#papyrus should be considered hot like I’m sorry I love him

[animationismycomfort]

finally got to play undertale on my PlayStation

I’m very happy :)

[shyneanon]

Been a while since I wrote a one-shot of my own inspiration! I had a bit of writer’s block, but I thought of something, and here it is! Just a little one-shot about Classic Sans that I wrote way too late at night.

---

Whenever Sans and Papyrus went to the grocery store, Sans would joke about sitting in the cart like a child. Paps’ frustrated responses were amusing.

But obviously such a thing wasn’t actually possible, so Sans had to stick with walking. It could be hard to keep up with his brother, so a lot of the time Papyrus just let him watch the cart while he strode around grabbing everything they needed. Goodness knew he was strong enough to.

This was one of those moments, so Sans lay his head on the handle to the cart, resting it. Man, it was cold near the dairy section. But his hoodie kept him warm, so he started to feel his consciousness slip away.

He noticed movement and his eyesockets instinctively blinked open. It was just a person; a girl, specifically, shopping nearby. Well, it was a distraction from falling asleep, and Paps got upset when he fell asleep, so he kept his eyes on you.

It looked like you weren’t used to this store; you were taking a while to find everything, and your eyelids would flutter in confusion as you glanced around the shelves.

You had long lashes….

Sans blinked, and attempted to shake the thought off. Random observation. It happens.

You grabbed something and gently brushed your hair out of your face so that you could read it. Your fingers looked really delicate…. And your hair looked so soft…. Sans watched it move as you unconsciously adjusted it. He found himself growing more awake as he watched, though he wasn’t sure why.

As you picked up something else and started reading it, you shifted your weight so that it was mostly resting on one leg. Sans’ gaze travelled down to your waist.

C… Curvy….

More messing with your hair. Sans… liked it when you did that….

You turned around, putting one of the items in your cart, and Sans got a proper look at you.

He didn’t notice when he mumbled, “Whoa.”

“SAAANS!”

He jumped, and looked over at his brother, who was glaring down at him. “What?”

“I SAID YOUR NAME AT LEAST FIVE TIMES, SANS!” He turned, following Sans’ previous gaze. “WHAT ARE YOU…”

He saw you and blinked. You were in the middle of checking your phone. You leaned forward a bit and your pose accentuated your curves; for some reason Sans suddenly felt very flustered and he glanced away. Was his face hot?

Papyrus gasped. “SANS! YOU’RE WATCHING A GIRL!” He grinned. “DO YOU LIKE HER?”

Well, if his face wasn’t hot before, it definitely was now. But he managed not to look alarmed. “Of course. You know me, Paps. Huge romantic.”

“DO NOT COVER THIS UP WITH JOKES! I, YOUR BROTHER, CAN SEE THAT YOU ARE CLEARLY ENAMORED WITH HER--”

Oh my God OK no. “Shhh!” Sans said.

“NO, I WILL NOT SHH!” He beamed. “COME ON, I HAVE AN IDEA TO HELP YOU TALK TO HER!”

He grabbed Sans’ arm and started pulling him in your direction. What is he doing? Sans legitimately considered shortcutting to escape, but that would upset Papyrus more deeply than intended. He’d noticed that Papyrus felt it was sort of selfish, using one’s abilities to just get yourself out of any situation you didn’t like.

Which it probably was.

“HELLO!” said Papyrus, and you looked up from your phone. Oh no I’m right in front of her. Why did he feel so nervous?

“Oh,” you said, smiling at Papyrus. “Hi.”

“WE NOTICED THAT YOU LOOKED LIKE YOU COULD USE SOME HELP!”

Now that he wasn’t being dragged at his brother’s much faster speed, Sans tucked his hands in his pockets, trying not to look nervous. What did looking… not-nervous look like, exactly?

“It’s not a big deal,” you said, looking embarrassed. “I’ve just never been here before.”

“WELL MY BROTHER SANS WOULD BE HAPPY TO HELP!”

Before Sans could do anything, he was shoved in your direction, albeit gently.

“HE IS A VERY HELPFUL PERSON WHEN HE WANTS TO BE!”

Your eyes went to him.

Wow, your eyes….

Sans raised one hand, smiling as casually as possible. “Hey.”

“Hi,” you said, smiling back. She’s smiling at me.... “Are you sure you wanna help?”

“Yeah, of course. My brother’s got us covered.”

“Thanks! You guys are so nice, if only everybody offered help to random people like this.”

“THANK YOU!” said Papyrus. “IT WAS SANS’ IDEA!”

Paps was lying? Paps never lied. Sans hadn’t realized that Paps would attempt to be his wingman in a situation like this. This is so embarrassing….

“I WILL SEE YOU OUTSIDE, SANS!” said Paps, and he went for their shopping cart.

Your attention went back to Sans and Sans felt his soul leap a little. Not sure what else to do, he held his hand out. “Hey. Nice to meetcha.”

“Nice to meet you too,” you said, and took his hand-- Why did I hold out my hand?! That had been a terrible mistake; your touch felt like a small jolt. Still, the two of you shook. “I’m (y/n).”

“Pretty name,” Sans said without thinking, then immediately felt his face get warm. Stop, stop blushing. C’mon. You act fine when you’re not all the time, this should be easy.

“Oh.” Was your face pink? “Thanks.” You looked at your phone again. “I’m shopping for my parents. We don’t need a lot, I… promise this won’t take up much of your time.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Thanks. Mm… we need cashews.”

Sans remembered a joke.

A joke. That would make him feel less awkward.

“Knock knock,” he said, not addressing what you’d said, and you blinked.

“Huh?”

“Knock knock.” He winked. “You’re supposed to say who’s there.”

When he winked he could swear he saw your face turning a soft rose color. It was so pretty.... But you smiled and said, “Who’s there?”

“Cash.”

“Cash who?”

Another wink. “No thanks, I prefer walnuts.”

You snorted and laughed a little. “That was horrible. I love it.”

Cute laugh…. Sans’ face got warm. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, I’ve got very low standards for humor.” You said it playfully.

“Well that’s great,” he replied with a grin, “cuz all my jokes suck.”

You thought a moment, then said, “I’ve got one.”

“Yeah?”

“Knock knock.”

“Who’s there?”

“Hatch.”

“Hatch who?”

“Oh, bless you.”

Sans let out a snort and a chuckle of his own. “Nice.”

“I have the feeling you know way more than I do,” you said, raising an eyebrow.

“You’re probably right.”

Your grin was so, so nice.

“C’mon, tell me more on the way there,” you said, and Sans’ soul leapt again.

“Sure,” he said, shrugging.

The rest of the shopping trip was mostly comprised of Sans leading you to various items while delivering terrible puns, and they made you laugh. Your laugh really was so cute.

Your face suddenly flushed red, and Sans blinked.

“What?” he said.

“Um… thank you.”

… Oh shit, did I say that out loud?

“Sorry,” he said, immediately trying to recover. “Did I say something weird?”

“N-- no,” you said, “it wasn’t weird, just… unexpected, hah.” You were still smiling, and your face was still pink. Had you liked the compliment…?

After a second, you looked back at him.

“I’m gonna miss you when this is over,” you said with a smile. You’d said it in a playful tone, but Sans still felt his face get hot. No, no, don’t blush in front of her, come on….

“Hey, me too. You seem cool.” He winked, and you turned pink.

“Stop doing that,” you said with a smile, “I’m trying to figure out if you’re flirting with me.”

“Do you want me to be?”

Your face got redder, but you shrugged. “Sure, I guess so.”

Sans’ soul felt like it was floating.

“Then I’m flirting with you,” he said, leaning on your shopping cart and giving you what he hoped was an attractive wink. You snickered. He wasn’t sure if that meant he’d looked stupid, but the reaction was a positive one regardless.

You looked back at your phone. “Um… oreo cookies.”

“Yum.” He thought, then said, “Those are on the other side of the store.”

“Ugh,” you said, but you were smiling. “I have to walk. It’s so much work.”

“Hey, I feel you.” He considered. “But…”

“... But?”

“I could get it faster.”

“How--”

Sans shortcutted to the aisle with the Oreo cookies, grabbed two boxes, and then shortcutted back to you. You looked bewildered-- probably wondering where he had gone and now wondering how he’d suddenly reappeared.

“What the heck?” you said.

For some reason, this made him feel really self-satisfied. “You wanted one or two boxes?”

You blinked. “How’d you do that? You… What did you even do?”

Sans shrugged. “I call it shortcutting.”

“So… it’s like… teleporting? You can teleport?”

Sans raised a finger to his teeth and winked. “Don’t tell anybody, kay? It was just for you.”

Your face lit up. Sans felt kind of dazed from looking at it. He couldn’t believe he was making you blush like that….

“Thanks,” you said softly. Looking a little embarrassed, you said, “We, um, only need one box though.”

“Cool,” said Sans, “I’ll just buy the other.”

You smiled as he put the single box in your cart.

By the time the two of you had left the store, Sans was almost halfway through with his box of cookies. Papyrus was, indeed, outside. Were the doors not automatic Sans assumed he’d probably be holding them open for every single person entering. And exiting.

“SANS!” he groaned. “OF COURSE YOU GOT SUGAR!”

“Sorry,” said Sans, grinning, “couldn’t help it.”

“YOUR TEETH ARE GOING TO GET ALL COVERED IN CHOCOLATE! YOU’LL NEED TO BRUSH THEM TWICE WHEN WE GET BACK!”

“Sure thing.”

You seemed amused. “You two are sweet.”

“THANK YOU!” said Papyrus. Sans just shrugged, feeling his face warm up again.

“... Hey.”

“Yeah?” said Sans.

Your face was pink. “Do you think… it would be OK if I gave you my number?”

... Really?

“Y… yeah,” Sans said, “of course.”

You held out your hand for his phone and he handed it to you, watching you as you typed it in. He couldn’t believe that… you… were giving him your number.

Wow.

He tucked his phone back in his pocket when it was handed back, and the two of you said, “Thanks” at the same time. Your smiles widened and you both blushed.

“See ya,” said Sans.

“See ya. Thanks for the help.”

“No problem.”

As you walked off, Sans felt like he was high on something. His soul was fluttering….

“YAY! YOU GOT HER NUMBER!”

Sans started. You weren’t out of earshot yet and Papyrus was already yelling.

“Yep,” he said, trying not to let it seem like a big deal.

“I AM SO PROUD OF YOU! YOU GOT A GIRL’S NUMBER!”

Sans’ face was hot all over again. He glanced over in your direction and saw that you were watching them with an endeared smile. Whyyyy?

But at the same time….

“It’s all thanks to you, Paps.” Sans smiled. “I never would’ve talked to her if you hadn’t forced me.” It was true. He would’ve been far too shy.

“OF COURSE! IT IS MY JOB AS YOUR BROTHER TO HELP YOU WHEN YOU NEED IT, AND YOU NEEDED HELP TALKING TO HER!”

“Thanks, bro.” He winked. “I’d say that I’d do the same for you, but the Great Papyrus won’t be nervous when he finds a girl he likes.”

“OF COURSE NOT! NYEH HEH HEH!”

The two of them headed for Papyrus’ car. As much as Sans joked with his brother, he wished he had the confidence Paps did.

But he was lucky that Paps was always there to help when he didn’t.

[smells-like-mettaton]

For your sensory fic requests: How about 35 with Alpydyne?

Rating: G Word Count: 1595 Prompt: "jumping into a cold pool" Read on AO3: here

---

Alphys blinked as cold poolwater splashed her in the face.

“Eight points!” Toriel announced from her beach chair. Next to her, Frisk held up a sign with the number seven painted on it. At least, Alphys was pretty sure it was a seven; it was hard to tell without her glasses on. She doubted Frisk would have rated Sans’s cannonball a one.

“You guys are too easy to please,” Flowey grumbled. His pot sat under the big umbrella next to Frisk. “I give the smiley trashbag a two. I didn’t even get wet.”

“Try standing over here,” Alphys suggested, drying her face on the hem of her terry-cloth dress.

She knew she’d been too close to the splash zone, but Undyne was about to leap from the diving board next. Alphys wanted to have the best view possible for the anime-worthy flips Undyne was sure to show off.

“How does he do that, anyway?” Undyne’s eyes narrowed at Sans. “He’s gotta be using blue magic to make himself heavier.”

“Being heavier wouldn’t, um, actually help that much,” Alphys pointed out. “For an optimal splash, you want to displace as much water as possible, so volume is more important than weight. Of course, if you don’t weigh enough, you won’t sink at all, and then the splash would be p-pretty lame.”

“Dang, Alphy, you’ve been holding out on me! I didn’t know you knew so much about cannonballs!”

“I don’t?” Alphys blushed. “I mean, I don’t have any p-practical experience. Just, um, the physics of it. Which, might be why Sans is so good at it, too?”

“That’s good enough for me!” Undyne grinned before scooping Alphys up in her arms.

“What?” Alphys’s eyes widened.

“You’re gonna help us get the best splash ever!!”

“Help—us? What do you—you’re—?”

Her eyes darted around, searching for help. All she saw was Papyrus wearing his black sunglasses and giving her a gloved thumbs-up.

“I BELIEVE IN YOU, ALPHYS! SHOW MY BROTHER WHO PUTS THE COOL IN POOL!”

“Th-there’s no… oh whatever.” Alphys gave up protesting.

Undyne tore off Alphys’s dress, revealing the red bikini underneath, and tossed it to Papyrus.

“DON’T WORRY! I’LL KEEP YOUR CLOTHES PERFECTLY DRY!”

Alphys trusted Papyrus on that. He hadn’t gotten near the water at all today, despite being the one to suggest the pool party at Toriel’s house. He had provided some pretty good spaghetti puffs for them to snack on, though.

“You ready, babe?” Undyne asked.

Alphys was not, and absolutely would never be, ready to cannonball into the pool with the love of her life. What if she tripped off the diving board? Well, that probably wouldn’t happen, considering she doubted Undyne would set her down. But what if she hit her head on the pool floor, or her swimsuit malfunctioned—

She quickly shoved down that thought.

“Ready!” she squeaked out, her face hot enough to evaporate any water left on it.

“That’s what I’m talking about!!”

Undyne grinned down at her, gave her one breath-stealing smooch, and then sprinted towards the diving board.

Alphys’s stomach somersaulted as the board bent and propelled them upwards with a loud BOING. Her claws dug into Undyne’s scales, but Undyne just hollered in delight.

“NGAHHHH!!!”

They hit the water in one unified ball of teal, red, and yellow. It probably looked awesome, but she could hardly dwell on that with the cold water engulfing her.

She managed to hold her breath until Undyne kicked them to the surface.

“You were AWESOME!” Undyne beamed.

Alphys spluttered a little, a few drops of water still caught in her snout.

“I, uh, I was?”

“HECK YEAH YOU WERE!!”

“I’m soaked to the bone,” Sans said from the edge of the pool. “Think you even managed to douse the little weed there.”

“The chlorine’s going to give me a rash,” Flowey grumbled. “Seven points.”

“Nine points!” Toriel added. “I’m going to need a new towel.”

Frisk’s sign seemed to read “zero,” but when they straightened out the soggy poster, the “one” in front of it became visible.

“What did I tell you!” Undyne hugged Alphys tight. “We’re the coolest!”

“Heh… I guess we are pretty cool.” Alphys grinned up at her shyly. “That was, um, actually pretty fun!”

“Does that mean you’re up for best two out of three?” Sans asked.

“Why not?” Alphys smirked. “It feels pretty good to kick your butt!”

“That’s the spirit, babe!”

“Don’t get too cocky.” Sans winked. “Hey Tori, you wanna show these nerds how it’s done?”

Toriel grinned, showing her gleaming fangs.

“I suppose I might as well, since I have been ‘dunked on’ already.” She stood, brushing off her black one-piece swimsuit. “Papyrus, would you do me the honor of taking my place on the judgement hall?”

“OF COURSE, TORIEL!” He saluted, but stood far back behind the beach umbrella. “I AM READY TO JUDGE FROM A SAFE AND RESPECTABLE DISTANCE!”

Alphys was tempted to join him, but Undyne stayed near the pool’s edge after climbing out. Besides, she was already wet.

“I’ve never, um, actually seen Toriel swim before,” Alphys admitted.

“Me either. They both look pretty confident, though.” Undyne frowned.

“You don’t think they’ll beat us, do you?”

“Nah. It’s best two out of three, so even if they show off this round, we’ve got time to make a comeback! Not that we’ll need it!!”

Alphys wasn’t so sure. Toriel had more volume than herself and Undyne put together. And if Sans was somehow using blue magic…

Toriel scooped Sans up in her arms, and the two of them glowed briefly as they leapt from the board.

“GET DUNKED ON!” They shouted in unison, before unleashing a splash that was more like a tsunami.

Alphys ducked behind Undyne, but couldn’t completely dodge the incoming wave. Papyrus cried out from behind them. When Alphys caught sight of him again, he was holding Flowey’s pot, and they were both safe and dry on the opposite side of the pool. Only Frisk looked completely unperturbed, still sitting in their beach chair and holding up the soggy “ten” sign.

“...Okay, that was pretty impressive,” Undyne admitted as Toriel paddled towards the edge of the pool, Sans resting sloth-like on her back.

“What was that?” He asked Undyne with a grin.

“Nothing, nerd!”

Toriel laughed. “I think they are saying they got ‘owned,’ dear.”

“Hey! We’ve still got one more round! We’re gonna crush you dorks into the dirt!! Right, Alphy?”

“Er…”

“FLOWEY HAS A BETTER IDEA!” Papyrus jogged over to them, still carrying the disgruntled flower. “WHY DON’T YOU TELL THEM, FRIEND?”

Flowey rolled his eyes.

“You idiots could just jump at the same time. Listening to you fight argue about who’s better is getting boring.”

Undyne blinked. “That’s… actually not a terrible idea!”

“I’m fine with it.” Sans shrugged.

Alphys nodded in agreement. While cannonballing with Undyne had been fun, she was a little afraid of what lengths Undyne would go to to beat Sans and Toriel.

“YES, FLOWEY IS FULL OF GREAT IDEAS! NOW, WE WILL BE WATCHING FROM AN EVEN SAFER DISTANCE, READY TO RECORD YOUR RECORD-BREAKING EXPLOITS! NYEH HEH HEH!”

Papyrus ran off, his feet fluttering as he hovered up to the roof of Toriel’s house. Alphys had long given up questioning his disregard for the laws of physics.

“Would you like to stand back too, my child?” Toriel asked.

Frisk shook their head and flashed a thumbs-up.

“Suit yourself, kiddo.”

“Alright! Let’s do this!!”

The four of them lined up at the diving board. Well, Undyne and Toriel lined up, with Alphys and Sans in their respective embraces.

“Um, are you sure this board is meant to hold—?”

As if Alphys’s words had been a spell, the diving board snapped beneath their feet. She barely had time to shout before they were all tumbling into the water, a mass of limbs and scales and fur.

She resurfaced quickly, spitting chlorinated water from her mouth. “Undyne?”

Undyne burst from the water, her wet ponytail slapping Alphys across the face. “That. Was. AWESOME!!!”

“Er… was it?”

Toriel pulled Sans out of the water by his skull and set him on her shoulders.

“Uh, sorry your diving board took a dive, Tori.” He grimaced.

“It is not your fault, dear. I should have foreseen that.” She didn’t look upset, thankfully. “I will install a new one eventually. For now, we should give Papyrus the show he is expecting, should we not?”

“Heck yeah!!”

After removing the broken diving board from the water, they once again lined up at the edge of the pool.

“You ready, bro?” Sans called out.

“THE GREAT PAPYRUS IS ALWAYS READY!”

Alphys grinned as Undyne counted them down.

“One… two… THREE!!”

Undyne and Toriel leapt into the air. Alphys felt a tingle of magic shoot through her, and then they were plunging back towards the water at record speeds.

The water seemed to flee from the force of their collective impact. The resulting wave roared in her ears and rocked her very core.

Undyne tried to carry them to the surface—but she didn’t need to. Alphys could nearly stand up in what was left of the pool’s water.

“Wow.” Sans blinked down from Toriel’s shoulders. “Uh. Looks like you won’t have to water your lawn for a while, Tori.”

She laughed, and soon the rest of them joined in.

“I suppose that is enough swimming for today,” Toriel said with a smile. “Who wants pie?”

[skelanonymous]

Song Prompt 4 -  You Don’t Know Me

I’m trying my hand at some bad guy poly, and if I get to my Little Night AU, this may become a prequel of sorts.

Song: You Don’t Know Me by Elizabeth Gillies

Skeleton: Nightmare

Words: 3.2k

“Boss, you can’t be serious right now.” Killer’s mouth hung open. Dust sighed off to his left, rubbing his face hard enough to shake dust from his hood. Horror wouldn’t meet his eyes, Cross also nervously avoiding them, leaving Error the only one still looking, albeit with some exasperation.

“I’m very serious.” Night responded to Killer without bending. “This is not something I’d like to be a part of.”

“If that’s the reason, cuz you don’t wanna, then that’s fine. But that sounds like a crock and I ain’t one for bullshit.” Killer grabbed the end of the table with whitened knuckles. Nightmare could taste the frustration off all of them, but his icy resolution could outlast their mounting agitation. “So just be honest. We can handle whatever you got to say.”

Nightmare looked at his phalanges, faking disdain with ease, unaffected stone face a talent he’d picked up before leaving the tree’s shade.

“I have no reason to lie. I am not willing to join your polyamorous posse.” They’d all been having “sleepovers” for months now, and he’d caught on long before he walked into a dream he wished he could erase. It would’ve been fine had it been Horror or Killer, but Dust was always vigilant and had remembered Nightmare’s brief intrusion the next morning. “I admit, it’s impressive you’ve managed to keep this working between so many of you, and I don’t care what you spend your free time doing, but my time will be spent on other ventures.”

“But in the dream-”

“I’m not a nun, but walking into a dream orgy when you expect something a little more tame and having a reaction isn’t that ridiculous.” Dust’s gaze bore into his skull. He couldn’t crack, not if he was trying to pass off this lie. Keeping calm was critical.

“So that’s it then. No?” Killer just shook his head. Good, please, give up. Nightmare’s feigned nonchalance had held through much worse, but the backlash afterwards would be worse if he broke beneath it.

“It’s a no.” Night stood from the little table he’d been called to like an intervention. “Now I’m returning to my study. Come find me if anything happens to the castle.”

He did NOT run, but he portaled the instant he turned a corner. It dropped him into a forest patch on the edges of this world just before he lost his composure.

“Son of a fucking BITCH!” His tentacles lashed out, splitting apart all the trees in the area with a giant swing. The corruption roared out of his mouth, furious and wild, screaming his voice hoarse. He didn’t give a damn about any of it, just seeing red from the blackened aura that got denser and denser around his body as he raged in nature, a force all on his own.

Of course he wanted to say yes! Envy scorched through his hands, clawing ahead for what it could not reach. Rage he reserved for himself, though saved some for his damned fate, at being too fucked to just be with a person. Even now, not within their embrace, the greed seduced his pitch black soul to have so many loves with which to indulge, having them all pay attention to him, their king, their saviour, they OWED this to him!

“God damn it, NO! Fuck you!” He continued ruining the countryside, rampant as the growth surrounding him.

He couldn’t love them. Not like they wanted, not the way they did each other, forever an outsider to the perfect temptation. He’d tip the balance and break the scales. He would destroy this for them. Slowly, he felt the brain fog raise, the tinges of red outlining everything finally fading away with his energy.

When the colors of the ruined forest fully returned, he directly portaled to his study. Dust was waiting patiently on the desk’s edge.

“The castle couldn’t have had a disaster that quickly.” Nightmare sat at his desk without acknowledging he’d been caught moping outside. Damn his perceptiveness when not distracted.

“I mean, it did.” Dust stated in a matter of fact tone. “They’re unhappy with the answer.”

“And what? You’re here to force me to change it?” Lashing out was what he excelled at. He wasn’t meant for soft cuddle puddles and doting, his body literal poison to those around him, his aura a drain. Dust didn’t bite.

“No. It wouldn’t be honest if it was forced.” He spoke airily, as if admitting the blatant truth could be anything but bitter disaster.

“Then why have you come to my study?” Nightmare hoped he’d rise to the bait that time, more direct in his aggression, and Dust would meet and rise to it most days, but besides twitching a few times, he holds his sanity at the low blow.

“To remind you. I know what I saw, and you know what I saw.” Dust didn’t leave room for argument and Nightmare didn’t lie about it out of respect. “Just know that the door is open should you change your mind.”

“Thank you, but my answer remains the same.” Damn him. Each denial took away more of his resistance. Perhaps he knew that, persistence hunting him with a strong will borne of the endless loops that forged most of his loyal following, waiting until one day he asked over something inconsequential like breakfast for the yes to slip out without Nightmare even on guard enough to catch it.

“Whatever you say Boss.” Dust nodded, but those eyes haunted him. He hadn’t heard the last of this, but the tide would ebb for now.

Nightmare fell back into the plush chair tiredly, already awaiting the next wave.

He knew what he wanted, but he could not obtain it. If he acted on his wishes, he’d destroy what he sought. And if he denied it, he’d be acting against his natural state while forcing himself to be miserable. There wasn’t a way to win that he could conceive of so he settled with ignoring the feeling entirely.

Despite his refusal, they didn’t change their interactions with him in the slightest after that first day.

Meal times remained largely unchanged except for the stolen glances at him if he betrayed any affection or laughed (which wasn’t often, but they were his crew and knew his weaknesses). Missions and responses to commands had also remained the same, though that was expected. They still offered him the opportunity to join in on movie nights. He had refused all of those since the rejection.

Maybe it was the way Horror had frowned when he’d said no for the fifth time in a row that changed his mind. Ignoring feelings didn’t make them disappear and he’d always been a little softer for Horror’s requests. He only asked for what he considered essential.

“Let me finish this. I’ll be down in five minutes.” Tidying up his papers took seconds, but he needed the minutes for composure.

When he made it down, Horror had curled up into Error’s lap with a gigantic grin, Error softly praising him with small head pets. The others waved at him.

“Hey Boss! Sorry, we let Cross pick this time.” The ‘we didn’t think you’d say yes’ was implied. Nightmare nodded at Killer while moving to sit on the couch against the wall.

“I can live with choosing next time.” The little bursts of joy hit him like a face full of air freshener, his sludge rippling but otherwise unaffected. They’d popped in the DVD and set up before flicking off the lights.

Nightmare watched intently for the first fifteen minutes, he’d never seen it before, then looked around.

The group had paired off into cuddly duos, Killer and Cross, Horror and Error, leaving a lonely Dust seated by Nightmare. From here, he could feel Dust’s cold longing, wanting to join in like the others but knowing his only possible partner would refuse him. The movie was loud, the others absorbed in it or each other and not even able to see them from where they sat. Nightmare laid a tentative tentacle over Dust’s shoulder. He refused to speak a word, merely moving his arm for Dust to accept or not.

His dual colored eyes dilated before quietly shuffling over. Leaning in, he pressed himself along Night’s side with a little wiggle to get cozy.

From this angle, Dust’s ears within an inch of his mouth, he spoke softly.

“Is this okay?” He didn’t know what he felt like to others. Dust hummed so low that Night could only feel it.

“Yeah.” His right eye twitched, Papyrus must’ve said something. “What are those weird swords called?” Night’s eyes flicked up to the screen.

“A flamberge sword. It’s mostly used to counter others by-” Nightmare went into its varied history, a few famous wielders, its construction. They kept their eyes on the film, and Nightmare whispered it to Dust, like a secret history lesson while some cheesy dramatic scene full of loud music drowned out the rest. By the time he’d stopped, Dust comfortably leaned fully against him. His head had come into contact with the corner of Night’s mouth without ceremony, suddenly making Night aware of his proximity.

“You’ve read a lot.” Dust turned his head, now his teeth only a breath away. Nightmare couldn’t take his eyes off of them.

“Books were all I possessed before…” His eye roamed over the group before returning to the gentle intensity building in the centimeter between their teeth. “Dust…”

“You can have this Boss.” Dust’s soul pulsed with determination, Night washed over in its warm waters. “I know how much you wanted it.” His red and blue eyes dropped to Night’s teeth, hovering with hot breath, half-lidded in need. “Just take it Nightmare.”

The touch of their mouths made Night’s own soul explode in the rush of desire that blazed into an inferno at the smallest sprig of kindling.  His tongue begged for entrance before he could think the action through, Dust letting it in without hesitation, shaky hands dug into Night’s sweater. The loud movie covered the quiet wet sounds, Night’s tentacles shifting silently to cradle Dust as he devoured all he was offered.

His soul lurched when he pulled back; he wanted to consume Dust but the rational part of his brain managed to catch him before he dove back.

“Hah. Nightmare, come back.” Dust’s hands had fisted in Night’s sweater tight enough to tear. Nightmare ignored it to squeeze his eye shut, trying to breathe through the mounting urge to take Dust apart, piece by piece, in view of the others, damn their relationship, he’d take ANY of them whenever HE wanted.

“Stop.” He said it at normal volume, shouting compared to the hushed exchange before. It drew the attention of the others. “I can’t.”

“Why?” Nightmare hadn’t opened his eye to see, but he could hear how hurt Dust sounded, hands trembling where they still balled in each other’s clothes. His normally distracted voice spoke firmly. “Tell me why.”

“I can’t.”

“You can. You just won’t. Tell me why.” Dust shook his head to dislodge Papyrus, ringing in crystal clear. It struck his soul, shattering the thin barrier holding back his honesty, unable to hold onto thoughts while containing the rot of his corruption from spilling over and swallowing them whole.

“I will devour you. All of you.” His tentacles sought them out, tentative. His vocal cords ached with an involuntary voice drop. “I will fucking ruin this. Your love cannot overcome my nature.” Each appendage curled around their throats, besides Dust, laying in his arms. The eye of the storm, Dust laid there calmly, like Nightmare’s tentacles weren’t threatening to strangle all of his loves in one fell swoop. Nightmare’s sludge dripped off of him, onto the couch, sizzling where it’d dropped onto Dust’s shins. He didn’t flinch.

“You wouldn’t know, you won’t let us try.”

He could feel the others struggling against him, hands sliding on the slick material while his tentacles grew tighter.

“I’LL KILL YOU!” Night growled, his own fingers clamping down on Dust’s neck, pressing down on the bone hard enough to creak underneath them. “I’ll take what I want and dust the rest!”

“Then do it.” Dust met his eyes unafraid. He relaxed into the hold, even as Night’s hands got ever tighter.

The corruption buffeted the inside of his skull, whirlwind of thoughts and crazed emotion, fed by the slow building terror of the others, their struggles more and more frantic the longer his tentacles gripped them. The only exception was Dust. His eyes had slid shut, limp and relaxed in his hands. Nightmare didn’t realize how out of control it’d gotten until he heard the crack.

Nightmare released Dust instantly, hands struggling with the healing magic Nightmare was trying to force through the agitated sludge.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” Night didn’t stop trembling until he felt Dust touch his wrists. The splashes of cyan across Dust’s calm smile startled him out of everything, tentacles dropping the others to curl in on himself. With a deep breath, the magic flowed more evenly, in control of this at the very least. The crack slowly wove together until only a scar remained. Nightmare avoided the gazes of the others he could feel staring him down, caught unaware by Dust pulling on his wrists, falling directly onto Dust’s chest, face onto his shoulder, forced to stare at his own mistake.

“Just relax…” Dust’s head rested atop his own. He felt the skilled hands slide into the crevices between his tentacles, pressing and rubbing away the tight balls of tension until he finally let them all go.

“How did he do that?” Cross whispered from the side.

“Hell if I know.” Killer sounded close as well, shuffling from just beyond his vision.

“Patience.” Dust’s fingers pressed down to unwind the stress of his back, though not the sins crawling there. Nightmare shifted to lay in a way that he could see off the couch. The others watched them from the floor with wide eyes. He sighed, tracing Dust’s sternum during inhales.

“I could have killed you.”

“You wouldn’t have.” Dust’s faith never wavered, the others radiated guilt. Nightmare averted his gaze.

“I’m still sorry.”

“Then make it up to me.” Nightmare sat up, resting his hands on Dust’s chest for leverage, ending up sitting on his lap before taking the hands that had fallen off his back. He pulled Dust up to match him.

“How?” Night blushed under Dust’s intense observing, relaxing at the gentle clank he got in exchange. It sent a tremor through his spine.

“Answer us honestly.” Dust’s skull twitched against him, tranquil determination a temporary state at best. He kissed Night softly over and over again, plying at his defenses with the promise of what this could be, curiosity over how they worked together. Dust wasn’t alone in this after all. “Do you want us?” The shuffling of knees hit his ears; the others had moved closer to hear him, their hearts glowing with so much hope and positivity it almost hurt to bear. Night’s voice broke under its weight.

“...yes…” The next kiss was triumphant, his face cradled close while he submitted to Dust’s tongue. Dust broke them apart, Night too dazed to see, his hands reaching out to pull his partner back.

The taste changed, the tonguework different, enthusiastic all the same. The hand on his cheek this time larger, he felt a thumb stroke across the line beneath his ruined eye. The name was out before he saw them.

“Cross.” Behind, someone had made a home amongst his tentacles, a back against his. “That’s unusually bold of you.” His eye trailed over the purple flush with an amused grin. He didn’t let the building anxiety pool in the poor guardsman, grabbing the collar of his jacket to kiss him again while his tentacles wound around his other ‘attacker.’ Killer’s groans drifted to his ears.

“Fuck Nightmare, didn’t think you’d get so handsy so fast.” The back of his skull tapped Night’s. Tentacles had wound up Killer’s legs to hold them still, a third binding around his chest to keep him pinned. The fourth explored his upper femurs, pressing over his shorts to his pelvis, Killer’s gasps music to his ears. He pulled back from Cross with a smirk.

“You seemed like you’d be into it.” Killer nodded against his back, but Cross also nodded in front of him, eyelights blown wide with Night’s taste in his mouth and his hands on his chin, wiping away the line of purple saliva from that last messy kiss.

Horror leaned against his leg from the floor. Night dropped a hand to rub against his skull, avoiding the large crack without seeing, knowing the location by memory alone.

“Thanks.” Horror purred from the ground, head falling more heavily in his lap.

Sitting on Dust, Killer against his back, Horror in his lap, and Cross leaning over to kiss him and Dust equally brought his soul peace. Error hadn’t joined, but Nightmare would’ve been more surprised if he had.

“I-I’m sure y-you know my stance on t-t-touching by now.” Error had his arms crossed, body still pixelated near his neck from the impromptu strangling earlier.

“Except Horror. He deals with Horror’s touches the best out of all of us.” Cross removed himself from the pile to offer his hand. Error glared at the TV, but took it anyway. “Most of us have gotten to hand holding though!” Cross’s enthusiasm turned Error blue.

“S-shut up…” He offered his other hand for Cross to take as well, even Error unable to contain his smile at Cross’s joy and attention.

It was laughably easy, Nightmare slotted into the dynamic with ease, an extension of their regular back and forths but sweeter, tinged with something warm. The loud voice in his mind still craved more but he could fight it off for now. Nightmare took a deep breath.

“I’m...still concerned, about everything, but I…” They waited for him to collect his thoughts. “If you’ll have me anyway, then I’ll give it all I have.”

“That’s all we can ask.” Dust smiled while Horror hummed his agreement.

“Hell, that’s what we’re doing too. You, aaaah, ain’t special.” Killer’s body writhed against him. His tentacles hadn’t been distracted by the moment, steadily edging Killer into whining pants, shorts wet against his appendage and thrusting back against it. Night raised him up to hold him solidly between himself and Dust.

“You know, this does offer many new opportunities to shut you up.” His black bones traced the rim of Killer’s pelvis peeking out over the waistband. Killer cursed when Dust leaned forward against Killer’s back, circling to the front to tease his lower sternum, finger peeking inside of his rib cage.

“None of them work. Trust me, we’ve tried.” Dust hid his smirk against Killer’s back, playfully nipping through the hoodie, shaking against the charged bones.

“Fuck you guys.” Night met Dust’s dual-tone gaze one more time. Hesitant to accept and run forward with them still. But Dust took his hand to bring it with him into Killer’s body, wrapping them both around his spine to a moan. They’d help and guide him, he need only ask for it, and with that, he laughed.

“Maybe we will.”

-

I’m very happy to have this out of my WIP folder.

[tttinytrash]

 Another of Shy’s lovely prompts! This time we have big Swap Papyrus as our merskele, and a highly unfortunate reader. Not much other preamble on this one, so let’s jump into it!

How had everything gone so wrong so fast?

The storm had come seemingly out of nowhere, and your tiny boat was being buffeted around like it was nothing. The icy sting of the wind-whipped rain juxtaposed terribly with the aching fire beneath your skin as you overworked muscles desperately tried to wrangle the lines to get you the heck out of this mess. 

You lost your footing on the soaked deck and tumbled harshly, catching yourself on the rope around the perimeter of your boat just barely. You clung for dear life as a huge swell dangerously tilted your entire hull, threatening capsizing you and your only hope of getting out alive. It was in this moment you saw a faint orange glow beneath the waves, but you had absolutely no time to consider what it could be as you scrambled back to your position to try and regain control of the boat before you hit the rocky outcropping nearby.

You got your ropes again and fought like mad, but it quickly became futile as an enormous wave struck you along the starboard side and tossed you off the boat, into the rocks. Thankfully, you missed the worst of them but felt a sharp pain in your left leg. You fought back the pain and came back to air to see your boat had been mercilessly dashed into the rocks shortly after you, and had begun to sink. 

You desperately paddled, kept aloft by your life jacket, but your safety gear was no match for whatever had apparently wrapped around your good leg and dragged you towards Davy Jones. You fumbled where you felt the pulling, realizing a rope from the boat was tangled around your leg. Thankfully your knife was still folded on your belt and you used it to saw off the rope. Without its pull you were rushing towards the surface again, but it seemed so far off you weren’t sure you’d make it from this depth. Is this how you left this world?

As your body was pulled upwards by your own paddling and the buoyancy of your vest, blackness creeped on the edge of your vision. ...and orange?

-----

Papyrus had felt the distress from a strong soul from deep below the waves. From his vantage point and because of his size the stormy currents were a novelty, but clearly for whoever had been caught above it was life or death. 

...maybe he’d just go check on them, push their boat out of the worst of it and back towards shore. Yeah, that’s all. No biggie. 

He came near the surface and saw it was lone human on a small boat. Jeez, how had they even lasted this long on their own? He was impressed, but looking for an opening in which he could help without being spotted. Humans spelled trouble for his kind, and despite the 0 EXP he saw in his Check he couldn’t not be wary. The last thing his bro or the rest of the school needed was hunters.

Unfortunately his caution meant the storm beat him to the punch, and smashed the ship. Oh Delta, was the human dead?

No! He could still feel the bright flare of determination somewhere... below him?

They were being dragged down by the wreckage, and as he darted towards them to free their leg he saw them do it themself. Oh gosh, they had a knife. The weapon made him hesitate again, which meant he felt their determination start to peter out. Their grip went slack as the knife fell away, consciousness slipping due to lack of air.

Curse him and his soft Soul!

He sped over, cupped his hands around them, and propelled them both towards air as fast as his fins could go. Delta let him not be too late...

The hoarse hacking when he made it to air was more of a relief than he’d expected, but after mostly clearing their lungs the fatigue won out and they collapsed into his hands They seemed barely aware and were just making drunken sounds, but their eyes did intermittently open.

During his observation, the waves of the storm actually managed to surprise him and dunk his skull underwater, but he managed to keep the human in the air thankfully. 

There was nothing else for it, he had to take them in and get them both out of this mess.

He took a brief moment to spit out seawater so the human would have air, then slipped them into his mouth without much ado. Tossing his skull back brought them to the opening of his throat, and they weakly threw their arms out as if to steady themself. The sluggish movement hopefully meant they weren’t fully aware still, as he didn’t have any time for reassurances (he narrowly avoided being dunked again and the storm was getting even worse) and didn’t need a fighting human inside. One strong swallow brought them swiftly toward his core, at which point he left the surface. 

One hand was absently brought to rest on his middle, where he felt the human slide in and go mostly still. He still felt the bright power of their soul, so they were alive, but they may have finally succumbed to exhaustion and passed out. That was fine by him, that left him time to figure out what the heck his next move would be.

-----

Wakefulness was slow to come back to you, and you spent a blissful moment in hazy awareness. 

Sadly for you, memory snapped back into place in the next moment which made you to jolt upright. The rapid movement was more than your abused body wanted to handle, and it very clearly told you as much. Well apparently you had to take a breather, so you took stock of your condition. Your headache throbbed in time with your pulse, your muscles ached from overuse, and your throat and eyes hurt from saltwater, but you were alive. You looked to your legs, which were the areas that hurt worst. The left was a rainbow of bruises and may or not be able to be stood on, but you were both surprised and relived the underlying bone wasn’t utterly shattered from your unfriendly meeting with the rocks. Meanwhile the right had an ugly forming bruise and plenty of abrasion from the rope that had wrapped around you and dragged you down.

Oh, right. Now you recalled being dragged downwards after the destruction of your boat. So... what happened to you? You remembered rushing back towards the surface, but not reaching it.

Where were you?

You looked around and saw you were in a spacious cavern. The sand along the edge was widest where you sat, oddly bundled atop what was likely someone’s sail at one point. Maybe even yours. The center of the cavern, and indeed the majority of the “floor” so to speak was water. So this must have been an air pocket. How far underwater were you? How long would this air last? Then again, the cavern was huge for a single human so food and water would be the first priorities. But it was still concerning to have limited air supply. 

Any planning ended when movement from the water caught your attention. A giant freaking skull of all things rose from the depths, followed by the rest of a skeletal torso adorned with an orange tail. Oh, god, the orange glow had been this thing?! What did it want?!

You were frozen in place, much to your chagrin and the monster before you focused its gaze on you. Oddly, it smiled when it spoke “oh good, you made it.”

“W-where am I? Who are you? What do you want from me?!”

He actually managed to quirk an eyebrow at you without having eyebrows. “in a cave, papyrus, and nothing.”

“...What?” Everything just felt too fast right now, but your panic did start to fade the longer the monster before you did a grand total of nothing towards you.

He laughed a little, surprising you enough to shake off a good chunk of panic and actually process that he’d been answering your questions.

“S-sorry. I’m a little scrambled right now.”

“got that part, yeah.” he teased.

You couldn’t help the laugh in response before replying “It was, Papyrus, right? I’m Y/N.”

“good to meetcha, kiddo. so, how much do you remember after your boat crashed?

“Not much. I was underwater last I recall, how did I get here?”

“didn’t miss a ton then. i fished you out, but with the storm it was best to bunker down for awhile. it’s still pretty nasty up there. i can take you back to shore when the storm lets up. for now, how’re your legs?”

“Not the best, but I’ll live.”

“lemme heal you up then.” he said, bringing his hand up towards you and approaching.

“Woah! Wait!” You scrambled to move away, only managing to tangle yourself in the sail and bring a wave of white hot pain to your left leg.

“right, big scary monster. got it.” He backed off, hands up in surrender. 

You felt bad about it now, but couldn’t help that his sheer size made him intimidating. Even if he’d apparently been the reason you weren’t dead...

“let’s try from a distance then, show that i can help?” He formed a bone from nothing, glowing bright green and as big as your hand. Surprisingly, he shot the bone towards you, where it struck the bruising on the better leg and appeared to melt into the skin on contact.

You flinched, expecting pain from the impact, but found it just felt warm and tingly instead. Upon inspection, the soreness was diminished and the bruising was nearly gone. You looked up to Papyrus, mouth agape in wonder.

“heh, maaaagic~” he wiggled his fingers, clearly amused by your reaction. “can i help now?”

You hesitantly nodded, presenting your pretty busted leg. You two were stuck here for now, may as well give him a little leeway. 

You didn’t scramble away at his approach this time, but couldn’t help but tense up anyways. He gingerly brought his hands forward, laying the very tips of his long, thin fingers atop the damaged limb far more gently than it seemed should be possible for such large hands. Even the feather light touch made you flinch momentarily before his phalanges started to glow the same green as the launched bone had been. Warmth seeped into your leg, and it felt like a warm blanket on a cold rainy day. The energy being transferred somehow carried a sense of benevolence, which made you feel safe.

“we’re lucky it’s your tibia that got the worst of it. bones are my specialty, for obvious reasons.” He said, smiling a little at the final comment.

You chuckled at his observation, “I can see why. And, uh, thank you for everything, I don’t think I actually said that yet.”

“eh, don’t mention it.”

For how odd this whole encounter was, it wasn’t so bad at all.

-----

Well, as comfortable as the human had gotten with him (not feeling the fear radiating off them after awhile was such a gratifying feeling) he still wasn’t looking forward to getting them out of here. He kinda knew this was gonna be rough, but with the storm outside finally quelled he needed to get this little human back home. 

He had left the cave to assess the storm, but his thoughts were completely focused on how to make the next steps easier. So distracted, he almost swam past the entrance to the cave entirely. Luckily he snapped out of it and was able to redirect to enter the cave. The human perked up as soon as his skull crested the water, and he didn’t fight the smile in reply.

“ready to go back topside, squishy?” he asked.

“The storm is gone?” The human asked hopefully.

“yep, won’t be any trouble.”

“Ok so how do we do this? Are you just going to cup me in your hands, or...?”

“ah, about that. we’re pretty deep down, i don’t think you’d make it back to air just holding your breath.”

“Oh, well how did i get here then?”

“same way you’ll gave to get back, i just played submarine. i’ll just take you in, and you get to relax while i take us back towards the nearest port.”

“...I don’t follow.” 

They were confused and hesitant, but not outright scared yet. That was good. The hope was that being casual and forward about it would play off the trust he’d already built, “it’s totally safe, but the short version is i’d swallow you and let you out later.”

There was the inevitable flare of fear, but it wasn’t as strong as it could have been. “Safely? You’re sure?”

“yep. you’ve already done it, but i’m not surprised you don’t remember given your state when i found you.”

They were silent, but a plethora of emotions swirled around them. He could easily feel their distress without even trying.

Better try reassurance and appealing to logic, then. “kiddo, if i’d wanted to hurt you, wouldn’t i have already done it?” he kept his voice soft, non-accusatory, and gave them space to think. 

His words seemed to have cut through their clouded emotions and they nodded after a moment. “Yeah... you would have. Ok. If that’s how I get home, let’s do it. Can you just... make it quick? To uh... get me inside, that is.”

“you want me to just do it for ya?” he asked, somewhat surprised.

“Yeah, get it over with. I don’t want to think about that part too much if I’m being honest.”

“alright, can’t say i blame you.” He gently scooped the human into his hands, and his Soul sunk a little at how much they’d curled in on themself. “you can close your eyes if you want, i’ll tell you when it’s done.”

They took his advice, and he saw them cycle a steadying breath. Well, they’d said make it quick so...

He pinched the back of their shirt, hung them over his open mouth, and lowered them in. He was able to release them and the slight drop brought their legs into his throat. The extra space meant their head was fully behind his teeth, so he closed his mouth around their warm body. He felt their hands flutter blindly around the area as if they were fighting the urge to stop their descent. He decided to keep going, even if it felt a little wrong when they were so clearly anxious, to comply with their request for speed.

One swallow brought their hips down, and he felt his throat dip into the small of their back. Another gulp and he felt their ribcage stretch the ectoflesh around them, and a third brought their form fully inside his. He brought his hand up to trace their downward journey, until he lost them past his clavicles. He felt them spill into his belly a few seconds later, limbs flailing outwards as they startled in the suddenly more open space.

He didn’t think they really needed him to tell them, but went ahead and said it anyways “ok kiddo, that’s the whole trip. i’ll give you a sec to get your bearings before we head off.” While they settled, he leaned his spine along the sandy embankment in the cave and bought his hands to fold over his belly in concern for his worried passenger.

They did start to move around, movements shaky and uncertain. He didn’t comment, letting them figure things out as they pleased. Their tactile approach did feel pretty nice, actually, but he didn’t outwardly react for fear of discouraging them. Whatever observations their pawing at the walls and floor were helping them make was lessening the fear exponentially.

After a while he hesitantly asked “you doing ok in there?”

Their tiny voice sounded a little odd coming from so very close, “Y-yeah. I’m good. ...I’m good...”

“good. told you it was safe. how do you feel?”

“Confused? Overwhelmed? ...I’ve got a dumb question though.”

He laughed, which seemed to have knocked them over since he felt an impact inside. “whoops, sorry kiddo. but if you’ve got questions you can ask.”

“...What does this feel like for you?”

That surprised him, and he fumbled for something to say beyond “good.” They took up space, which was helpful considering it’d been awhile since his last meal. Definitely wouldn’t bring that up though, for fear of scaring them. 

“Papyrus?”

Shoot, had he been silent for that long? “sorry, surprised me there. uh, i guess this feels protective? kinda feels good, like a hug?”

“But you can feel me in here?”

“of course. you’re right here,” he lightly pressed in where he could feel their weight, and heard the squeak of surprise in response.

The squeak devolved into laughter, and they hesitantly pushed back at his invading hand. 

He chuckled and relented on the pressure, “alright, that one wasn’t even dumb. any more questions?”

“I guess that was the big one. Think I’m set to go.”

“cool, hold tight then.” He pushed off the sand, ducked out of the cave, and headed towards human civilization.

The human slid around due to the drastic shifts in gravity, but resettled relatively quickly.

After a bit, Papyrus offered “i can let you see where we’re going if you like.”

“You can do that?” they sounded excited at the prospect.

He turned his magic from opaque to transparent in reply, earning a happy gasp from the human as they quickly readjusted to take the best advantage of the view. He went quiet again, happy to let them enjoy the views of the ocean most human weren’t afforded. 

This really wasn’t how he’d planned for his day to go, but he couldn’t really say this experience left him disappointed. 

With any luck, maybe he’d get to see this little sailor out on the sea again.

[mortimer-writes-sometimes]

A Warm Feeling

Chapter One: Let Me Walk You Home

Summary: Here's the start to a Sans x Grillby fic you didn't know you needed.

Warnings so far: Nightmares

Chapter Two

Read this on Archive of Our Own or Wattpad!

Sans was… anxious. It had been three days since the last complete reset, and the kid still hadn’t left the Ruins. This happened sometimes, of course. Sometimes Frisk liked to take their time. They liked to spend a few days relaxing and living with Toriel before rushing out into the cold sometimes. Those runs were usually Pacifist runs, and they were good ones. Frisk would hang out in Snowdin for awhile, visit Undyne more than once, and watch anime with Alphys before finally moving on to face Asgore. Once Frisk even stayed around in Hotland long enough for Mettaton to be repaired and recharged, wanting to do another (less deadly) game show with him. Yeah, those were the runs Sans preferred over all.

However, the last run… hadn’t been like that.

On Frisk’s last run, they came out of the Ruins shuffling along, covered in dust. Sans was surprised for the first time in a long time. They’d spent a whole week in the Ruins, and that usually meant that they wanted to do a Pacifist run and spend time with everyone. Surely Frisk didn’t think they could get away with spending time with the others and still pick Genocide? Frisk laughed at the whoopie cushion, but… it didn’t feel right.

Frisk played along in Snowdin. They didn’t kill anyone, did all of Papyrus’s puzzles, and took their time in town. Still, Sans couldn’t let his guard down. Just when he thought that maybe this was another messed-up neutral run… Frisk fought Papyrus. Papyrus died… and so many others did as well.

Frisk took their time, playing with them, luring them into a false sense of security before striking. There was no time to try to evacuate everyone. Sans was lucky he’d gone to watch the fight, because he managed to get ahead of Frisk and stop by all the local hot spots, screaming at everyone to get out. People left everything, rushing to get to sneak out behind Frisk and start evacuating towards Waterfall. Of course, Sans knew it was pointless.

Frisk came to Grillby’s first, blocking the exit. Even fighting multiple people at a time, they showed no mercy, and the room began to fill with dust. Sans watched, feeling helpless as Frisk advanced towards the bar, smiling as they locked eyes with Grillby. Sans could have sworn the kid mumbled, “I’ve always wanted the chance to fight you.”

Sans couldn’t move. He screamed at Grillby to run, but the bartender didn’t acknowledge him, preparing his magic. Frisk dodged the fire easily, and Sans watched as they raised their stupid toy knife and--

“SANS.”

Sans woke up with a gasp, tears streaming down his face. He had to look around and orient himself for a moment. He was at Grillby’s, sitting at the bar. There was no dust, and most of the lights were off, casting the room in a dim, comfortable glow. The brightest source of light in the room was the fiery bartender in front of him, completely unharmed and wearing a look of heavy concern. Grillby had his hands on Sans’s shoulders, the comforting warmth seeping through the skeleton’s hoodie. He sighed in relief when Sans finally focused on him, tilting his head. “Just breathe, Sans. Are you alright? That was… quite a nightmare.”

Sans wiped at his tears, huffing out a hollow chuckle. “Yeah, I’m alright. Nightmares happen, you know?”

Grillby let go of Sans, and Sans immediately missed the warmth. The bartender adjusted his glasses and fixed Sans with a look that seemed to pierce right through the skeleton’s facade. “You woke up screaming, Sans,” Grillby pointed out, firm but not unkind. “It’s alright if you don’t want to talk about it, but don’t try to tell me that was just an ordinary nightmare.”

“Alright,” the skeleton conceded, “You got me. It was… a little intense, but I don’t really feel like talking about it. I already barely remember it anyway.” He woke up screaming more often than not these days, especially since Frisk had started to try new things again. Even the little comfort Sans could take in Frisk taking their time in the Ruins was now stripped away. Although, come to think of it, this had been the first time he’d woken up screaming at Grillby’s before. Taking another look around, he finally realized that he and Grillby were completely alone. Was the bar closed?

Catching Grillby’s expression, the bartender answered Sans’s silent question. “Yes, I’m closed for the evening. You’ve just been… well, more exhausted than usual. Your brother hadn’t come barging in looking for you yet, so I decided to just let you rest for a little while.”

Sans rubbed the back of his neck. Had he really been that obvious lately? “Thanks for that, Grillbz. I’ll go ahead and get out of your hair so you don’t have to burn the midnight oil for too long.”

Grillby rolled his eyes at the skeleton. “Let’s see,” he mused, “I think that’s twenty-eight now? No, twenty-nine.”

Sans laughed at that. “Lemme guess, keeping count of how many times I’ve made that joke? If I get to a hundred, do I win a prize?” His smile became a bit more genuine at Grillby’s eye-roll. “Come on, you know you love me.”

“And it’s infuriating,” Grillby responded. “And… it’s also exactly the reason I’m walking you home tonight.”

“Huh?” Sans sat up a bit straighter. “Grillbz, you don’t have to do that… It’s late, and my house is like, just down the road.”

“So it’s no trouble to walk a little ways and make sure you get home safely.” Grillby grabbed his coat from under the bar, shrugging it on. “I’m not taking no for an answer,” he continued. His tone softened as he looked at Sans again. “You look… well, for as long as you slept today, you still look so tired. If you won’t let me walk you home for your sake, do it for mine. You’ve trailed off in the middle of eating sometimes. I would feel horrible if I came to open up tomorrow morning and found you asleep out in the snow.”

Well, there wasn’t really any arguing with that. “Alright,” Sans conceded, “You win, but just so you know, if Paps gets on to me about making you stay late, I’m holding you accountable.”

“I’ll take it off your tab,” the bartender joked. He came around the bar and pulled out his keys, unlocking the door and holding it open for Sans. He turned off the last of the lights, locked up, and then started walking in the direction of Sans’s house.

The silence was… comfortable, as the two walked side-by-side. Sans had to admit, it was nice to have Grillby’s light illuminating the snow, compared to stumbling through it in the dark. He glanced up at the bartender again, thinking.

Grillby caught him staring and smiled a bit. “What is it? Is there something on my glasses?”

Sans blushed and looked away, chuckling. “No, sorry. I was just… thinking. You’re too kind to me, you know that? I guess I could say that you’ve got a warm personality.”

Grillby rolled his eyes. “You know that isn’t always true. You should see me when I get… ‘fired’ up.”

Sans tried and failed to choke back a laugh. “Oh my god, did you just make a fire pun? You didn’t. I’m still asleep.”

“I take it back. I should have let you pass out in the snow,” Grillby grumbled. Even as he fussed, however, there was amusement hiding in his voice. “Anyway… You’re welcome, I suppose. That’s just what friends do.”

“...yeah,” Sans mumbled, caught a little off guard. “Still, thanks.” He considered Grillby a friend, for sure, but it had always been sort of an unspoken thing. To hear Grillby admit, out loud, that they were more than just friendly acquaintances felt like stepping over some kind of line, but… in a good way. Like they pushed past some kind of barrier. Yeah, they were friends. Good friends, even.

When they arrived at Sans’s house, sure enough, Papyrus swung open the door. “SANS!” he cried, “I was about to come out and look for you myself! Of course, the one evening I come home late from training, and you aren’t even home! And look, you made Grillby stay up with you!”

Sans chuckled and looked up at Grillby. “Again- this lecture’s on you.”

Wanna keep up with the story? Read this fic on Archive of Our Own or Wattpad and subscribe to get notified when a new chapter goes up!

Chapter Two is out now!

[zosonils]

what are some random papyrus headcanons you currently have?

ooughwhhghgh anon you know the EXACT way to my heart. got a map to it and everything. a real good and fancy map. the ones with sea monsters in the corners

autistic adhd papyrus real

he tends to think of anything he doesn’t understand [and even some things he does!] in terms of puzzles, since they’re a lifelong special interest and they help him contextualise things! for instance if he’s navigating someplace he’s never been before it’s easier for him to visualise things as an incomplete map that he has to find the pieces [landmarks] of than it is to just wander until he finds his way or go up to someone and ask for directions [talking to people he doesn’t know very well is also a puzzle and he has more trouble solving that one because sometimes the clues lie to you]. this approach to things makes him astoundingly good at working through things logically, although between the difficulties applying this sort of thinking to unpredictable social situations and his occasional penchant for insane troll logic he doesn’t have a 100% success rate

in addition to this he’s a really visual thinker and can understand almost anything really quickly if he has a way to visualise it, whether it’s explicitly given to him or he thinks of one himself and suddenly goes OH I GET IT NOW. anything that doesn’t come with a coherent visual metaphor is borderline impossible for him to grasp, though. dude needs his diagrams

he likes playing video games, at least when he isn’t hyperfocused on his duties as a royal guard in training, and he tends to get an insane amount of mileage out of them because once he beats whatever objective the game explicitly gives him he’ll start making up his own self-imposed challenges or ‘puzzles’ instead. like if you gave him tetris he’d be super into the standard a-type and b-type modes, but once he gets tired of those he’ll start doing stuff like trying to play in time with the music, or without rotating any pieces, or painstakingly arranging incomplete lines so that the empty spaces form some kind of intricate pattern

gloves and especially scarves are a comfort accessory for him! even before/after the battle body is a thing and he’s wearing different clothes from one day to another pretty much every outfit he wears includes those accessories. if it’s too hot for a huge warm tightly-wrapped scarf he just grits his teeth and wears it anyway

the reason pap hates grease so much is that it sets off literally every single sensory issue he has. it sticks to you when you touch it just a little, it feels just as gross through your gloves, it’s hard to wash off, it stains your favourite scarf so you have to put it through the washing machine twice to make absolutely sure it doesn’t smell weird later and stress you out again, it has a gross taste that stays in your mouth for ages, it’s just the worst! how his brother stomachs the stuff he’ll never know [and it’s not because he doesn’t have a stomach, that doesn’t mean he can’t have standards either]

papyrus knows that sans suffers from depression, and he understands what that actually means as opposed to just having a surface-level grasp on ‘sans isn’t happy as often as he should be’. the issue isn’t that he doesn’t understand or desperately want to help, he does, but the sheer magnitude of sans’ issues is just substantially more than papyrus has any frame of reference for. the best he knows how to do is to be as blisteringly positive as possible in hopes that some of it will rub off on sans, while also refusing to enable any of the lazy or blatantly self-destructive habits sans has that papyrus can tell aren’t making him feel any better. short motherfucker needs a trained therapist and/or antidepressants more than anything but papyrus is doing everything he can, and while papyrus being papyrus is already enough to keep sans going he’s helping as much as he does specifically because of the deliberate effort he makes to beat sans’ depression over the head with a bone until it runs off hissing

wow that one got long lmao sorry i just really hate when people portray papyrus as completely oblivious to sans’ problems when he’s pretty strongly hinted to understand them to at least some degree and 1. it literally makes for such a better story on both the heartwarming and crushingly tragic ends of the spectrum if pap knows and is doing his best to help 2. even if it didn’t people are still deliberately ignoring huge chunks of papyrus’ characterisation in favour of portraying him as the smol little innocent cinnamon roll uwu bean who doesn’t understand anything and y’all have got to realise the implications of forcing this personality on the most heavily autistic coded character in the game :|

on a more lighthearted note, papyrus can reluctantly but wholeheartedly appreciate a good pun or cleverly-planned prank, he just knows that sans likes getting a rise out of people with them and goes with his instinct to groan over his instinct to laugh because it makes sans happy. sans is completely aware that papyrus is doing this, so there’s an unspoken self-aware undertone to their whole routine lmao

whenever papyrus, sans, and undyne are together they have this wacky dynamic where they’re all constantly tossing the straight man role around like a hot potato and i want a dumb sitcom about the three of them living in the skeleton household that goes absolutely mental with this wacky dynamic and god damn it i’ll write it myself if i have to

papyrus gets to kin me for this one, there’s like a single phineas and ferb dvd that fell into the underground a few years ago that made its way to him in one way or another [sans probably gave it to him with no way of predicting the special interest hell [positive] he was about to unleash] and he immediately became obsessed. he can recite entire episodes from memory because he watched them so many times the audio got burned into his brain. his favourite character is doof and he considers the annoying dog his personal perry the platypus. when he gets to the surface and finds out that there’s like 200 more episodes he cries with happiness

aroace papyrus also real

it’s getting late so i’m going to leave this here but i am always down to talk about papyrus. i fuckin love papyrus so much guys

[jamestrmtx]

Fairytale Complex - [Undertale | Sans x Reader]

[Gender Neutral, Frisk's Parent Reader | Slow Burn]

Chapter Sixteen | Dummy! (Part 1 of 3 | His POV)

[First] | [Previous] | [Next]

Alternate Chapter Title: Oh, Sugar Honey Iced Tea!

• • •

"You're the one they're dating, aren't you?" Jerry asks, obstructing the line. A few potential customers leave when they notice what's going on, not bothering to become involved in the mess. "How's that gonna even work, though? They're only into real men as far as I know. You're just bones and magic."

"This really ain't the place for us to be talkin' about this, pal," Sans replies, looking behind Jerry. "Just lemme do my job. We can talk about this after I clock out."

"Don't you have a lunch break? Let's talk by then."

"'Fraid I've already got plans for lunch."

"Does it involve them?"

"Maybe." The monster shoos him out of the hot dog stand, continuing to serve those in wait. "Dunno why you're still so hung up over this, though. Why don't ya move on?"

"That's easier to say than do." Again, Jerry obstructs the line, ignoring those who tell him to buzz off. He suspends himself over the cart and grabs Sans by the collar, pulling him off the ground until he's to his eye level. He narrows his eyes and tightens his grip on the monster's shirt, yet the latter remains calm. "How far have you gone with them? You're betraying our friendship."

Sans uses magic to break free from Jerry's hold. Then, he shrugs, hands slipping into his pockets. "Let's end it, then. Rather have that than let you keep on questionin' me over weird stuff, and then make me lose customers 'cuz ya keep on blockin' the line."

"Wouldn't have happened if you'd just tell me what's going on."

"I would," Sans comments, taking a water bottle and handing it to one of his clients. "But realistically speakin': What's it to ya? From what I've noticed so far, they've moved on from you, pal."

"But I haven't."

Chuckling, Sans takes a break from the conversation to look up at the sky, grey clouds blocking the sun and the heat. There are people around with their umbrellas already at hand. Those who don't have any rush to find someplace with a roof. "I'm gonna say this nicely, so hear me out." He emerges out of the hot dog stand and starts closing things up, not only due to the worsening weather, but it being barely ten minutes away from his lunch break. If Jerry was still at it, he needed that extra time to get him off his back. "I don't want any trouble, so stop tryna stir some. You had your chance, Jerry. Now it's none of your business who your ex chooses to date, and even less how far they've gone with that person."

"It should be if Frisk will be in the picture."

"Then take responsibility and look after them. You're worryin' too much about this."

"You don't know what I've been through."

"Maybe not, but I can at least tell you to try. Didn't you do the same when I was talkin' about hitting things off with (Y/N)?"

"That was a mistake." He scoffs, glaring at the monster. "Don't rub it in."

Sans finishes closing up right as the first few drops fall. A strong wind blows, wet earth and hot concrete wafting through the air. When he walks off -- Jerry now left behind -- Sans soon stops, hearing him mutter out a 'wait'. Then, he turns around, facing up at the human man, anger present in his posture, stiff and awkward. "Just... Just tell me if you're serious about them or not."

Though it pours, Sans is unable to move. He stays still and considers Jerry's words, thinking back on the night at the hotel and yesterday evening.

Sure, he found them attractive -- attentive and dedicated when it came to their role as a parent, too.

But why exactly did he want to be with them?

Despite his social circle, he mostly thrived alone, and taking up big responsibilities wasn't his thing, in truth. It often tired him out to so much as consider having a serious relationship with someone, and he couldn't even maintain his current friendships or the day-to-day life with his brother. He sounds a lot like the same man he's judging with those last lines, yet it doesn't feel right; that same sensation increases the more he considers his feelings and the situation overall. Living with his brother brought upon an inevitably energetic lifestyle. His personality was far different from Papyrus's, and -- on some occasions -- he didn't exactly feel his best self knowing those differences were still present between him and most of the people he knew.

So why was he getting himself into something as complex as a romantic relationship? 

Was he only curious about how it all felt, having heard others around him talk about love and intimacy ever since he could remember?

If that was the case, then it really wasn't okay for him to keep fooling around with them.

And judging by how stern and persistent Frisk was when it came to defending their primary care parent, they wouldn't be, either.

"You just think they're attractive, and that's about it. Right? They're only eye candy to you, I'm sure." Jerry comments, Sans's time having run out. "Betting you ten bucks you'll ditch them the second you get bored of them."

He doesn't hold back his tongue, replying with, "Talkin' from experience?"

With the rain now pouring too hard for either of them to continue, Jerry settles by glaring at the skeleton before giving his back to him. "You dodged my question," he remarks, snickering. "Let's have a talk when you've actually got an answer, and maybe then you can go ahead and judge me all you want, bro." Silence arrives, broken with, "In the end, you're just as bad as me."

Sans stays quiet, analyzing the bit of truth in Jerry's words.

Before Frisk freed his kind, how many times didn't he simply stand by the sidelines, watching as fallen human after fallen human got hurt, sought, and wounded -- until their passing? 

He didn't hurt anybody, but then he also didn't help anybody either. Things had gone in a similar way with Frisk; he'd only watched over them every so often, fulfilling Toriel's promise of not hurting any human, but half-heartedly -- seeing as he'd never bothered to help them much, either.

What guaranteed he wouldn't do the same thing here at the Surface, and even more with a human crush he was only recently getting to know?

"Sans, you're soaked!"

Speaking of them, Sans sets those thoughts aside and looks up to see an umbrella covering him up. (Y/N) stands under it and close to him, brushing shoulders as they escort him off to drier land. Their touch sends electricity down his body, yet he forces himself to ignore it, a flash of guilt overcoming those wants. He accompanies them under a bus stop, its roof providing partial cover from the rain. They keep the umbrella straight even as they rummage through their belongings, looking intent to take out something from there. "Hold on a second," they say, retrieving a pink and polka-dotted handkerchief from one of their bag's tiny side pockets. "It's… not really much, but it's better than staying all wet."

Sans nods, still too lost in his thoughts to respond properly. He takes off his jacket and grabs the piece of cloth, quirking an eye socket when he sees the human move their gaze elsewhere. "...Your shirt's a bit thin," they comment, as if reading his mind. If it embarrassed them, it was hard to tell with their voice, too quiet for him to catch onto any change in tone. "Should we find somewhere else to stay? The sky just keeps getting worse."

Almost seeming to set those priorities straight, the weather responds to their comment by lashing out more rain, stronger than before. A car drives past, sending a torrent of water at his and everybody else's direction, holding little regards to speed, puddles, and those nearby. He reacts by instinct, casting a quick shield to prevent everyone around from getting wet. As he steps back, his shoulder brushes with theirs again and he's forced to suppress another shudder. His soul and body both long for their presence; his brief time with them at the hotel has now become a faint yet pleasant memory he wanted to keep and cherish whenever possible. "Let's go," he replies. Then, he reaches out for the umbrella without looking.

He grabs their hand instead -- by accident, that is. 

To his surprise, they don't pull back, and he follows their gaze to see them looking up at the sky. "...It's getting worse," he hears them say, a hint of sadness showing up on their tone, words muttered. "Let's go to my place." Their comment is pure survival instinct more than anything suggestive. He sees their chest rise and fall at quicker intervals, hinting at panic. "I need to go get Frisk if the weather keeps up like this." 

Their voice breaks and their hand stays with his. Briefly, he wonders why they're scared over the bad weather, that being something mostly he was known for. 

"Aren't they with Toriel today?" Sans asks, trying to lighten up the mood. "The kid's safe if you're worried about 'em."

(Y/N) remains quiet, observing the rain before saying, "I… I lost them in a storm like this one the last time they ran away." They huff, not in annoyance, but in fright -- based on the shudder their body makes. They press themselves closer to him, the height difference making their arm brush with his shoulder. Their head rests against the top of his, tilted over to the side. "I'm worried they'll do it again with what… happened yesterday."

He slips his free hand back into his pocket, still too awkward to pull his hand away from the umbrella. "Do ya really think they'll do somethin' like that again?" It's an unforeseen question, one he feels imprudent over asking. Even so, there's no turning back now, and he can only try to soften up his words better. "They looked pretty sorry for doin' that twice."

"Still…" They press closer to him, holding his waist. Judging by how careful their touch is and how little their expression shifts from their sorrow, he shakes off the possibility of this being one of their attempts at paying back at him for his flirting. "I'm worried." Their hand slips away, leaving the ghost of their warmth on his bones. "We should get going. You're still soaked." They smile, continuing with, "Thank you, by the way. It was a lot better having you pick us up, rather than taking the bus at seven."

Finally capable, Sans pulls his hand back and follows them out of the bus stop, finding additional coverage under the roofs of nearby buildings. "No problem," he says, looking up at them. Only the human and himself can be seen walking; the rest of the people around either make a run for it, or take cover inside shops and offices. "That's what we're all here for, pal."

They smile; all the uncertainty from before seems to have never existed with how bright their expression is. Then, they nod and bump their hip against his. "I mean it," they say, lips tugging upwards. "I, well… I still feel weird over our date, but in a good way, though."

• • •

He arrives at their home an hour after. 

The weather's still at it, though compared to previous times, there's no thunder to worry about yet. All sorts of leaves litter the grass and the roads around, the strength of the wind being responsible for it. A few car alarms go off as debris falls over them, leaving their owners to try bringing control over the situation. 

When he makes it with them to the front door, they open it up in no time at all and bundle him up with a towel as soon as they step inside. 

"You should shower and change, just in case," they say, slipping off their shoes. They set the pair aside next to the welcome mat, and he figures he should do the same, too. "I'm not sure if monsters can get sick this way, but you should head over to the bathroom while I look for some clothes."

It's only when they turn to him that the situation finally gets to him. Captivated by their words, he looks up at them with a grin, that alone resulting to be enough for them to freeze and stay still, like a deer in the middle of a road. "Taking this dating thing seriously, huh?" he asks, stepping closer to their side. They don't take a step back, nor do they glare, looking as lost as humans often did when they fell Underground. "I'm flattered."

When they do show their anger, it conflicts with a frown and watery eyes -- far different from their usual self. Even when they'd become frustrated confronting Alphys and Undyne about their lives underground, they hadn't shown sorrow like this one. It's distant and concerning enough for him to want to back away from his frequent teasing.

(Y/N) takes a step forward, the clicking of their shoes now gone. Then, they lower their gaze and their frown quivers as they try not to let their tears fall. "I…" They hold on to his shoulder, bringing him closer as they do the same. Their eyes narrow and their unknown conflict shows through the wrinkles on their forehead and the subtle pout of their mouth. With how close they are, it wouldn't take much for their lips to brush with his teeth. 

Just as he feels their arm around his waist, they pull back, looking elsewhere as they backtrack on their steps. "...I need to ask you something," they say, still facing away. All of a sudden, their conflict dissipates and anger returns to their posture. They cross their arms, finding strength again. "Can... Can you stay over so we can talk?"

Sans nods, keeping his cool. He tries not to think back too much on how close they just were or how they'd brushed off their sadness like it was nothing, yet it's hard to do. His soul pounds as he holds them back with a 'wait', refraining from physical contact. "You doin' alright, (Y/N)?" he asks, holding back a breath. "We can still talk about yesterday, if you wanna. Maybe we can't go anywhere with the weather right now, but I can make us that dinner I promised you last time."

Their lips form a firm line as they consider his offer.

Seconds later, a smile shows on their face. They then look down at their phone, checking the time. "Sounds good." They grin, a stifled laugh following it. "Now go change, Sans. We can't keep this up if you get sick!"

[First] | [Previous] | [Next]

• • •

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[keelywolfe]

FIC: A Glitch in the Thought Process (standalone, lemon)

Summary: This, Stretch knew, was a horrible idea. But even bad ideas can have the best results.

Tags:  Spicyhoney, Lemon Goodness, Fluff, Humor, First Times

Notes:  A short standalone smutty spicyhoney story for y'all, with an extra helping of bad ideas. But hey, even bad ideas can have the best results.

Read it on AO3

or

Read it here!

~~*~~

This was a horrible idea.

A horrible, awful idea. Terrible, no good, awful, dig out a thesaurus and go to town because it was so bad—

“oh!” Stretch whimpered, trying to muffle it with both his hands as Edge nuzzled at his pubic symphysis, his breath teasingly hot. A terrible idea, because his bro was downstairs, with Red and Sans and Papyrus, all of them gathered for what was supposed to be a little party. For their seven-month anniversary of meeting, according to Papyrus, and yeah, it was always fun to hang out at the Tale brothers house, movies and madness, that wasn’t a bad way to spend an evening.

Only, when the food started coming out, somehow Stretch ended up with a lapful of ‘whore devours’ as Red called them. He still wasn’t quite sure if it was the food or the plate that caused the mini-explosion, just that he was glad he only got hit by the edible part of the shrapnel.

Edge was supposedly helping him clean up, even offering to let Stretch borrow the pair of pants he kept in his inventory, and that was all. If Stretch could manage to squeeze his pelvis into the ass clamps that Edge liked to wear, anyway. Took a shimmy and a prayer, but he got them on, fly zipped and all. That should’ve been it, a couple minutes to clean out the nooks and crannies and they should’ve been back downstairs waiting to see what kind of damage dinner was gonna cause.

Only, when he finished struggling with the zipper, he’d glanced up, caught sight of Edge in the mirror and the look in Edge’s eye lights kinda took Stretch off-guard. Like glowing coals in the darkness of his sockets and when he licked his teeth, the bright crimson of his tongue against ivory pale, Stretch was already giving in, raise that white flag, captain, his self-control was calling for a surrender.

His fault, really. Probably Stretch should have thought it through a little before dropping trou right in front of Edge, all things considered. They’d been on a couple of dates now, all of them ending with lingering kisses and heavy breathing, but not much else, aside from some seriously wet dreams. Now they were in the Tale brother’s bathroom together, alone, and Edge was looking at him like he was gonna skip the appetizers and head right for the main course.

Edge was wearing dark fingerless gloves, the slender whiteness of his phalanges exposed, and he met Stretch's gaze in the mirror as he reached out with a single long finger to trace the broad curve of Stretch’s iliac crest peeking over that tight waistband, teasing the sensitive bone.

That was it, that one touch, and how that ended up with Edge on his knees in front of him, eager hands pushing his stained shirt up, Stretch didn’t know. He couldn’t think, couldn’t move, and there was a palm resting flat against his rib cage, body-warmed leather against the sleek bones there and Stretch was quivering before Edge even had those damned pants open again, his magic already forming a cock, the shaft hard and eager for whatever Edge wanted to give him.

Stretch watched as Edge leaned in, sockets closed as he breathed in deeply, mouth open as if to taste the air between them. Stupidly, Stretch blurted out, “sorry, i probably stink, there was enough garlic in those things to give dracula a migraine from two streets away.”

“I don’t care,” Edge murmured, and he leaned in again, let the tip of Stretch’s cock brush his cheek bone and leave a pale orange smear of wetness behind, holy fuck, “and you don’t. you smell like you.”

“what do i smell like?” Stretch whispered. Lavender, maybe, from the soap Blue always bought, or sweat, he’d showered that morning but that was hours ago, the bitterness of his cigarettes, the sweet taint of his own magic…?

Edge’s grin was a slash of sharp white teeth, his voice the satisfied rumble of an old tom cat lapping up a dish of fresh cream as he said, “Delicious.”

Fuck.

Hot breath was a bare touch against the delicate bones of his pubis, ticklishly gusting along with the barest scrape of his teeth as Edge whispered, "Hold still."

And Stretch had to cram a hand against his mouth, holding it there with the other as he bit down on a bony knuckle. He hadn't known what to expect, tried not to consider what it might be like. He hadn’t jerked off thinking about it, even though he’d wanted, fuck, he wanted. But he sure as fuck hadn't thought Edge would be experienced.

And he was, had to be, no fumbling touches or uncertain flicks of tongue. Edge took his shaft in deeply, swallowed him down with only the faintest graze of sharp teeth drawing out a tantalizing shiver rather than a muttered protest. Stretch bit his finger harder, muffling the throaty cry that tried to escape as Edge sucked him, cheek bones hollowing as he drew Stretch into the hot wetness of his mouth.

The hands on his pelvis shifted, fingers spreading wider and Stretch dimly realized it was to hold him down even as he unconsciously strained against them, trying to push in deeper still. With a sharp breath through his nasal cavity, Stretch managed to relax back, sagging against the wall. He nearly moaned aloud as Edge hummed his approval, the vibration rumbling through his cock and straight up his spine. Oh, all the blessed days, there were times in the past when he’d thought sex might be the end of him, but he'd never dreamed it might happen like this. Standing here with harsh fluorescent lights overhead, reflecting off the gleaming white porcelain as Edge moaned eagerly while sucking him off.

With an effort, Stretch managed to pry his sockets open, squinting down and his struggle had its reward. Crimson eye lights, half-hidden by heavy lids met his own and Stretch could not be mesmerized by that gaze. Not when confronted with the sight of Edge's mouth stretched around his dick, long, flexible tongue curled around the shaft. He stared helplessly as Edge took him down in a deep, wet suck, watched the length of his cock slide between those teeth in a deliberate rhythm.

Cool air made him wince as he was abruptly released, but the automatic protest was cut off mid-whine and Stretch watched, sockets achingly wide as Edge playfully licked at the tip, tongue dipping beneath foreskin to tease, and he could never have imagined, not in the filthiest of never-confessed dreams. Another flick of tongue, lapping at the honeyed fluid jewel beading at the tip and wetting Edge's teeth, and then he was taken again. Deep into his formed throat, the hot, lovely slickness of Edge's mouth surrounding him, the curve of his tongue against the underside and Stretch had to close his sockets, had to concentrate on muffling the sounds that were being driven out of him because he could not, could not, be heard. If the others heard, the others would come looking and if they came looking, the others would see and Edge would stop, he would, and Stretch bit his own tongue hard enough to taste the sweet blurt of his magic because he couldn't, could not stop—

The problem with keeping quiet was Stretch had no way to offer a warning, nothing past a sharp, quick inhale as he shook and trembled and toppled over the peak into the exquisite pleasure that Edge's mouth was offering him. Dimly, he felt Edge startle, and then Stretch could feel nothing but the sweet pulse of coming over that soft tongue, any guilt fluttering off on pleasure-soaked wings along with whatever was left of his dignity, and oh, by all the little heavens, he could feel Edge swallowing around him, the quick flickers of tongue against him as every thick droplet was lapped up.

If his knees were truly as weak as they felt, then the only thing keeping Stretch from sagging to the ground was the hands on his hips, holding him firmly up. Between that and the wall, Stretch managed to keep his feet, offering only a soft whimper as Edge finally released him, offering a last tender kiss before tucking Stretch’s softening cock back into his too-tight pants even as he licked his come-smeared teeth clean.

Holy flying monkey fuck, Stretch needed a cigarette. Maybe a little nicotine would slow down his scattered wits enough for him to pick them up again.

It was only when Edge looked up at him again, a sly smile curving his still-damp mouth, that Stretch managed to find words, husking them out around his bitten tongue as he admitted, "so…uh…i don’t think i can walk right now. fuck, i'm trying to remember how to breathe."

Edge's grin widened, "And yet you’re still not at a loss for words. That would have been high praise, indeed."

"only because i can talk without permission from my brain," Stretch mumbled, wetting his teeth with a nervous flick of his tongue, "might have to gag me if you want me speechless."

A rough chuckle sent a gust of warm breath to caress his pelvis where his sweatshirt was still riding up around Edge’s hands curved around his pelvis. Those hands shifted, petting gently, "I’d be happy to accept that invitation."

"invi—" Stretch began and only then realized just what he'd said, "hey, wait a min—ute!" The word was bitten off as those supporting hands abandoned him and he promptly slid down the wall, straight into the lap of the skeleton who’d been kneeling at his feet. "erm, hello?" Stretch added, inanely, and again his brain abandoned him, left him staring dumbly straight on at Edge when only a moment ago he'd been looking down.

"Hello," Edge's voice carried that simple word, just a tiny, foolish greeting into a deep rumble that sent a shiver through Stretch and honestly, was he so easy that a single word seduced him?

Yeah, he decided, as Edge's mouth covered his own in an oddly tender kiss, stealing away any other idiocy that might try to escape. Yeah, he was pretty damned seduced, by the too-hot press of Edge's faintly swollen tongue against his own, by the sweet taste of his own come carried with it, by the heavy groan that was muffled between them, the kiss shifting from tender to eager.

Stretch supposed he could forgive himself for that much. He figured most people would be seduced by any one of those things, never mind them all mixed together.

With a mouth over his own, any sounds that might bubble up and out were effectively blocked and Stretch gave into a long-held wistful urge, cupping Edge’s head in his palms, running shaky fingers over his skull as if he could read the future there.

Even if he’d been a fortune teller, the only fate that interested him just now was how the night was gonna end, and the firm shaft he could feel straining against the front of Edge’s own too-tight pants told him more than any little bumps under his fingertips.

"we…we should…" Stretch began, a touch breathlessly, struggling for words between kisses. They should go somewhere else, somewhere that every little sound couldn't be heard and known and teased about later. They could hardly manage more in a damned bathroom and—

"bro?"

From through the door and both of them froze, Stretch's scream of frustration never made it past his mind. That was certainly a voice he knew and had it been Sans or Papyrus or Blue or any other damned person sneaking in from the streets of Snowdin, he would have suggested a hasty shortcut. But this name was Wednesday’s child full of woe, ‘cause Red was not one who would give up a search, not when it came to his brother.

From the low, vicious curse Edge let out, he was thinking the same thing and he pushed Stretch hastily to his feet, the both of them fumbling to straighten their clothes. If Edge gave Stretch's crotch a quick brush off with rough fingers, then Stretch's hasty scrub of his sleeve over Edge's mouth was probably more acceptable than leaving any stray smears of honey-orange behind.

They were both more or less presentable when heavy boots gave the door a pointed kick and Stretch snapped off the overhead light, hoping that the dimness would hide anything they missed as the knob slowly turned.

"there you are," Red grunted as he shouldered through the door, "why the fuck are you two lurkin’ in the dark? trying to roll for backstabbin’?"

“think that’s more your skill tree,” Stretch said, relieved to hear he sounded mostly normal, and he really hoped Red left it at that, ‘cause the real reason they were hiding in dark corners would probably get them at least a years’ worth of ribbing. Possibly literally.

"Did you need something?" Edge asked impatiently, teeth gritted and at least his annoyance was a decent disguise.

"yeah, blue’s kickin’ up a fuss about servin’ up the main course. told ‘im i’d find ya," Red shrugged, oblivious to the smoldering heat in Edge's glare. "i'd tell ‘em yer both alive and kickin’, but they might wanna look-see themselves if ya don't come on down.”

Edge heaved a sigh and rubbed the bridge of his nasal cavity with his thumb and forefinger, "Very well, tell them I—"

"oh, there's ain’t no hurry, little brother," Red interrupted. His jacket creaked as he crossed his arms over his chest, leaning against the wall. "i'll just wait for the two of ya to finish your chat and we can head back together, the three of us."

Yeaaaah, that was a knowing look, wasn't it. Stretch looked very firmly at the ground, ignoring the high heat rising in his cheek bones. He risked a glance up and found Edge and Red engaged in a very impressive, silent contest of glaring and wriggling brow bones, with Edge's fury ever hotter and Red's equally unimpressed.

A loud sigh from Edge was his only clue as to who finally triumphed, and Edge's hand was gentle at the small of Stretch’s spine as he gathered him up.

"Come on," he grumbled, casting a last angry look Red’s way. The shorter skeleton offered a sharp grin in return, gold tooth flashing, and the three of them started walking back downstairs, following the merry sound of laughter, and if Edge’s stride was a little stiff, Stretch really hoped they attributed it to those pants.

"next time, ya might wanna wait to sneak off after dinner," Red murmured, "they’ll miss ya less, just save some room for dessert.”

“Thank you ever so much for the advice," Edge ground out and if glares and sharp words could wound, Red might collapse to dust right at their feet.

“couldn't have gone back without ya, bro,” Red offered calmly. "if it’s gonna piss ya off, don’t give me a reason to come lookin’ again.”

"we won't," Stretch said, softly, and both brothers paused, eyeing him, though Red's look was considering and Edge's bordered on stricken. "i mean, we'll…be more careful. next time."

"good to hear," Red said heartily, and matched it with a slap on the ass that nearly sent Stretch sprawling and earned him a low growl from Edge. "now, let’s get back before your bro comes lookin’. brothers can get kinda protective when they ain’t sure what their bro is getting up ta.”

"You would know," Edge sniped and only got a chuckle for his spite.

A horrible idea, Stretch sighed mentally as he followed them, pasting on what he hoped was an innocent smile for his brother, or, lacking that, at least a sheepishly apologetic one. A terrible, no-good very bad idea.

Yeah. He really couldn’t wait to see what other ideas Edge came up with.

-finis-

[purewhitepages]

Desert Heat Chapter 2

Chapter 1

Summary: First day on the dig and Claire is already feeling the heat

A/N: Thanks so much for the support on the last chapter. In case you’re out of the loop, I’ve started a side-blog specifically for fics to try and make them more visible among all my shit postings (hence why the previous fic is on my main blog). I’m also slowly figuring out how moodboards work. You’d think I was new to this site with how bad I am at everything.

Useful Info: “Petrie” refers to Flinders Petrie, one of the most famous and prolific Egyptologists ever. The poem is borrowed (with love) from Crocodile on the Sandbank by Elizabeth Peters. It’s one of my favorite books and partially inspired this fic. 

It was always necessary for the company to rise early while on digs in order to get as much work done before the noon sun stifled and shriveled them up. It was necessary, but that did not mean Claire did not resent it. She tried to suppress yet another yawn as she worked to delicately unearth the stone under her.

Her dreams the night before had been hot, though she could not remember any details beyond the burning sensation in her chest and belly, as well as waking up in a sweat. She tried to brush it off as nerves and the heat. Even in the dead of winter, the Egyptian sun was unforgiving.

For now she tried to focus on the task at hand and the sound of the diggers, whose work was supervised by John across the site. Lamb’s notes had proposed that there should be some sort of cellar--albeit crude--below the main level of the house. He had posited the entrance to be along the south-side of the building, where John and the diggers were currently working. Meanwhile, she and Fergus were carefully examining the rest of the building, even if just to see how much of Lamb’s notes had been correct.

“Milady, you need to stop looking over at the other camp,” Fergus warned as Claire yet again pulled her attention away from the other workers less than 100 yards away. She needed to get a grip and get over it, the choice had been made.

“I’m sorry, Fergus.” The words felt heavy on her tongue. The choice had been made, yes, but had she even considered the others around her? Fergus and John? Should they not have such an honor in this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity? She had never been good at making decisions outside of her medical kit. Those choices were easy: this leg is broken, set it; this child needs medicine, give it to her; this man is dying, save him. But when people’s way of life and reputations were on the line? The choice should never be up to her. 

Fergus seemed unaware of her internal struggle. “Don’t worry about it, and try not to think of them. We have much to do here.” He was squatting in the dust next to what Lamb had posited to be the easternmost wall of the structure.

She nodded and crouched down beside him. Fergus flourished the brush in his right hand expertly, using his left, false hand to steady himself on the ground. Claire had never been quite sure how it had happened, and Fergus had never spoken of it directly, but she could guess. She’d heard of the punishment for stealing in more of the unsavory parts of Cairo. If the rumors were true, Fergus was lucky to still have one good hand left.

They broke for lunch soon enough and took refuge in John’s tent.

“No scrapes for you to tend to yet, eh Beauchamp?” John asked with a smile as he handed her a glass of whisky less than a finger-full. “To breaking ground?”

She raised her glass and nodded, taking a sip. John sat at his desk next to the cot where he slept, his back to Claire who sat in a chair across the tent.

“How’s the papyrus coming along?” Claire asked.

“Hmm?” John asked, clearly distracted. “Oh, it’s coming along. Slowly.” John’s voice sounded far away.

During the war, John had met a man named Hector Dalrymple who had, in John’s words, “inspired him” to study antiquities. He had died the year before John had been hired by Lamb. John had taken up the work, translating the papyrus Hector had picked up in Luxor before the war. It had mostly been love poetry. It had been a little more than a monthly ritual for Claire to find him drunk off his arse and crying over the ancient scraps of paper. She was not so naive to assume that these antics were brought on by scholarly frustration, but if John didn’t want to talk about it, she wouldn’t push it. She just carefully laid the papers into a drawer, put the glasses away, and led John to bed, forcing him to drink some water before tucking him in.

It had been quite a change for their roles to be reversed in the past few months. Though, John had never punched her in the nose while she tried to wrestle him into bed. And it was in that moment--looking at him from across the tent--that Claire realized she and John were both fulfilling the dreams of their dead loved ones.

Quite the pair we make, she thought to herself as she sipped her drink.

Despite it only being the first day of the new season, Claire’s thoughts drifted to the next year and the one after that, if only abstractly. If not for Lamb’s extensive notes, she would have been at a loss for where to dig this season. What about next year? The Antiquities Department had made it very clear that if no major finding was discovered at the Behribu site, it would most certainly be closed from further excavations. Lamb himself had scoffed at this notion.

“It’s all stuff and nonsense, my dear. What does St. Germaine care where I decide to play in the dirt?” He had said. But it had been easy for Lamb to say that, he had acclaim and connections to the British Museum as well as the Egyptian Antiquities Department. They had allowed her this one year in memory of him, but what of next year? Would she even be able to secure a site?

Or, more accurately, would John be able to secure a site and let Claire tag along. What if John didn’t want to go next year? Surely he would be able to move onto anything now that his mentor had died. Fergus too. She felt lost, quite literally, in the middle of the desert, with only the faintest hope for water behind the next sand dune.

A throat cleared and she looked up to see a young woman standing at the tent flap. She wore a button-up dress belted at the waist with trousers beneath and brown boots. A large straw hat with a brim sheltered her face from the hot sun.

“Excuse me,” she said. “But I’m lookin’ for a Miss Beauchamp, are ye she?”

It seemed almost comical to even ask, as they were the only European women most likely within 100 miles. 

“You must be Miss MacKimmie, you may call me Claire, please. Come in and close the tent flap behind you.”

The young woman eyed the other two adults carefully and stepped in. John had looked up when she came in, but had returned to his work. It was unlike him to be so unsociable, but Claire assumed he was onto something with his papyrus. Lamb often got into similar moods, sometimes even for days on end.

“That’s John Grey over there,” Claire explained as she produced a chair for the young lady to sit on. “You must excuse him for shunting himself in the corner thus, he is in the middle of unearthing the dead.”

John snorted at her from his place in the corner but otherwise did not respond.

“What can I do for you, Miss MacKimmie? We were just about to have lunch, Fergus should be back any moment now with it, will you eat with us?”

The young woman colored at her words and shook her head. “Ye needn’t trouble yerself, I just- well-” She wrung her hands. “Mr. Fraser was kind enough to say I could come to you if I needed help and-”

“Do you need medical attention then? My kit is in my tent but I could-”

“No, please, I just needed to get away from the other camp is all. And, well, there isna much else to go, is there?”

Claire nodded but quirked an eyebrow. “What is it about the other camp that you need to get away?”

She blushed and looked down. “The men,” she said bluntly. “Not all of them, mind ye. Mr. Fraser is very kind to me, he’s my cousin, ye see. But-”

“But he cannot always be around to guard and guide you?” Claire finished, all too aware of what some men could be like on digs. She wasn’t sure if it was the sun or the low proximity to civilization that caused men to lose all sense of propriety and manners, but it had always been a problem too big to correct.

She nodded demurely.

“Well, I don’t see a problem with letting you take refuge here for now. It’s only us three and the diggers in our little camp.”

Just then Fergus returned, laden with plates for the three of them. Miss MacKimmie shot up to her feet like a lightning bolt when he entered. Claire stared at her and then back to Fergus.

“Ah, I was not aware we had a guest.” He placed the plates on the table where Claire and Miss MacKimmie sat, and brushed his hand on the front of his pants before offering his hand. “Fergus Beauchamp, at your service, madame.” She noticed Fergus moved his left arm behind his back.

Miss MacKimmie seemed incapable of speech so Claire stepped in.

“Fergus, this is Miss Marsali MacKimmie, she’s the illustrator for the other camp. She’s come here to get away from unsavory male company.”

“Not that I find all male company to be unwelcome!” Miss MacKimmie seemed to have found her voice quite suddenly. “Just- some.”

Fergus nodded good naturedly. “I will go get another plate, you may have mine. Please, do not wait on my account.”

As he exited, Miss MacKimmie fell back into her chair. Claire happily began to dig into her food, eyeing the young woman.

“I’ve always found an accent to be quite attractive in a man, if you don’t mind me saying Miss MacKimmie, now that it’s just us girls.”

The young woman’s eyes trailed over to John at her words, but Claire kept talking. “My first love was a Belgian lad when I was twelve. Something about that French accent. What do you think, Miss MacKimmie?”

“Oh leave the poor girl alone,” John called, teasingly. “Some of us have not grown as hardhearted and cynical as you.”

“Are you going to eat with us or are you going to continue to moon over ancient love poems?”

“I don’t moon, and I’ll be there in a second.”

The tent flap rustled and a deep voice cleared their throat. Claire glanced up and then straightened up at the site.

“Marsali, what the devil do ye think ye’re doing here?” Mr. Fraser growled, casting a glance at the women seated at the table, to John at the desk, and finally to the two cots lined up across the tent. “It isna proper for ye to be in a man’s tent. Even with- another woman.” His voice faltered.

She hadn’t even considered the propriety of Miss MacKimmie’s presence--or even her own--in what was essentially John and Fergus’s room. Perhaps she was too quick to judge men’s actions in the middle of the desert.

“You must forgive us, Mr. Fraser,” Claire finally said. “We do not have a common area tent and prefer to eat together out of the hot sun.”

His gaze fell on Claire. “Then ye must set up an umbrella or awning for an eating area.”

“Jesus H. Roosevelt, quite the big spender, what do you say John? Should we buy food next time or an umbrella big enough for the three of us to eat under?”

John grunted and Claire rolled her eyes.

“While you’re here, Mr. Fraser, would you be so kind as to lend your linguistic abilities to our man John so he can eat before going back under the hot sun, Doctor’s orders.”

Mr. Fraser seemed like he was about to protest before she mentioned linguistics. “What does he require help with?”

John glared at her. “A number of years ago I acquired some papyrus. There is no rhyme or reason for the various hieroglyphics between them. I have a hunch they were looted from various tombs before they finally ended up in my hands.”

“Well, I’d be delighted to take a look if ye’d like.”

“It really isn’t necessary, Mr. Fraser-”

“Mr. Grey, it would be my pleasure.”

John seemed at a loss for words and nodded. “Alright, I must admit a few of the cartouches are a bit out of the ordinary.”

Mr. Fraser smirked good-heartedly and nodded. “Allow me to lend my expertise, but later, if ye wouldn’t mind. Perhaps at suppertime? I have a few volumes I could bring with me, Petrie and the like. For now, we must be goin’. Come, Marsali, Dougal was lookin’ for ye.”

Miss MacKimmie exchanged a glance with Claire before standing and walking over to her cousin.

“Good day to you both,” Mr Fraser bid them as they left.

Claire jumped up and went to the tent flap, lifting it up.

“Mr. Fraser!”

He turned back, the heat seemingly making the air around him waver. His tan skin gleamed in the sun and his blue eyes seemed all the more striking underneath his hat.

“The invitation for supper extends to both you and Miss MacKimmie. We shall expect you both after the work is done, here, in this tent.”

He glanced at the young woman beside him and nodded before turning away to the other camp.

Claire stared at the two men hunched over the bits of ancient paper, eyes peering across the rim of her glass of whisky. She had tried to engage in conversation with Fergus and Miss MacKimmie, but had soon realized that they were not inclined in doing anything beyond polite comments about the weather and stealing glances at one another. She had noticed the young woman’s eyes lingering on Fergus’s left arm, but if she was at all disturbed by the false appendage, she made no mention of it. Between them and the scholars in the corner, Claire found herself quite alone.

She soon got up and crossed the room, peering over John’s shoulder at the work.

“Any progress?” She asked. 

“See for yourself,” John said, handing his open journal over his shoulder to her, his finger marking the spot.

Claire read over the lines and nodded. “It’s very...well, perilous, wouldn’t you say?”

“Read it out loud, if it pleases ye.” Mr. Fraser turned back to look at her, leaning back against the desk. “Poetry deserves to be read out loud, does it no’?”

Claire smiled and nodded. She took a step back, dramatically and held the book out as if she was preparing to read a dramatic monologue from Hamlet.

“The love of my beloved is on yonder side

A width of water is between us

And a crocodile waiteth on the sandbank.”

Mr. Fraser’s eyes did not leave Claire as she spoke, the glass of watered down whisky at his lips to hide a small smirk. She glanced back up at him over the book, his eyes washing over her and causing her stomach to churn. She wondered to herself whether his was the gaze of the beloved or the crocodile? And which one would she have feared more.

John threw back the rest of his drink and held out his hand for his notebook, breaking the spell. She handed it back to him.

“Do you think that’s the first time that poem has been read out loud since the time of the Pharaohs?” Fergus asked from across the room.

“What an honor it is then, to be here when it is,” Miss MacKimmie answered him.

“Quite the sentiment,” John’s voice sounded far away.

“What do you think, Miss Beauchamp?” Mr. Fraser asked.

She shrugged her shoulders. “Well, our modern interpretation is quite different from what the ancient one would be.”

He quirked an eyebrow. “Aye?”

She nodded. “Yes, the crocodile on the sandbank seems to us to make it the tale of ‘forbidden, star-crossed lovers,’ trope. Most would mention Romeo and Juliet.”

“But ye’d beg to differ?” The mirth did not leave his eyes. 

“The Ancient Egyptians, would beg to differ, Mr. Fraser. The crocodile is meant to show the strength of the man, it is implied he will triumph over the beast and is therefore stronger than a crocodile.”

“As ye say.” Mr. Fraser placed his glass on the desk and crossed his arms over his chest.

Claire narrowed her eyes at him. “What? Do you have a different interpretation?”

He shrugged. “It isna in my mind to infer what the words of a long dead man may or may not mean. I merely make the knowledge accessible and let the intellectuals rabble about it.”

John scoffed. “And do you not consider yourself to be an intellectual?”

He smirked. “All I mind is the connection, ye ken? To the man. We often think ourselves so mighty and civilized compared to the ancients. But to see these words and in them the reflections of emotions we too experience.” His words were emphatic, passionate. He looked up at Claire, the strength of his words reflected in the depths of his eyes. “Do we not feel the same yearning to be with the ones we love?”

It was getting late and the two Scots bid goodnight to their companions. Claire walked out with them on the way to her tent. Mr. Fraser eyed her as she dropped the tent flap behind her.

“Ye dinna need to see us out, we ken the way right enough,” he told her.

“I’m glad you think that. I’m not seeing you out, I’m going to my tent.”

His eyebrows raised for a moment before he schooled his features. “Aye, as ye say.” It was hard to tell in the dim light, but she swore she could see some color staining his face as well.

“What, did you think I shared one with Mr. Grey?”

He made a noise in the back of his throat with an eye at Miss MacKimmie, who was doing her best to look like she wasn’t eavesdropping. “I have no right to pass judgement on strangers.”

She scoffed. “It is true that we may ignore certain rules of propriety out here in the middle of nowhere, but a body has a right to privacy, don’t you agree?”

“Aye, I do.”

“And not all of us are so desperate for company of the opposite sex. It takes a great deal more than cheap whisky and ancient scraps of paper.”

The smile that so often graced his features when they spoke returned. As did the heat in her stomach that made her delirious with déjà vu. “I’ll keep that in mind, Miss Beauchamp.” His eyes sparkled in the low light of the stars overhead.

She all but ran into her tent and closed the flap behind her.

Chapter 3

[shyneanon]

okay, okay, second time givng a prompt :

*US! Papy and a studying reader*

a friend of mine thinks about this for a long time now XD

Ahhhhh, I see. You’re asking for a friend. Sure.

I’m kidding. This was a really fun prompt, although I guess I changed it to US! Paps and a trying-to-study Reader. I hope you (and your friend) enjoy!

---

“Wow,” was all Papyrus could say as he turned the massive textbook over in his hands. “You’re going to go through all of this?”

You nodded. “Yep. And the first test is Monday.”

“Welp. RIP in pieces.”

He handed you the massive calculus book back and you flopped down on his couch. You’d mentioned the book to him already, but he hadn’t seen it. You’d decided not to take a photo-- he’d needed to see this in person. It was several inches thick.

There was no point in putting it off, you supposed. The test was Monday, and it was the first test. You had no idea what to expect. So you propped yourself up, leaning back against a small pillow, and started to read through the first section the class had gone through. You had already forgotten all of it.

You instantly started to fall asleep.

“What are you doing?”

“Huh? Sorry. I’m trying to study.” You lowered the book a bit to find that Papyrus was now sitting on the couch, leaning back. He raised a brow.

“Study?”

“Yeah.”

He gave you a mock glare, squinting. “You come into my house…”

“Apartment,” you corrected, albeit with a smile.

“C’mon,” he said, “don’t study here.”

“I have to.”

“OK, then let me help.”

You raised an eyebrow.

“Wow,” he said, feigning offense. “OK then. Cool to see that you trust me so much.”

“OK,” you said, “you can help.” You looked at the book. “I’m not sure how, though, considering this is math. It isn’t really about memorizing facts.”

He thought a moment. “Mm… Are there new math terms or something? We could start like it’s vocab. Cuz like, what if they ask you to find something and you don’t even know what it is?”

That made sense. “Sure, we can start with that.” You flipped until you found a list of terms and handed them to Paps. “Give me the definitions first.”

“That’s easier though.”

“Yeah, I’m being lazy.” You smiled. “Like you.”

“Studying isn’t lazy,” he argued before giving you another smile. “But you’re trying, so I’m proud of you.”

You smiled. Dork.

He looked at the book, then made a point of clearing his throat.

Oh no.

“What,” he said, in a British accent, with a high-pitched voice that made him sound like an old woman, “is a function that gives the slope of a--”

You snorted and laughed a little. “Paps, stop.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, still in that ridiculous voice.

“I can’t focus if you’re making dumb voices!”

“Young lady, I will have you know that my voice is quite beautiful, and I do not take your insult lightly.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose, still grinning. “Just give me the book back if you’re not actually gonna help me.”

His voice returning to normal, he said, “Nah, I don’t think I’m gonna do that.”

He stood up, and so did you. “Hey,” you said, “give me my book back.”

“Nope,” he said, heading for his kitchen. Oh no, what was he doing? You followed after him, but when you tried to grab at the book he just held it high above your head, far higher than you could reach. If you hadn’t already known that he wasn’t ticklish, you would have attempted to weaponize that, but that attempt would be all for naught.

When you arrived, he immediately started putting the book on top of the high cabinets. No, not in the cabinets. On top of them, in that space between them and the ceiling. He didn’t even need a stool for it, he was so tall. “No!” you cried. “I need that! I paid for that book!”

“Relax, you’ll get it back later.”

“But the test is Monday!”

“Yeah, and right now it’s Friday afternoon.”

“That’s only a few days.” You put your hands on your hips. “This is why I didn’t trust you to help me.”

“But you changed your mind.” He grinned smugly, raising his brows. “Your mistake.”

You pouted at him.

“Now you just look like my brother when he’s disappointed in me.”

The pout turned into a smile. That didn’t really surprise you; there was a reason that Sans liked the two of you hanging out so much.

“C’mon, let’s order pizza and watch a movie.”

You needed to be studying.

But that does sound nice…. And I am hungry….

Before you knew it the two of you were on the couch again, this time eating pizza and watching a cheesy rom-com instead of studying, like you were supposed to….

“Watch this,” he said. “He’s going to tell her that he likes her because she’s literally the only woman who’s ever rejected him.”

Sure enough, the love interest said, “You are the only girl who doesn’t fall at my feet.”

“Narcissist alert,” you said, raising your eyebrows.

“I know, right? It’s frustrating.”

“How often do you watch these kinds of movies?”

“Um… I have the right to remain silent.”

You laughed, then realized something. “OK,” you said, “wait.”

“Yeah?”

“So if that’s why he likes her, then once she kisses him, or has sex with him, or whatever… isn’t that it? Like congrats, you got your conquest in. Right?”

“... Huh. I never thought of that. Good point. I always assumed it was that he likes the girl’s stubbornness?” He winked at you. “He’d probably like you, Ms. I-Have-To-Put-Your-Math-Book-In-An-Unreachable-Spot-To-Get-You-To-Hang-Out-With-Me.” He paused, then said, “That was a mouthful.”

“Well, I will pass,” you said. “He seems like a jerk.”

“Wow, girls like guys who are nice? Who knew?”

You laughed, then smiled at him. “I’m surprised you don’t have a lot of girls after you. You’re really nice, and you’re fun.” Seriously, he was… great boyfriend material…. You coughed a little.

“Well, even if I did, there’s only one girl I’m really interested in.”

Whaaaat? “Ooooooh?” you said, looking over at him with a grin. “You like someone? Who?”

He just looked back at you, raising a brow.

Your face got very hot very fast.

“Wait,” you said quietly, “m… me?”

You saw his face turn orange. “Yup.” He made small jazz hands. “Surpriiiise.”

A giggle escaped you, and he grinned.

“Are you really surprised? I thought it was obvious.”

You shrugged. “I just… wouldn’t expect you to like me.”

He blinked, his smile faltering. “What? Why not?”

“I dunno, I’m not super chill all the time, like you.”

“Well yeah….” He grinned again. “But I’m not sure if dating someone as lazy as me would be a good idea. I like that we’re different.”

Your face got hotter at the mention of dating. What he was saying did make sense. “I like it too.”

He didn’t say anything. Not sure what else to do, you avoided eye contact. You didn’t want to look stupid. Did this mean you were dating now? He hadn’t asked. But neither had you. Should you ask? But then if he thought you were that might seem dumb. And if he didn’t think you were, it would be a weird way of--

You started as you felt his teeth tentatively pressing against your lips. Not wanting him to think your flinch was a negative response, you quickly kissed back-- albeit a bit harder than necessary.

He chuckled, looking surprised and amused. “Wow, I didn’t expect you to get that excited.”

You shoved him lightly, smiling. This time, when he brushed some hair out of your face and cupped your cheek, you leaned in with him so that your lips met in the middle. You hummed softly, and so did he. Testing the waters, you started to wrap your arms around him, and he responded by returning the gesture. You lay your head on his ribcage.

“Welp,” he said, “this was a way better reaction than I was expecting.”

“Did you expect me to slap you or something?”

“No, I was just worried I was gonna make things weird between us. Like you were gonna be like ‘Whaaat no you’re like a brother to me but we can still be friends, but now I feel super weird.’” He shrugged. “Sometimes I think me being chill has an adverse effect. Makes me seem like a sibling or something.”

You snorted. “Says the guy with the sibling who’s always worrying about him.”

“Y’know, that’s a good point.” You could hear the grin in his voice.

Then you felt his teeth press against the top of your head and blushed.

“So,” he said, “are we… are we dating now, or…?”

You snickered. “I was wondering the same thing, to be honest.”

He laughed a little.

Right, you still hadn’t answered.

“Um… I’d say yes.”

“Cool,” he said. “I say yes too.”

Both of you snorted.

“Man,” he said, “we’re dorks.”

“We are,” you agreed.

“You’re a cute dork though.”

Hah… Your face was warm now. “You’re cute too.” You looked up at him and pretended not to notice his blush. “Y’know, I would still be mad at you about you taking my book, but… now we’re dating, so I’m not annoyed at you anymore.”

“Nice, I bailed myself out.”

You giggled again, and he gave you another kiss, this time on the cheek.

“C’mon. Let’s take a nap together.”

Together. You felt warm and fuzzy inside.

“OK,” you said.

[heartandsoulcomic]

By Any Other Name

This is a short story I wrote in the Heart and SOUL Undertale AU. It takes place a few months before Sarafina was born. While the events are canon to Heart and SOUL, there is no need to read it to understand the story of the comic. Basically, this is just something I wanted to do :)

_____________________________________

“i still like ‘tori junior’,” Sans said with a grin.

“If you will not consider Sans Junior, I will certainly not consider Toriel Junior, you lazybones,” Toriel answered with a smile of her own, and they both started laughing.

Sans and Toriel sat up in their bed, surrounded by a dozen books opened to various pages. It was late, but neither of them felt like sleeping yet, and they were both starting to get a little silly. Sans reached for another of the baby name books Frisk had gotten for them from the library that afternoon, still chuckling.

“well, back to the books then… unless…” San glanced up at his wife, hesitating. He’d been avoiding asking this for weeks now. “you wanna name the kid after your parents?”

Toriel groaned, putting one hand over her eyes, and the other over her distended belly. “No… ‘old-fashioned’ does not even begin to describe their names… I do not wish to burden our poor child with them.” Toriel dropped the hand over her face to rest next to the one on her stomach, smiling down at them. “The baby is coming into a new world, and I would like to give them a name that welcomes them to it.”

“Although…” Sans froze, a page half-turned in his hand as Toriel continued, “We could name them for your parents, if you wish.” Sans fought to keep his eyes-lights from blanking out. Damn. THIS was why he’d been avoiding talking about baby names for far too long. He didn’t want to think about him…

Tilting his face away from her, Sans shook his head slightly. “naw. that’s okay tori. i'm good with somethin’ new.” He tried to sound casual, but his voice was rough. Sans felt Toriel place a hand over his, and looked back at her, her face full of gentle concern.

“You never really speak of them… ” Her expression turned thoughtful. “Nor does Papyrus…”

Sans looked away again. Toriel rarely pushed him about things like this, but it was clear she was giving him a chance to talk, if he wanted. He didn’t, not really, but he should give her enough so she wouldn’t keep wondering about his past, and the things in it he told to no one.

Sans shrugged a shoulder, still looking away. “paps doesn’t remember pop.” you don’t either, he thought. no one does. “i don’t really think about him much.” Only when he would see the sad specter back in the Underground, only every day for years as he tried and failed to find a way to pull his father back into reality, and now these days only when he had nightmares.

Toriel spoke softly “Was he unkind to you and Papyrus?”

Sans almost smiled. Unkind. It asked more than that simple word conveyed. “no, nothin’ like that,” you used to know him. you used to call him a friend. “it was just hard goin’ after he was gone.” Toriel squeezed his hand sympathetically. He knew she thought he meant after Gaster had died. Some days Sans wished, guiltily, that he had. Maybe it would have been better that way.  

“I am sorry, darling. Of course we do not have to use his name.”

“yeah… probably best not to…” Sans caught himself up short, and he snorted a laugh as something occurred to him. “hell, pop didn’t even go by his first name anyway – thought it was ridiculous. ‘wing dings.’ heh.” Sans laughed, tears in his eyes. An actual, honest-to-God, happy reaction to a memory of Gaster. Who’d have thought?

“Wing Dings..? Oh! I had forgotten!” For one wild moment Sans thought the name had triggered an old, stolen memory in Toriel. But no. No. It didn’t work like that. Sans’ amusement melted back into old, familiar pain as she continued. “Skeletons have a traditional naming system for their children, do they not?” Sans breathed a small sigh, and shoved the thoughts of Gaster to the back of his mind, telling himself he was glad to be past the topic of his father.

Sans rubbed a hand over his skull. “well, it’s traditional to give font names to skeleton kids, yeah, but usually not until after they’ve started talkin’…” he let out another snort, smiling again. “i think we’d drive frisk nuts if we waited that long to name the kid. they’ve got a thing about callin’ people by their correct names.”

Toriel covered a smile with one hand as her eyes danced with amusement over the piles of baby-name books her adopted human child had brought them. “Yes, I do believe you are right about that,” she murmured in reply, suppressing a laugh.

Sans shrugged. “an’ anyway, we don’t know what the kid is yet – more like me or more like you.”

“True,” Toriel sighed. “Alphys still could not get a clear picture with the ultrasound.” There was disappointment in her voice. She had tried more than a dozen times over the past few months to get a sonogram picture of the baby, but it never worked. Alphys had told them there was some sort of free-form magic causing interference with the machinery – the baby had probably inherited Toriel’s Boss Monster status. Or it could be something from Sans’ side of the family. He hadn’t talked to Alphys about that possibility. He hoped he never had to.

“aw, i'm sorry tori.” He knew how much she had wanted to see their child. “it’s easier with skeletons, i guess. you can just see the baby growing. none of that fa –”

“Watch it mister.” Toriel interrupted sharply, but with a smile.

Sans held his hands up defensively “fur – i was gonna say fur – in the way.”

Toriel ran a hand idly over her belly. “That sounds amazing,” she said wistfully.

“or like a cronenberg horror show, take yer pick.” Sans grinned as Toriel let out a surprised bark of laughter. He’d never get tired of that sound.

Sans scooped the neglected book back up, and resumed flipping to random pages. “’course no way to see ‘em means no way to tell if it’s a boy or a girl. do you wanna pick a name for each? or i guess we could go gender neutral... or say ‘screw it’ and just use what we like – ”

“I hope it is a girl.” The sudden change in Toriel’s tone, the deep grief etched in such a simple statement had Sans snapping his attention back to her in shock. She was still smiling, but her eyes were bright with unshed tears, and her hands folded neatly over her swollen stomach were trembling.

She turned that calm, heart-wrenching look toward Sans. “Perhaps it is selfish of me… but it would not feel so much like I was trying to replace him…”

“tori…” in a flash of understanding, Sans realized that he hadn’t been the only one to put off finding a name for the baby.

Sans quickly pulled himself up onto his knees so he could reach Toriel easily, and he took her face in his hands. “tori, you’re… you’re not replacing asriel…” he floundered, his mind casting around desperately for the right thing to say.

Toriel leaned her forehead against his, closing her eyes. “I know Sans. My head knows.” She exhaled slowly, a long, tired sigh that brushed softly over his face, his neck. Sans felt her hot tears coursing over his hands. “But my heart… oh, it tells me something else.”

Sans leaned back. “that ain’t your heart, tori,” he said firmly, gently wiping her tears away. “your heart would never tell ya it didn’t have room for everyone you love; it’s too big for that.” She smiled faintly, and leaned into his hand, covering it with her own. Sans anxiety grew as another moment of insight hit him. Oh, God. Why hadn’t he thought of this before? “it’s not just that, is it? you’re afraid… ”

Toriel opened her eyes, but she looked through him, her haunted gaze focused on the distant past. “I failed them, Sans. I failed my children the worst possible way a mother can.” Her voice broke as it dropped to a near whisper “What if I fail again?”

Sans spoke slowly, feeling his way carefully forward. “tori, i know… i wasn’t there… but… what happened… it wasn’t your fault.” Toriel bowed her head, and her shoulders shook. “an’ i know you’ve been told that before, and your head knows it’s true.”  Sans reached his free hand forward, placing it over her heart. “i wish i knew how to convince the rest of ya.” He let his hand drop to hers, and clasped it, trying to mirror the quiet comfort she had given to him just minutes before.

Toriel pulled him into an embrace, and he settled into it, his back to her chest, her arms wrapped around him and her chin resting on his head. He felt one or two more tears splash onto his skull. Sans leaned into her, careful not to put any of his weight on her belly.  He could play teddy bear for her, no problem. They sat like that for a while, Sans stroking the soft fur of her arms draped over him.

When Toriel’s breathing was steady again, Sans continued carefully, trying to move back to safer ground. “and it’s like you said tori; the baby’s comin’ to a new world. they’ve got a bright future ahead of ‘em… they’re gonna grow up under the sky, the sun ‘an stars…” Sans trailed off, thinking. “actually, i think i saw somethin’…” He disentangled himself from her embrace slightly, and picked up the discarded book. Flipping through the pages, he settled back again, and, to his relief, felt Toriel lean in to look over his shoulder.

“here it is. this.” He pointed to name in the book.

“Sarafina? That means ‘female angel’, yes?” Toriel asked, sounding uncertain.

Sans shook his head. “nah, wrong spellin’. according to the book it’s swahili, means ‘bright star.’”

Toriel blinked, then smiled, “Oh… I like that. ‘Bright star’… yes… that is what they are. Not a replacement, not a second chance… but their own, bright, beautiful self.”

Sans smiled up at her. “yeah, i like it too.”

Toriel’s smile faded. “I love the name, but it is very feminine. What if it is a boy?”

Sans thought about that for a second, then sighed melodramatically. “well, everything ya said still applies, but i guess we don’t want ‘a boy named sue’ situation…” he put on a slightly exasperated look and let resignation color his voice “so we’ll call ‘em sans junior.”

Her answering laugh was fragile, but genuine.  Toriel leaned down and kissed Sans as he grinned. “It is a deal.”

[nascent-chaos]

Aaahhh I really really love OPAtS!!! ╰(*´ ︶ `*)╯♡ It’s such a good story, and the skeles are great, and the reader is great, and I just really like it! You’ve done such a good job so far, I’m so proud of you, and I’m sure your other readers are, too~ ٩( 'ω' )و Hopefully that isn’t weird. Regardless, I’m curious- What are each of the skeles thoughts on the reader, as of now- Are any actually in love or is it just a crush? Thank you for writing again, I hope you’re doing well!!!

Uaaaah!!!  ♡  ♡  ♡ Ty so much!!! ;w; With this being my first fanfic ever written, I’m always nervous about what you guys think of the story and its characters. Hearing things like this always brightens up my day sooooooo much!  ♡

As for what the guys think of Reader by the end of Chapter 19? :3 There’s a wide range of opinions about her throughout the Lodge. 

Sans :: Does Sans like the reader? Of course he does. She’s smart, witty, talented, has a great sense of humor, and gets along great with his brother. Plus, she even laughs at his lame jokes. What’s not to like? She’s a sweet kid, one he just happens to be very protective over given her history. As the one who extended the offer to stay with them, he feels it’s his duty to look out for her. End of story.

At least, that’s what he tells himself. He doesn’t quite realize how hard he’s fallen for her. Sans stands back and watches from a distance as she interacts with the others in the lodge and can’t help but feel a bit jealous at the bonds she’s starting to form with the others, even if he doesn’t realize it’s jealousy. He wants to keep her safe and secure, to give her a reason to have hope again even if he himself hasn’t been able to find such a thing yet. His feelings for her extend beyond that of a crush, but how far? He’s not entirely sure.

Papyrus :: Of course Papyrus loves her!!! He sees Reader as a kindred spirit, bright and cheery and curious like him, even if she’s a good deal more reserved than he is. The two of them quickly became the best of friends in the days following her arrival at the lodge. He’s just sad he hadn’t met her again sooner! He might not know as much about her history as Red or Hickory, but when it comes down to personality Papyrus knows her as only a best friend could.

.. Ooh. You meant romantically?

He’d never really even thought about how he might see her in that light until very recently, likely because of the way he’d fallen into the role of mother hen as he helped Green take care of her during her recovery. Following the incident with Dust near the strawberry patch, however, Papyrus realized just how terrified the thought of losing her makes him. She is indeed someone very precious to him and he cares for her dearly… maybe even as more than just a friend? He’s not sure, but he’s starting to take a closer look at the time they spend together and how she makes him feel: when he’s around her in the mornings watching as she pours her heart and soul into the meals she cooks for everyone; the lively conversations that the two of them can carry on for hours when he asks her to listen to another ingenious puzzle design he’s thought up; those quiet moments they have when taking care of the flower beds in the garden side by side and how happy he is just having her there.

Maybe he really is starting to see her as more than just a friend.

Red :: For all his lewd jokes perverted humor, Red’s does care deeply for our Reader. Like Sans, Red tends to be a bit overprotective of her as a result of his feelings - maybe not to the extent Sans is (he knows full she can take care of herself), but he won’t hesitate to step in from time to time if he feels she’s getting in over her head. He knows she’s a fighter deep down and that excites him to no end. Sure, she’s taken a few hard hits and is having a bit of a hard time getting on her feet again, but hey! Even the best struggle from time to time.

She’s like a breath of fresh air to him, her kindness and compassion a big change from the way people had treated him in his Universe, but she has a bit of a sharp side he finds attractive as well. Is it love? He’s not sure, but even if it was… he highly doubts it’d ever blossom into anything more than a one-sided fantasy. After all, he doubts he’s lucky enough for anybody to love such a fuck-up like him, much less someone as amazing as her…

Edge :: At first Edge wasn’t entirely sure what to make of our Reader. She had the potential to be quite the spit-fire when she chose - he’d seen it himself the first time he’d met her and he’ll admit he’d found it quite attractive - and so finds her usual quiet and kind-natured demeanor to be something of an annoyance. He thoroughly enjoys tormenting her, pitting his cunning against her own time and time against to see who’ll come out on top. What had initially been done as just a way to get his kicks, however, has recently grown into something more for him.

He does honestly think she has the hots for him - not only because he often misinterprets her kindness toward him as blatant displays of affection, but because he knows he has grown to become something of her secret-keeper alongside his fellow Fells (take that, Ashtray!). While he’d sooner die than openly admit to it at the moment, he has truly come to enjoy her company outside of their usual bickering and snide insults to one another. Yes, he is quite fond of her at this point and perhaps has grown a bit possessive of her as a result.

Now if only the damn woman wasn’t so stubborn!

Stretch :: It’s clear to most of the others in the lodge that Stretch has a bit of a crush on our Reader. Which would mean he’s done a pretty good job in hiding how he really feels because it’s more than just a simple crush.

At this point, this skeleton is honestly head-over-heals in l o v e, and he knows it. He just doesn’t quite know how to tell Reader though - what if she doesn’t feel the same way? D: He’s terrified he might risk ruining his friendship with her. And then there’s the machine to think about. He does want to return to his own timeline, sure, but… doing that means he’d never get to see her again. And even if there is another version of Reader in his own Universe, it would never be the same. He knows he could never compare some variant to her. At the moment he’s wondering if he should bother continuing to offer his expertise on the project at all - maybe it really would be better to just stay in this Universe - especially after that kiss!

Blue :: Blue feels as if he’s known the Reader almost as long as Stretch has, given his brother’s habit of frequently mentioning her back before the fire. She and him grew to become quick friends during her recovery, so just imagine how thrilled he was when he found out she had agreed to move in with them!!! And she’s the best housemate he could have dreamed of; she’s intelligent and sweet, pretty and patient, and a great cook to boot!

But… for all his sweetness and apparent innocence, Blue is far from a fool - he can see just how much his brother pines for her affections and, in all honestly, Blue kind of does as well. Maybe not to the extent Stretch does, but he does occasionally find himself wondering if she might ever someday come to look at him with that same sort of love and affection in her eyes. His attempts to show her how much he cares for her, however, seem have all fallen short thus far, having been mistaken as acts of friendship rather than possible tokens of affection. But that’s okay!!! The Magnificent Blueberry isn’t one to back down from a challenge!! Mweheheheh!

Black :: The Malevolent Blackberry, have feelings for that human?! HAA! Be grateful he’s not demanding your head for even considering such a thing! He’d never allow himself to fall for anyone like that, much less someone like her!

…

Okay. So maybe that’s not entirely true. But like hell if he’ll ever openly admit to holding any manner of affection for her. He does indeed have something of a crush on her, a fact that both surprises and concerns him. To him, our Reader is a mystery wrapped in an enigma, whose gentle and soft-spoken exterior belies a bold and authoritative interior he doesn’t get to see often yet finds himself drawn to nonetheless. He enjoys putting her in situations that bring that familiar fire of determination to her eyes and loves to see her get riled up, occasionally even at his own expense. But be that as it may, Black simply isn’t the sort to come out and profess his affections to her - why bother, when he can be as manipulative as he is? He’ll play the scene to make it appear she’s the one vying for his affections - and he may feel sorry enough for her that he’d allow her to hang on his arm from time to time!

Hickory :: Mutt’s feelings for the Reader are probably the most complicated of the lodge boys. She’s really not what he’d consider his type, and yet… he’s drawn to her regardless. He finds her presence comforting, her voice soothing his well-hidden anxieties and her touch calming and reassuring him more than he’d have thought possible. She’s sharp as a tack and takes his teasing and jokes with an easygoing sense of humor he finds refreshing. He lives to fluster her - and why not, when she looks so great with that blush he could practically devour her?

 Like the others able to hear the song emanating from her soul he wants to be able to give it a reason to sing its melody with joy and happiness - beautiful as he finds it now, Hickory’s pretty sure it would be nothing short of a drug when performed as it was meant to be. So… maybe he does have a crush on the Reader. But he’ll continue to hide it. After all, it’s obvious to him how much his brother likes her too, and he’d sooner put aside his own feelings for her so his brother can be happy. Even if doing so does slowly eat away at him…

Dust :: When it comes to the Reader this Sans finds himself at odds with his own soul. She wasn’t wrong when she noted his inability to trust anyone, and that includes her as well. But like she toward him, there seems to be something of a dissonance between his soul and his mind. He wouldn’t go as far as to call it a crush - he certainly doesn’t fawn over her the way the other skeletons around him do, but he doesn’t hate her either. He might actually go as far as to say he enjoys her company when its the two of them, the song radiating from her soul helping to sooth the itch that would otherwise leave him feeling on edge and hostile.

[ariespageofbreath]

Monster Summer Mash: Naps and Lazy Days

Fourth entry!! Tbh these will all probably be either art or reader inserts lol. Anyways, once again, could be platonic or not, up to you, reader is gender neutral, and it's with Swapfell Papy (you decide which version lol)! 

Edit: Fixed the paragraphing issues lol. Dunno why that was a problem in the first place.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>> 

 Summer has always been your lazy season. The warmth of the sun makes you slow and lethargic, content to lounge around your hours sleeping or relaxing. You get more days off, so you can stay up as late as you want without repercussions, or just binge-watch whatever show holds your fancy. 

 And even though most of your human and monster friends are notorious busy-bodies and athletes, you’re a well-known couch potato. So your friends understand when you turn down a day at the beach, or to go to the movies, or-ugh-running. This year, you’re staying in more than usual. This whole year has been astonishingly stressful, and you wanted a nice, long break to recuperate. 

So you wanted to spend most of your time at home, doing little things to make you happy and pass the time. You feel bad turning down your friends so often, but you know you wouldn't be able to enjoy it as much right now. 

 Or maybe that's just your excuse. Who knows. 

You’re in the middle of binge-watching yet another series on Netflix, eating potato chips on the couch, when your phone goes off. You grunt, scrambling up to pause your show and grab your phone. You don’t bother to check the caller ID before answering. “Y’ello?”

 “knock knock,” comes the raspy tenor of your best friend, Papyrus. 

 You snort, completely forgetting that he can’t see your eye roll from the other side of the phone. Still, you decide to humor him, drily replying, “Who’s there?”

 Someone rings your doorbell, briefly distracting you until he chuckles. “me.”

 Paling, you glance down at yourself. Thanks to a malfunctioning AC and too-hot weather, you’ve been chilling in a tank top and a pair of underwear in the dark all day. You’re also sweaty and you’ve got crumbs of food littering your body. Cringe. “Uh, hold that thought, buddy, I gotta go make myself presentable.”

 “psh. you know i don’t care about that,” he states, unaware of you rushing into your bedroom.

 It’s true, he’s the chillest dude you know, and of all your friends, he’s the least likely to judge you for your current state. But still! “Yeah, well I do. Go ahead and come in, I’m taking a quick shower. You know where the food and stuff is.”

 “thanks doll.” There’s a weird noise, presumably him teleporting into your living room. You hear him snort. “wow, you weren’t kidding. have you even moved at all this week?” 

 Betrayal! You trusted him not to judge you! Scowling, you huff, “Speak for yourself, kettle. If it weren’t for Sans, you’d never get up at all.” You collect a towel and a change of clothes from your bed, heading to the attached bathroom. “Make fun of my life choices later, I’m hanging up now.” 

 Despite your threat, you still wait long enough for him to chuckle and return the farewell before you hang up with a smile. You duck into the bathroom, taking the shortest, coldest shower possible while still getting clean. You might linger just a little longer to enjoy the cold before climbing out again. You get dressed just as quickly, leaving the towel around your shoulders to catch the water. 

 When you emerge into your living room, you find that he’s taken over your couch and your TV. You snort when you see what’s on. Traipsing over, you lean on the back of the couch to smirk down at his sprawled form. “Horror movies, Goldie? Aren’t you a little young?” 

 “older than you, whippersnapper,” he drawls, barely shifting to look up at you. The sharp gold of his canines catch the light as he raises a brow bone at you challengingly. “what’s’a matter, sweetheart? afraid of the boogeyman?” He makes a point of leering at you threateningly. 

 “Please. The boogeyman is sitting on my couch, and I’ve seen him cry like a baby when he’s drunk. I’ve stopped being afraid of him. His older brother’s the one who spooks me,” you tease, reaching out to flick his forehead. 

 He swats you away, pretending to be offended even as he smiles. He places one hand dramatically on his sternum. “really? You’re more afraid of sans than me?” When you nod, grinning, he drops the act, crossing his hands behind his head. “good call. have you seen his workout plan?” Cue dramatic shiver. 

 You chuckle, shaking you head at his antics. “No kidding.” You reach down again to swat at his knee. “Move over, Mr. Boogeyman, you’re hogging the couch.”

 For a moment, it seems like he’s actually considering it, but then his familiar smug smirk is back. He stretches his already-too-long legs farther, sinking lower into the couch. “nah. think i like it the way i am.” 

 “I will sit on you,” you threaten, though it isn’t really much of a threat. Not only is he stronger than you, he has magic, so if he wanted you to move, you’d move.

 He was also evil and knew all your ticklish spots, but you digress. 

 Papyrus simply continues to smirk, once again raising his brow bone. You shrug, giving him a “you asked for it” look. Without further ado, you clamber over the couch, landing directly on him. He lets out a little grunt, reaching up to stabilize you. You half-expect him to make some stupid remark about sitting on his lap, but he simply grins at you like this was his plan all along. 

 Actually, when you think about it, it probably was. 

 You don’t have time to ponder. Keeping one sharp hand on your back, Papyrus uses the other to fish the remote off the ground and restart the movie. You lean back, getting comfortable on his semi-rigid body, and you settled into an easy silence. Occasionally, you’ll feel his hand twitch, thumb rubbing your back.

 The movie is boring and predictable, an old number you’ve seen a ton of times, so you pass the time making fun of how bad it is. Some of the jumpscares still get you, however, and Papyrus won’t stop mocking you for it.

 Somehow, it turns into a horror movie marathon. You’re half-way through a second one-one you’ve never seen, but Papyrus has-when the hand on your back sides up to your shoulder, lightly tugging on you. You give him a curious look, so he pauses the movie to speak to you. “mind layin’ down, doll? Pressure’s kinda gettin’ to my ribs.”

 “Oh, yeah, sorry,” you agree without pause, shifting as carefully as you can so you’re on your side in front of him, back to his chest. Papyrus drapes his arm over your side, curling slightly to pull you closer. “That better?” you murmur, and are rewarded with a quiet grumble. 

Snorting, you take control of the remote and unpause the movie. For a while you’re both quite again, watching the action play out. His fingers graze your stomach occasionally, just firm enough so it doesn’t tickle. Despite it still being hot out, you don’t feel too warm-he’s the perfectly cool temperature.

 It’s not until the sixth movie, as you’re beginning to doze off, that Papyrus speaks up in a quiet voice. “missed doin’ this, doll. you ain’t been around lately.”

 You bite your lip, guilt settling in. Papyrus has been a constant source of comfort and support this whole year, and yet so far you’d practically ditched him. You stare at the carpet, frowning. “I’m sorry, Paps. I’ve been kind of a crap friend lately. I just wanted some time to myself to just… recharge, you know? I really should have hung out with you guys more.”

 “that’s not what i’m sayin’, sweetheart,” he chuckled, sitting up slightly and leaning over to make eye contact. His sockets are soft. “there’s nothin’ wrong with takin’ time off to relax. take all the time in the world, i ain’t goin’ anywhere.” He gave you a little squeeze, suddenly looking a little nervous. “y’know we don’t, uh, have to go anywhere, right? t’hang out? if you’re feelin’ a little drained, y’know, we can always just chill here or at my place, doin’ what we’re doin’. i jus’... heh, sounds a ittle selfish, but i uh. i miss seein’ ya.” 

 You can’t help but laugh a little, touched. Count on Papyrus to be so understanding but bashful. You reach up, gently touching his cheekbone to give him an honest smile. “Thanks, Papy. i’d love to do this more often. I miss you too, Mr. Boogeyman.” 

 He snorts affectionately, relaxing again. “glad m’ not the only one. jus’ remember that i care about ya’, an’ i wanna see you be happy, okay?” You nod, and he smirks, back to his normal self. “great. now enough of this mushy crap, let’s get back to blood’n’guts.” 

 You chortle, sinking back into his hold. He presses his face into your neck, not even bothering to pretend to watch the movie, and within moments he’s snoring. Though you leave the TV on, it doesn’t take you long to follow him. 

 Outside, birds are singing, flowers are blooming, and on days like these, lazybones like you… Are happily napping with their best friends.

[raccoonsinqueen]

My Little Princess

♚ MobFell Papyrus X Reader, it’s gonna be straight up textbook Yandere with a little Tsundere if you’re picking up what I’m throwing out that window.

♚ You befriend a tall, edgy, rich skeleton. Everything is great... Until he starts getting pushy. Now bad things are happening to you, and you don’t know why. Why is this happening? Will trusting him make it better? 

♚ So I was reading some headcanons from @skelltales and there was THIS GEM. I loved it so much, I had to write it out.

♚ It’s prolly only gonna be 2 parts.

♚ Just like how Mobtale!Papyrus is more mature than Papyrus, Mobfell!Papyrus is more mature than Underfell!Papyrus.

You thought Papyrus was nice. You had thought he was nice.

The first time you met him, you were almost petrified. He was tall, unworldly tall, but you came to learn that alot of monsters were like that when you moved to this city. His features were sharp, his teeth in a constant state of scowling, and his eyelights completely diminished. He was dressed nicely, very nicely, and all black. You had imagined that he must’ve been some kind of suave businessman or lawyer.

You were wrong.

If you remembered correctly, the first time you met him he was looking for something, his gloves you think. That was the only time you had ever seen him without his gloves, and they seemed to hold great sentimental value to him. When you had asked to help, he ignored you completely, not even noticing your presence. Out of sheer defiance, you went searching with him, and you remember his eyesockets glancing toward you briefly, but nothing more after that. Finally, you found them underneath a table, out of sight for the tall skeleton, and you presented them to him with the brightest smile.

“Tada!” You presented the lovely red gloves to this ginormous skeleton. Surprisingly, they were the only splash of color added to his void, black outfit. “Were these what you were looking for?

“... MY...” He took them, the look of shock he adorned only feeding your pride. “... GLOVES.”

“They’re very lovely.” You smiled as he tugged them on, as if checking to see if they fit.

“YES, THEY ARE.” He replied, his voice filled with a strange wonderment, before he turned back to you. “I SUPPOSE I SHOULD...”

You leaned closer, a smug smile on your face, “Yes?”

“...TCH, NEVERMIND.” He turned around.

“What?” You complained, rushing in front of him. “No! Don’t tell me I worked so hard not even to get a thank you!”

“YOU’LL GET A THANK YOU WHEN YOU DESERVE ONE, LITTLE HUMAN GIRL.” He brushed passed you, but you weren’t willing to let him go so quickly.

You rushed back in front of him, your hands behind your back. “First, I’m an adult, so ‘little human girl’ isn’t going to work. Second-”

Before you could finish, you saw him demonstrate the difference between your height and his height with his gloved hands, a smirk displayed across his otherwise emotionless features. “LITTLE HUMAN GIRL.”

You ignored the way that annoyed you. “SECOND, what would I need to do to deserve a thank you if not even finding your gloves for you would do it?”

The monster held his chin in thought over this, before beginning to pull something out. It was a card. He handed it to you. “COFFEE.”

“What?” You took it with confusion.

“I WILL NOT GIVE YOU A THANK YOU, BUT I WILL GIVE YOU COFFEE. CALL ME TOMORROW MORNING WHEN YOU ARE READY. IT DOES NOT MATTER WHAT TIME.”

“... What?”

And that was how you two grew closer, him buying you coffee every once in awhile and you doing little things to get a reaction out of him. It came to the point that you became such good friends that he bought you coffee every morning. At first, you insisted that you pay for it at least some of the time, but he flat out refused you and could easily push you aside to pay for himself.

You felt bad, until he drove up in his beautiful black car that could put the finest sports cars of Europe to shame. And you had to walk to work!

You were a waitress. A small and simple job, but it payed the bills when people tipped well. The people were nice, your boss —albeit a little creepy— was bearable, and you loved being able to chat with customers that would come in. When Papyrus found out where you worked, he had urged you to quit your job to find a better paying one, or at least one where your boss kept his eyes to himself.

“STOP WORKING FOR THAT PERVERTED INGRATE, IT DOESN’T PAY A TENTH OF WHAT IT’S WORTH TO HAVE HIM EYEING YOU ALL DAY LONG.” His voice was cold as ice, a complete contrast to your hot coffee he bought you

“Tim?” You laughed, “He’s fine, he would never actually do anything. He’s just a little too lonely, that’s all.”

“THINKING IT IS THE FIRST STEP, Y/N!”

“Aw, Papyrus, are you worried about me?” You giggled.

“I MEAN IT.” Papyrus growled, “QUIT.”

“I’m not going to quit.” You said calmly, having dealt with his spiky personality all too much before. “I love working there. The people are kind, the pay is just enough, and I even get free lunch! If I’m happy, what should it matter the small hiccups?”

“...” Papyrus looked to the side, uncomfortably. “...NICE PEOPLE, GOOD PAY, AND FREE FOOD COULD BE AT OTHER JOBS...”

You almost laughed again, but kept it to yourself. You tugged Papyrus down and planted a kiss on his cheekbone. “I think it’s sweet that you worry so much for me.”

His normally cool expression flushed a light pinkish tone. “I DON’T-”

This time, you did laugh. “Right, right, don’t care for a little human girl... Oh! I’m gonna be late to work!” You checked your watch, “I’ll catch you later, Papyrus!”

After that, he dropped it.

Or, you thought he did.

A couple weeks later, you found your boss had lost his life fighting against a burglar. It was an independently run establishment and all the money was stolen, so that meant your work had shut down. You were broken hearted about it, but Papyrus took you out to dinner to cheer up your spirits. You thought it had been a nice gesture at the time. Despite his cold appearance, you believed he was a kind and compassionate guy underneath, even if only a little bit.

“Thank you... Papyrus.” You smiled as you poked at your lasagna. He took you out to a rather nice restaurant... it might even had been five stars. You even had to dress up nicely. Luckily, Papyrus gave you the clothes you needed, considering you didn’t own anything appropriate enough for this place. It may have been overly fancy, but he said he had an in with the owner... “I can’t tell you how much this means to me.”

“DON’T THINK A SECOND MORE OF IT.” Papyrus replied, calmly, before you noticed his eyesockets cast themselves to the floor. “YOU... LOOK NICE IN WHAT I GAVE YOU.”

“Nice is an understatement, Papyrus!” You laughed when he jumped at your positive tone. “I look gorgeous! Who knew you had such impeccable taste!”

“O-OF COURSE I HAVE IMPECCABLE TASTE-!” Papyrus cleared his throat, as if realizing his growing volume. “YOU SHOULD HAVE LEFT ME IN CHARGE OF YOUR APPEARANCE AGES AGO.”

“Haha, very funny.” You rolled your eyes, before taking a bite of your dish. “Where’d you even get this anyway? Girlfriend had it lying around?”

“I DON’T HAVE A GIRLFRIEND.”

“...Boyfriend-?”

“I BOUGHT IT.” He interrupted, seemingly irritated. “WHEN YOU CAME TO ME WITH YOUR DAMSEL IN DISTRESS PROBLEMS, I KNEW YOU NEEDED MY ASSISTANCE, BUT I ALSO KNEW YOU COULDN’T COME HERE IN YOUR RAGS YOU CALL CLOTHES. SINCE I HAD ALREADY MADE THE RESERVATION, I DECIDED TO PICK SOMETHING THAT WOULD FIT THE AMBIENCE.”

You dropped your fork. “You... bought this for me?”

“YES, OF COURSE.” He said it like it was obvious. “I DIDN’T JUST HAVE SOMETHING THAT PERFECTLY TAILORED LYING AROUND.”

Oh geez, and it was tailored! Wait, how did he know your measurements? One question at a time... “How much was it?”

“UNIMPORTANT.”

“No, Papyrus.” You stood up, “How much was it?”

“...” He seemed to notice your distress, before he said, “MORE THAN ANYTHING YOU COULD EVER AFFORD.”

“You have to take it back!” You rushed to his side, “I can’t accept this! It’s too much! Plus the dinner and and-!”

“Y/N.” His voice washed over you like ice. “CALM DOWN. YOU’RE PANICKING.”

“Papyrus, I love you, I really do,” Papyrus twitched ever so slightly, but you ignored it. “But I just can’t accept gifts like these... I feel... guilty.”

“DON’T.” He commanded. “YOU WERE UPSET OVER SOMETHING. I FIXED IT. THIS IS NOTHING TO FEEL GUILTY OVER.”

“But it’s so much-!”

“TO YOU, IT IS SO MUCH. YOU’RE POOR.” You let out a short, tense laugh at that. “BUT TO ME, IT IS LIKE... BUYING A CUP OF COFFEE. YOU WOULD BUY YOUR FRIEND A CUP OF COFFEE IF IT MEANT CHEERING THEM UP?”

“I suppose...” You looked to the side. “But-”

“THE DRESS IS UNRETURNABLE, AND YOU’VE ALREADY RECEIVED YOUR FOOD. REFUSING THEM NOW WOULD BE A SPAT TO THE FACE. YOU WOULDN’T WANT TO REFUSE A FRIEND WHO IS JUST TRYING TO HELP YOU NOW, WOULD YOU?”

Drat... He was right. You looked down, embarrassment creeping into your features. “Y-You’re right, I’m sorry... I just got so worried about you spending so much money on me. I didn’t mean to upset you or start yelling...”

“GOOD. NOW WHAT DO YOU SAY FOR THE NICE GIFTS?”

“Thank you, Papyrus...”

You felt his gloved hands pet the top of your head, the motion almost comforting. Even sitting down, he was taller than you. “THERE’S MY LITTLE HUMAN GIRL.”

Since when did he consider you his little human-?

“NOW SIT DOWN AND FINISH YOUR LASAGNA. IT’S GETTING COLD.”

You thought he was a little weird in his roundabout way of speaking to you and giving you things that you certainly didn’t ask for, but you just figured it was because of his upbringing or maybe the monster culture. He was very wealthy... but you soon realized that might’ve been because he worked all the time.

When you mentioned job hunting to Papyrus, he advised against it! You were flabbergasted by this, and you told him you had bills to pay and a stomach to feed, but he just told you he’d pay for all those things. Of course, you refused. No matter how much of a close friend you were or how rich he was, you were not making him pay for all of your stuff. That was just too far.

So, you went job hunting... Place after place after place. Nobody seemed to want to hire you. It was strange, but it almost seemed like each place you went to was afraid of something. You ignored it though, and continued job hunting. One place actually came close to hiring you, but then you got a nervous phone call in the middle of the night telling you they were fine with what they had.

Despite all of this, you still refused to take Papyrus’ money. He seemed a little... frustrated by this, but you wouldn’t dare mooch off of him without anything in return.

“YOU STILL REFUSE MY HELP?!” He fumed, standing up and startling the whole cafe around you.

“Papyrus, please!” You tried calming him, putting a gentle hand on his arm.

“YOU’RE BEING UNGRATEFUL.” He hissed, but his animosity was only meant with you rolling your eyes.

“It’s not help if you’re literally paying for my living expenses, without me doing anything in return!”

“THAT DOESN’T MATTER TO ME, YOU KNOW THIS!”

“It may not matter to you, but it matters to me!” You replied, “That’s the kind of thing that only  occurs between husbands and wives, or pets and owners! Not between friends!”

“...” This seemed to sedate him, and he sat down in a huff. “I DON’T SEE THE PROBLEM, STILL.”

“The problem is that I want to be self reliant, and I can’t do that if I’m mooching off of you for the rest of my life!”

“IT’S NOT MOOCHING IF I GIVE IT TO YOU WILLINGLY!” He raised his voice again, “AND YOU DON’T NEED TO BE SELF RELIANT, JUST BE RELIANT ON ME!”

“And if you die?” You crossed your arms, “Or get severely injured?”

“... MY SAVINGS IS MORE THAN ENOUGH TO LAST YOU THROUGH THE REST OF YOUR LIFE.”

“And what if we get in a big fight?” You counter, “Or you get so annoyed with me, that you don’t want to be around me anymore?”

“THEN I’LL SEND YOU AWAY UNTIL YOU APOLOGIZE OR I REGAIN MY SANITY!”

You couldn’t believe your ears! He was actually thinking about keeping you as if you were some kind of-! “I’m not a pet or a child, Papyrus! You can’t just send me away until I submit to your will!”

His hands banged down on the table. “I NEVER SAID THAT!”

“I’m sorry, Papyrus, but I’m going to do this by myself.” You said, finally. “I know you’re just trying to help and you don’t like seeing me in a rut like this, but I have to help myself.”

“I DON’T UNDERSTAND WHY? YOU DON’T NEED TO, NOT WHEN I-!”

“Papyrus. No.”

Finally, Papyrus stood, rage boiling behind his empty eyelights. “FINE. YOU WANT TO THROW MY KINDNESS BACK IN MY FACE? SO BE IT.” And just like that, he was grabbing his stuff.

“Papyrus, I didn’t mean-”

He swiftly turned toward you, leaving you face to face with his empty eyesockets. “CALL ME WHEN YOU ARE READY TO APOLOGIZE, AND DO NOT CALL ME FOR ANY OTHER REASON.”

He turned around with in one swift motion, but you didn’t go after him. You just sighed. He may have been your friend, but you weren’t going to let him bully you into letting him pay for your living expenses.

The next couple weeks were pretty harsh. You didn’t know why, but you just seemed to be way down on your luck. Random cars splashing you with water, your coffee orders getting messed up constantly, random things breaking down in your humble home... no longer had air conditioning! But, sometimes that’s just the way the cookie crumbles.

On the plus side, you had finally found a job! You decided not to tell Papyrus about it, since he was still not talking to you, but maybe once he gets over his need to buy everything for you you could tell him. It was a nice waitressing job, and one you found friends in fairly quickly! The people that worked there were nice, as well as the customers. It was a bit of hard work, but you didn’t care as long as you were making money!

“Y/n, you’re just about the unluckiest person I know!” Lily, your co worker, smiled. “Shoes eaten by dogs again?”

“Ah!” You laughed, sheepishly. “Yeah, It’s been quite the week! Er... Past couple of weeks... But things will get better with time!”

“I’m sure they will!” Lily laughed. “Especially with that tall, dark, and handsome stranger that keeps staring at you.”

Lily winks at you as you turned your head, but you inhale with surprise. There was Papyrus, sitting irate and cold as usual.

“Oh, oh geez!” You whisper harshly.

“Know him?”

“Yeah, he’s a friend but...”

“Ex?”

“No, we just had a fight...” You exhale, before you feel her patting your back.

“You really do have the worst luck!” She laughed again, which you joined her for. “Well, he doesn’t seem to be willing to stop staring... Should I-?”

“No, no. I should handle this like an adult.” You wave her off, “He’s harmless, really.”

“Alright.” She gave you a soft smile, “But if he’s giving you any trouble, I’ll grab the owner.”

“Thanks.” You return her smile, before making your way to your boney friend. He straightened as you approached him, and you put your hands on your hips. “Hey, bonehead. What’s with the sudden appearance?”

“YOU... GOT A JOB.” He said it with distaste.

“Of course, I got a job. I wasn’t going just lay around until I changed my mind.” You rolled your eyes, “Did you think I wouldn’t get one?”

“...I’m going to have to hire new management...” He muttered, barely under his breath.

“What?”

“NOTHING.” Papyrus waved a gloved hand in a vague gesture to everything. “CONGRATULATIONS, I SUPPOSE, ON ALL THIS. I STILL THINK YOU SHOULD QUIT AND LEAVE YOUR LIVING EXPENSES TO ME.”

“I thought you were going to wait until I apologized?”

“I WAS... BUT YOU PROVED TO BE UNUSUALLY STUBBORN.” He leaned on his elbows. “SO I’VE COME TO RELIEVE YOU OF THE EFFORT IN TRYING TO CALL ME, AND ALLOW YOU TO APOLOGIZE RIGHT NOW.”

You crossed your arms, unamused.

“NOW WOULD BE NICE.” He growled. “I DON’T HAVE A LOT OF TIME.”

“Papyrus, you need to learn how to play nice with your friends.” You turned around. “Otherwise, you’ll never make any more than me.”

“Y/N.” A chill ran down your back as he said your name like that. “DO NOT WALK AWAY FROM ME.”

You spun back around, your voice straining with anger. “Papyrus, you have been nothing but difficult! You demand I quit my job and then try to pay for all my living expenses, and, when I justifiably refuse, you become enraged and demand an apology!���

“. . .” His expression was dark, the kind of expression that has seen many dark things and has caused most of them, too. It would scare you normally, but you were too worked up to notice. “APOLOGIZE. NOW.”

“I’m going back to work.” You turned around in a huff.

He stayed silent and left after that. And things only got worse from there.

Robbers broke into your home. You didn’t know who was running the police force, but nobody was doing their job right. You were devastated. The entire place was trashed. You were lucky you weren’t there, but that still didn’t make it anymore okay. All your valuables were gone, your place was a mess, they even took the already broken air conditioning system!

But as long as you had a roof and a place to work, you were sure you’d be fine. You just needed to keep your spirits up, it wouldn’t be bad for too long...

And things were pretty okay for a bit. Your luck was still iffy, but you managed to get by. You kept making friends, and kept your spirits up. Still no word from Papyrus, but if he was going to be that way, there was no stopping him. You had managed to get little things like a fan and a small radio from your kind coworkers who didn’t need them anymore. It was one of the nicer things, one of those things that kept you going while all this misfortune was happening.

That was... until your new place of work had caught a flame. You wish you could say that nobody was hurt, but there were still people in the building. People you had worked with, served, and it just so happened to be on your day off. You couldn’t help but feel like you were just one big joke to the universe, and they were dumping all of their trash on you at once. It felt unfair.

Finally, you were walking home from a rough night, when you heard something behind you.

You almost froze in terror. There were people behind you. Shady people behind you. You don’t like to judge by appearances, but one was holding a crowbar in their hand.

You kept walking quicker, taking a turn. You walked even faster, taking another turn. Then even faster, taking one more turn. Lo and behold, they were following you.

You started running, as so did they, and you knew you were in trouble. You could feel your heart pound against your chest. You had to get to a telephone booth...

Ah! There was one! You rushed into it after making a sharp turn, hoping the two behind you weren’t too close on your tail.

Suddenly, you realized you didn’t know who to call. You had no family living here, the police didn’t seem to be able to do their job right, and most of your friends were... gone... save for one.

You punched in the number you memorized and waited. It picked up after one ring.

-SOMETHING YOU HAVE TO SAY TO ME?-

You had no time for pride, “I-I’m sorry! I’m so-so sorry! B-but I need you to pick-ck me up, right now! I-I think I’m in trou-ouble.”

Without missing a beat, he replied, -WHERE ARE YOU.-

You told him your location through scattered breaths, amazed he was even able to discern your scrambled speech patterns, before you slammed down the receiver and hid. In remarkable timing, you saw Papyrus’ signature black car pull up. You made a b-line for the car, relief washing over you.

Papyrus came out, and you made no effort to change your speed, ramming into him in a desperate embrace while your voice choked up before you could say a thing. You suppose you were just unloading all of your feeling at once on him. Your house, your bad luck, the fire, and especially being victim to whatever was about to happen a couple minutes before.

You felt Papyrus pet your head softly, saying, “GET INSIDE.”

You only saw a glimpse of it for a second, but as he let you go, you could’ve sworn he was smiling.

You must’ve been mistaken though. Not when he came all this way to help you.

When you entered his car, he took you to his house where you exploded all of your feelings on him. You bursted out into sobs, telling him about your bad luck, your house that was ravaged and trashed until it was almost nothing, and then of the fire that consumed your last hope. Your heart was heavy with grief, and Papyrus listened to it all with a cool demeanor.

“THIS WOULDN’T HAVE HAPPENED IF YOU HAD LISTENED TO ME.” He said.

“W-what?” You sniffed.

“IF YOU HAD DONE AS I ASKED, YOU WOULDN’T HAVE TO WALK TO WORK AND HAVE THOSE UNFORTUNATE THINGS HAPPEN TO YOU, YOU WOULDN’T HAVE A TRASHED HOUSE BECAUSE YOU’D LIVE WITH ME, AND YOU WOULDN’T HAVE GROWN ATTACHED TO THAT JOB ONLY TO HAVE IT BURST INTO FLAMES.”

“Th-That’s awful!” You cried.

“BUT IT’S TRUE.” He said, coldly. “YOU WOULD’VE ONLY SEEN IT ON THE NEWS AS AN INTERESTING PASSING.”

“I-I don’t...” He was right. You hated to admit it, but he was right. “Tha-at doesn’t make it-t any less bad...”

“I DIDN’T SAY IT DID.” He replied. “I JUST SAID YOU WOULDN’T BE SOBBING RIGHT NOW IN MY HOME IF YOU HAD LISTENED TO ME.”

“...” You didn’t want to admit it, but he was pushing you.

“RIGHT?”

“Y-yes...”

“I WANT A PROPER APOLOGY.” He said, clearly. “NOT YOUR FEAR-INDUCED ONE YOU GAVE ME ON THE PHONE, A REAL ONE.”

“W-what?” How... How could he be thinking of that at a moment like this?

“IT’S CLEAR YOU WERE WRONG, SO APOLOGIZE TO ME.” He crossed his arms.

“But I don’t-!”

“WHAT, YOU WANT TO CONTINUE WITH YOUR PETTY SELF RELIANCE?” He replied. “AFTER ALL IT’S CAUSED YOU?”

“It’s not-!”

He interrupted you once more, “Y/N, YOU HAVE NOTHING TO GO BACK TO. YOUR HOME, YOUR JOB, YOUR FRIENDS, THEY’RE ALL GONE. WHY WOULD YOU GO BACK WHEN YOU HAVE ME HERE.”

You stopped. He... was right, again. You did have nothing. What could you even do? Go back to your ruined home and go job searching again, like that worked so great the last time? Perhaps... It was best to go for the easiest option available, and maybe you can find a way to make it right to him.

“Y/N.” His voice was smooth, but deep and dark. Like thick tar. “I AM THE ONLY OPTION YOU HAVE.”

“I...” You thought for a second as you grabbed the end of his jacket. “...I’m sorry. I was wrong. You were right. I should have never gone back job hunting, and should have accepted your help! Please forgive me!”

You felt his cool teeth on your forehead as he pulled you forward.

“M Y   L I T T L E   H U M A N .” For the first time, you saw his eyelights. They were blood red.

[jamestrmtx]

Fairytale Complex - [Undertale | Sans x Reader]

[Gender Neutral, Frisk's Parent Reader | Slow Burn]

Chapter Ten | Dating Fight! (Part 1 of 2)

[First] | [Previous] | [Next]

(Obligatory) Alternate Title: "Ya like jazz?"

• • •

If you told your past self you would be in the monsters' home at midnight, wearing borrowed pajamas and staying the night on their couch, you would've most likely been asked over what the hell you were smoking. 

It's what you assume will be a sleepless night, giving you time to reflect on what's happened so far and what opportunities you'd lost with the blackout. Not only had it interrupted your time with Toriel, but it had brought upon a new piece of information you weren't quite sure what to do with, and that was Sans and him being afraid of thunder. While one side of you wanted to tease him over it, the other -- based on how raw his fear was and how much he seemed to have entrusted his safety on you -- wanted nothing but to try to comfort the monster over the situation. In short, sympathy towards him sounded hard to do without him taking it as the results of his flirting, yet making fun of him made you feel like a jerk.

"Can we talk?"

You look to the voice to see Sans standing by the television, a hand gripping its top for stability. His body language shows exhaustion and nothing more, though you don't let your guard down yet, still wary over any possible flirting attempts. "About the blackout thing, I mean."

The circles under his eye sockets are darker than before, a bit of a strange observation to take in, considering how much he's slept already. If this is what he meant about how he needed Karma for his magic, it made way more sense now. A half-hour trip to Toriel's with him casting a see-through veil over the windshield and another one for him to pick up Papyrus had proven more than enough to drain his magic and all the energy left in him. 

But if that was the case, why did he accept his job as a sentry, if his task was to kill any human who crossed him -- right from the start?

Was he willing to sacrifice himself for the sake of obtaining that soul, and simultaneously, his kinds' freedom?

"Sit with me," you offer, caught in the spur of the moment. "You already sat on my lap, didn't you? Why try to be modest now? I wouldn't have minded that much, if you'd at least taken me to dinner first."

You hear him snort at that, though a hand covers up the noise when he catches just how quiet everything is. "Sorry, (Y/N). I may like flirtin' with you, but physical contact's where I cross the line. And unless you're also comfortable with it, I'm not gonna try anythin' like that." He rubs the back of his skull, looking guilty. "So with that being said, sorry for all that. For, uh, slammin' right into you, huggin' you, and then, well... lettin' me sit on your lap without asking. I wasn't myself back there."

His expression's not far from that of a wounded puppy, and it's only when you pat down at the space left next to you that he reacts, sitting down and facing your gaze. "Did something happen in the past? Were you… in a war or something like that?" PTSD's the first thing to come up into your thoughts, though you're not exactly sure how to approach the topic with him. "You don't have to answer me, if you don't want to."

"Thanks," he says, shoulders kept high as he huffs and faces his lap. "It's... somethin' like that. But like you said, I don't really know how to talk about it yet." He lets out a noise between a chuckle and a nose flare, meeting your gaze again afterwards. "I didn't know just how… how loud thunder was here at the Surface, so when it first happened, I was even more caught off guard by it. Today wasn't that bad, and I already knew what was comin', but I still acted that way."

"Do… Do other people know about this?"

"Only Tori and my bro. They were the ones who saw me in that state the first time."

You bite your lip and let out a sympathetic hiss in response to that, remembering just who'd caught him and you in that position. If Alphys and Undyne really didn't know anything about his fear, then judging by the wide stares they were giving you while the skeleton sat on your lap, their point of view was clearly far different from yours. 

"What's wrong?" he asks, mirth returning to his voice.

"Remember when you sat on my lap?"

His face falls, tone straining with it, "Is remindin' me a way of you gettin' back at me for what I've done?"

You huff and swat his shoulder in a harmless, playful manner despite your narrowed gaze. "I'm being serious here, Sans!" you exclaim, frowning. "Alphys and Undyne... They- They saw us like that, so I was wondering if you knew about it, too."

"What?" he asks, a subtle furrow showing on his skull. "Did they really see us?"

"Yes!" Your response is muffled by you covering your face in shame, face burning at the thought. "If they really don't know about your condition, then they… They probably thought we were hitting it off on the couch!" With how hot your face feels, you're forced to let it go and direct a pointed gaze at Sans, who tries to ease you out with the gesture of his hands and a hush, reminding you to keep your voice low. "They probably think we're dating now!"

"And what's so bad about that?"

"Everything!"

Frustrated by his easygoing self, it takes a minute for you to find some calm, regaining it when you remind yourself over what's more important right now. 

"I don't want either of us to get carried away with that, so I'll just tell you this," you speak up, maintaining a calmer tone and looking at the skeleton right in his irises. You focus your eyes on him, wanting the gravity of the situation to be known. "I… I used to be married, and I waited two whole years of dating just to, well… achieve that dream, only to then have Jerry ditch me the second he couldn't keep up with the responsibility of living and raising a child together." You pause in your words, feeling a few tears form in your eyes, embarrassment and sorrow both weighing the same. "If there's anything I need less of, it's romantic drama! I don't mind you flirting with me, but if any false rumour gets out about us, then I... I simply won't allow this to happen anymore."

You back off and lower your intensity. 

The more you talk, the more you realize this has nothing to do with the skeleton, aside from what transpired with the blackout. 

"What happened earlier was accidental, and I firmly acknowledge that. But if you're going to keep up this flirting charade with me, I'm gonna need to ask for one thing: don't spread false rumours about us." You wipe a tear off your face, looking away when you feel his gaze on your body, burning you. "I… I want to be a good parental figure for Frisk, so if I want that, I really can't be depicted as an easy, airheaded person." You stop and let out a breath, almost shuddering in the process. "I allowed myself to be stupid once, so I can't let it happen again."

You know you're about to confess something really, if not extremely personal, yet you can't prevent yourself from keeping your mouth shut, something about the monster and the quiet of the living room pushing you to be heartfelt with him.

"It was bad enough when he told his friends about how quickly I fell for him -- how it seemed I loved him more than he did with me. And it took me too long to understand what he meant by that when… when his first solution to us not working out the first time was doing a one-hundred and eighty on our relationship without any explanation whatsoever. I was naive and stupid as hell for getting back with him twice after that first fallout, and then deciding to marry him later on, so to this day, I… I still take responsibility for what became of us and our family after that. And that's why I really can't allow myself to… to fall into another relationship just like that. I need to fix this and myself first."

You finish venting with a huff. Then, you form a smile and offer a hand out to the skeleton when you're done. "Think we could both put this day behind us? I won't push further over what happened to you, but I… I expect the same kind of respect and treatment from you."

Sans takes your hand, completing the shake. "Ya really gotta ask, pal?" he says, winking. "Respect's somethin' that should be given right from the start, so long as the other person's showed it, too." He pulls his hand back, meeting with your eyes afterwards. "I may like teasin' and flirtin' around with you, but I still hold respect for who you are as a person, just as I hold respect for how mad attractive you look in your work uniform."

Truthfully, his last sentence catches you off guard with how nonchalant he is, and you almost pass off his words as nothing. But when you do catch onto the comment he made over that particular aspect of you, you stand up, towering over him with your hands on your hips and a scowl. "Good-night," you bark, teeth gritted.

"Wait."

Just as you turn to leave, he tugs at the end of your pajamas' sleeve and grabs your attention with the call of your name. A muffled, jazzy tune followed by yelling and fighting can be heard from the television, now on. "Watch somethin' with me," Sans says, serious. "I know ya ain't sleepy yet, and that you chose to sleep on the couch, so don't leave."

You don't budge; rather, you sigh and keep your back turned to him. "Unnecessary comment leads to a necessary need to retreat."

"C'mon," he pleads, letting go of your sleeve. "I won't make any more of those 'til the sun rises."

"...Promise?"

"Promise."

You finally face him again, though all while keeping a neutral look as you sit down next to him. The television displays a black-and-white film, action present in every second of it. When the monster asks over what you'd like to watch, you don't give him a concrete answer, letting him choose instead. He passes by a few channels, sound clips amalgamating with each other as he switches back and forth, only stopping when a DreamJobs movie shows up, a bee pun quickly making its way to your ears.

"Wanna watch this?" Sans asks, waiting.

"Whatever you want, honey," you reply, arms crossed as you look him in the eye, attempting to one-up his past flirting attempts. "I bee-lieve I told you to choose, didn't I?" You wink, soul leaving your body when you see he grins at your actions. 

He returns these by hooking an arm right behind the couch, leaning in just a bit closer to your side and staying true to his word by not once touching you. "Flirtin' back now, huh? Surprised you didn't just tell me to buzz off."

You stare at him for a good while, stricken by his line of defense. When you're capable of moving again, you stand up and make way to the kitchen, only stopping after reminding yourself over how helpful Sans had been these past few weeks, and how little you'd shown your gratitude over it. "I'm gonna go get some water. Do you need anything, Serif?"

"You're all I need right now, pal."

"I'm serious."

He chuckles, slumps on a corner of the couch, and rests an arm behind his skull. A subtle grin returns to his face, sly and dangerous. "I'm good," he says. "Though it wouldn't be bad if you could take some monster meds outta the bottom pantry."

You frown at that, reminded over his physical state. "Are you still tired?"

"Nah. Just got a lil' headache, is all."

Though unconvinced, you enter the kitchen and follow his instructions as to where the medicine is. You take the one marked with 'acetaminophen for monsters' and bring two cups of water along with you -- tap for you, and from-the-fridge for him. Taking a cup of water from Toriel's home made you feel bad, even if it was lukewarm and from the tap.

When you return, you sit next to the skeleton and offer him the medicine first. Then, you offer him a glass, though he takes the warm one. "Think I didn't see what ya did there?" he comments, winking. "You ain't gotta restrict yourself so much, pal. You're as much of a family as Frisk is."

You grab the remaining glass and hold back your emotions, how hard they hit making you drink the water to avoid them. "...Thank you, but I'm not." You drink the rest of the water, not wanting to let your voice waver. "Frisk may be like your family, but I certainly am not."

The movie distracts you when Sans decides to look at you; the mood of the film's far more whimsical and upbeat for your current state of mind. "Like I've said before, please don't waste your time on me, 'cause it's not gonna work." 

Silence stays as you both watch the movie, yet it's promptly broken when he finishes his drink. "'Fraid that's not gonna work with us, (Y/N)." His voice is serious again, a rarity for who he is; or at least, who you envisioned him to be. "Just as we're insistent on Frisk being a part of our lives, we're insistent that you can be a part of that, too. It might take time, but it'll happen with effort, integrity, and mutual understanding."

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