones that you felt like he had been weighing the entire time you talked, but there was a promise of deeper exploration to come.

Afterwards, he opened his arms to you - no demand, just an offer, should you choose to accept it - and you do. Grateful and relieved and fighting a slight giddiness from the wave of emotions, you returned his embrace easily, the pair of you ending up mostly laying down as you laid half over him with your wings comfortably folded. Tentatively, one of his hands stroked your wing - eliciting a pleased sound from you, and a relieved one from him.

Another few minutes passed... but slowly, slowly, he began telling you of the source of his nightmares.

SF Sans:

You… weren’t actually officially Spike’s s/o yet when he found out.

You had known him for months by the night he invited you back into the workshop he kept at home. Against so very many odds, you had become incredibly close to one another - the fact that he was at last inviting you back here, somewhere you knew only a few other living souls had ever been allowed, said as much.

He walked you around the room with absolute ease, explaining a few of the different tools, machines, blueprints, even some of the strange books marked with ancient languages and even a few runes you recognized-

When he picked one up and flipped to an open page as he spoke about an ancient language that worked through words of power and intent, and one in particular that acted as a powerful sealing and illusionary spell, you froze. He showed you the page as he stepped to your side, his arm brushing against yours.

The rune on the dark, aged parchment perfectly matched the engraved pattern on your clasp.

He said nothing more, simply meeting your gaze with an unreadable expression as your focus slid to him.

Several moments passed, the eye of the storm meeting the slow balancing of the scales.

Finally, your breath returned to you, and you sighed, a small, rueful smile playing at your lips as you shook your head. Your gaze went to the cracked door, and back to him - with a simple wave of his hand and the spark of purple magic the door shut and locked. You nodded, then turned and faced him fully, taking just a step back.

Your hand hovered at your clasp for a moment as you considered him - he simply stood there observing you, and despite his measured expression, you knew him well enough to be able to catch that eager, curious spark to his eyelights - a puzzle nearly solved, a number of suspicions nearly tied together, and most importantly… a wary but present trust, even as he looked ready to snap a release on his own magic should the need arise.

With practiced ease, you undid your clasp.

You’d be lying if you said the shock that froze his confidently easy posture didn’t provide you some slight pleasure.

In just a few sentences as he stood frozen - this clearly not quite what he had been picturing - you explained your circumstances, your need for secrecy… and you left unsaid, but so very clearly presented, the measure of staggering trust you had just laid in him.

His gaze returned properly to your own at last. He then closed the small distance between you both, the tension only growing more thick -

His arm scooped around your waist and his other hand tipped your head back slightly as he pulled you close and kissed you for the first time.

To say that you responded well would be… an understatement.

Eventually, you ended up spending hours in there, talking more in depth about all manner of details on both your sides - the depths of his research was staggering, providing all new facets of consideration for a background you had never truly been able to explore for your own safety.

All the while, his hand held yours, your fingers intertwined.

SF Papyrus:

He had just taken an actual bullet for you.

Anti-monster resentment and outright violence was on the rise, and one human faction in particular was growing in its boldness as it took to hunting down not only monsters but the humans that associated with them. Russ had tried to push you away for a short while, plainly stating that it was for your own good, but you had validly argued back that you were friends with other monsters anyways, and had no intention on changing your behavior just because of the danger of a particularly violent group of assholes. He had taken to escorting you whenever you wanted to go out, if you were willing to have him - and if not, you had a feeling he was doing so anyways.

Tonight you were returning home from Muffet’s, a little too drunkenly on both your parts to safely teleport, and - well, what mattered is that now you held Russ in your arms, a strange fluid that matched the golden color of his magic oozing through his shirt from his ribs. The humans had been readily chased away by the blinding beam of concentrated magic he had shot from whatever the hell that dragon-like skull had been.

But stars, Russ was looking worse and worse. He told you to go, that the humans would be back soon, and he could hide himself away for now. You swore at him and told him to shut it, frustrated affection marring the effect.

It was only a few more seconds of delay before you made up your mind. You certainly couldn’t haul him anywhere fast enough walking - but…

Your hand grasped the clasp of your cloak. Consequences be damned, you would at least get him somewhere someone could do first aid. You met his gaze then, and told him to trust you - that you’d get him to safety.

With your clasp undone, you unfurled your wings.

Russ swore long and low under his breath, and whispered something about the ‘real angel’. You were blushing a bit, but chalked up his rambling to the effects of pain.

After a bit of struggling and a hushed apology for jostling him, he was on your back, and you were holding him as tightly as you could. With a few beats of your wings you were in the air, shooting high into the sky with a handful of updrafts, banking on safety in the obscurity of distance as you swerved to angle towards your destination.

Despite the circumstances, you couldn’t help but smile and flush a little deeper yet as Russ managed to whisper a few scattered words of adoration while you soared through the night sky.