#so I backspaced my username and walked away

[scribbly-artist]

I just woke up from a dream within a dream about this account.

What. The. Hell??

[joels-shitty-puns]

The Key To Your Heart - Track 2

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x Musician!Reader

Series Summary: After writing your feelings for Pedro into a song, it gains a lot more popularity than expected. Ultimately it brings both criticism and support, with new possibilities around the corner.

Series Warnings: 18+ only (MDNI). Potential for puns/dad jokes (name of my blog, and the fic) should give that away. This is my first fic which should be its own warning, lol. Also some cursing. Mentions of masturbation (f) maybe more smut later idk. Sadness, reader is pretty depressed. Poor body image. Rude people. Bullying-ish and just lack of support? Anxiety. Age gap! Reader is in her mid 20's, Pedro is current age (48).

Other stuff: Reader is plus sized. AFAB. Inexperienced. Also has a dog, but you can pretend it is another creature probably. Further, in case it isn't clear, italics almost always are the reader's inner thoughts!

Word Count: 2.8K

Series List: Here!

Miss last chapter? Here!

I had a real rough time figuring out the proper voice for Pedro's dialogue and I hope I did him justice. Either way, the support I received for part 1 is astounding and completely unexpected! Thank you all for reading and let me know what you think :) I plan to continue until the story wraps up, but I don't know how many parts that will be. I hope to post every couple days, but with my work schedule it may be less speedy. Here we go!

You walk in the door, unclipping Skip's leash, slipping off your shoes, and dropping your keys on the countertop before flopping onto the couch and unlocking your phone. No. Fucking. Way. 

Pedro Pascal (pascalispunk) replied to your message. 

You dissected each letter of the username, assuming it couldn't possibly be THE Pedro Pascal… but it was. It really, really was. You clicked the message, holding your breath.

Pedro Pascal replied to you: "Hey, you don't need to thank me. I didn't say anything that wasn't true. That guy was out of line. You deserve happiness and I'm sorry for the harsh words you've been hearing. I appreciate you sharing your vulnerability with the world and hope that you will continue to be your genuine self and ignore the comments trying to make you be someone else. Don't listen to those people."

You stared in disbelief at his words, once again wondering why he would ever be so kind to someone he doesn't even know. Someone so childish and stupid to write a song about a man she doesn't know. I can't imagine he'd think these things if he knew it was about him…

You: "Thank you Mr. Pascal. I'm a big fan of yours and hearing that you're in my corner has me completely at a loss. I can't imagine why you would risk damaging your image by defending a girl…" No… don't say girl, it makes you sound like a child. You want this guy to like you! You backspace with a slight feeling of ridiculousness over the whole scenario. Ugh it's all wrong… calm down... calm down… it's just a conversation. He doesn't know you. He doesn't like you. Don't make it weird like you always do.

You try again.

You: "Thank you Mr. Pascal. I really admire your work and for you to say such kind things to me… to think that you're in my corner, has me completely at a loss for words. I don't know what I did to deserve this treatment when you don't even know me, especially when coming to my defense could potentially harm your image… but thank you."

He read it almost immediately. Your heart was beating out of your chest and you felt like you could throw up from the anxiety and adrenaline. After a few seconds, those stress-inducing dot-dot-dots appeared to show you he was typing.

He's actually replying to me?? Again? Doesn't he have better things to do? 

Your mind wandered to what he might be doing while he's messaging you. Sitting at his home, relaxing, taking the time to reply to you? Why? Maybe he's on a plane or waiting for something and killing time. Maybe he's- *ping*

Pedro Pascal replied to your message:

"Please, you can call me Pedro.. and as far as defending you, it doesn't matter to me that we don't know each other personally. You seem like a woman with a good heart, and all you did was share your true self. Nobody deserves to be talked poorly about for something harmless that they feel. If something like that hurts my image… then my true self wasn't being represented. I think we all just want to be seen, and I hope that you will feel comfortable to be yourself and show yourself more."

You don't know when you started crying, but you hiccupped with the overwhelming wave of emotions. He sees me.. you had just scrolled to the bottom of the long reply, when you noticed the "..." of typing again. He has more to say?!

Pedro Pascal: "As far as the subject of your song.. whether you choose to reveal that to him, or the world, you deserve love and respect. Being vulnerable and putting yourself out there is a terrifying thing to do, and I myself tend to close myself off from relationships to avoid that potential for getting hurt. But if that's what you want, you've already taken a big step and you should go for it. I hope that whoever he is gives you the respect and love you deserve."

Holy crap…

He doesn't… he doesn't know it's him right?? No. There's no way. He's just being nice… he's too nice. He's too genuine..??

Your thumbs hover over the keyboard, doing a little dance in the air, pondering what to say. How much can I share with this man? Between this crush and his kind words, it's feeling tricky to hold back from spilling too much information.

You: "Thank you Pedro. You're too kind and I can't properly explain how much I really appreciate it. I'm having trouble coming to terms with all the sudden attention, and finding it hard to ground myself. But your words are helping me a lot. I - "

You hesitated over your next words, wondering if you should open up or just leave it. Don't be weird… don't scare him away like you always have with everyone else. As much as you think of disclosing your hesitation and lack of experience with relationships, as well as your reasons for trepidation, you decide to spare him of your self-hatred. Instead, you delete that last letter and hit send. 

Then you send another message, like he did. "And as far as the guy… I know I don't know him personally, we've never met, but I can already tell he would treat me right. I just hope maybe someday he will love me back."

Immediately after sending it you regretted it. That felt way too open and vulnerable. What are you thinking!?! Shit… what if he sees through you!?

You hold your finger down on the message, ready to hit unsend before he sees it. But it's too late. He's already replying.

Pedro: "He would be stupid not to love you back."

What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck

You: "Thank you, Pedro. 🥺" Play it cool… Play it cool…

Pedro: "Of course, sweetheart. Feel free to message me if anyone else gives you trouble or you just want to chat. I enjoyed talking with you."

???!!!!!?????!!!!! SweetheartSweetheartSweetheart

You grabbed your nearest pillow and screamed into it. "SKIPPPPPEERRRRRRR!!!!!! I JUST HAD A CONVERSATION WITH PEDRO AND IT WAS MAGICAL AND AAAAAAAAAAH!!!!!!!" You squealed.

Skipper lifted his head at you and sighed before setting his head back down. He was no stranger to your shenanigans. Napping after a good walk was a better use of his energy than to deal with your drama. He closed his little brown eyes again.

You lay back on the couch, kicking your feet and squeezing your pillow to your body.

Fuck, this is going to hit me like a truck if it goes sour. If he even realizes it's about him, probably. Crap… what am I going to do?

The next day, you woke up and checked your emails before work. Thankfully nobody at your workplace has seemed to place your singing voice to your speaking voice, or pieced together the fact that several people know you have a crush on a certain celebrity and are a musician. Thank goodness. That’s the last thing you need.

You closed your eyes for a few minutes, trying to calm your breathing, your nerves, and your heart rate, before relaxing and shaking out your body. Finally, you decided to get ready for bed and see what tomorrow brings.

Your emails come in, one by one, with one intriguing email at the top, from a well known pop-culture show called The Jazz & Ally-Kat Show. They want to do an interview with you, live, as soon as possible. 

Great. They probably just want to see what I look like or have me spill my guts about my crush. You roll your eyes, and you can’t help but feel like the Mandalorian with his lack of face reveals. If only you had a cute little space baby to accompany you. I guess Skip is my own precious cargo in a way, you think, while looking at your still sleeping pup. You're being silly… Not everything needs to relate back to Pedro, you think with a sigh to yourself. 

Yet despite your anxiety, you agreed to their interview, with the exception that it was done as a podcast style interview, where simply your voices are featured. Surprisingly, they agreed. I guess everyone likes some drama, and what better way to get views than by having a little mystery.

The interview was scheduled for three days from then, and in the meantime you focused on work and your album, which was mostly finished after years of writing songs. All it needed was some editing.

As the days went by, you wanted desperately to message Pedro again. You wanted to tell him your feelings. Have him confess that he loves you too. Ask him about his family, his friends, his favorite things. Meet him, kiss him, fall in love, and finally be happy. But ultimately you knew that was silly. You had one little conversation, and although it was nice, you still didn't know each other. There was no way he loved you back. Yet…? you asked yourself, hopeful, almost asking for permission to let yourself try and earn his love. 

Despite Instagram drawing you in like a magnet, you held back from messaging him. You didn't want to come on too strong. You messaged him first last time. He doesn't know you. Literally… he doesn't even know your real name, or what you look like. But maybe that's a good thing…

_____The day of the interview:_____

You woke up around 9:30 in the morning; nervous, slightly nauseated, restless, and jittery. Why did I agree to this??! 

You decided to pass on the coffee this morning, figuring it would make things worse, and instead decided to take Skipper for a walk. After some fresh air followed by a refreshing shower, you looked at the clock. 11:30 AM. With the interview at 1PM, you still had some time to kill and sat down at the piano, letting your mind wander to Pedro while you plunked chords out with nimble fingers. I wonder if Pedro has ever wanted to learn any instruments… I could teach him, you daydream.

Your hands dance across the piano while he reads through a script in the other room, eyebrows furrowed as he highlights another line. You look up over the grand piano and see his soft brown curls blowing under the fan haphazardly. The sun is shining in through the window, which Skip bathes under, and reflects a golden brown undertone with gray streaks in Pedro's hair. He really is beautiful, you think. His tongue swipes across his lips as he makes notes and erases, before finally feeling your eyes on him. He glances up from the script, giving you a soft smile and a wink; with those chocolate brown eyes that frequently cause you to lose your train of thought. Your eyes drift down to the keys again, feeling a soft blush creep over your cheeks. 

"That music sounds beautiful, baby.." he says softly while padding up to you behind the piano. He places his large hands on your shoulders, sweeping them down over both your arms before settling on your hands, still resting over the black and white keys. You look over your shoulder and he leans in, closing his eyes as he presses a gentle kiss to your lips. Just like that scene in Narcos… you think. Yikes, I really am obsessed… anyway… you think back to your daydream…

He sits down at the chair next to your piano bench, kissing your lips again gently, then the corner of your mouth, your cheek, and your jaw. Your stomach gives a wave of butterflies and you lean in more to kiss him deeper, tugging on his hair while his hands find the small of your back, gently running his palms up your spine. A chill overcomes you and he-

~Beep beep. Beep beep. Beep beep.~

Fuck. You snap out of your fantasy and turn off the alarm you set to go off ten minutes before the interview. At least I gave myself time to use the restroom and wash my face, you think, hoping to clear your head a bit now that you're slightly frazzled.

Unfortunately the feeling that replaced it was nerves as you sat down at your desk, typing into your keyboard, turning on your mic, and hoping that Skipper doesn't throw a fit over the wind or something while you're on this call.

Jazz: "Hi there listeners! We're joined by the artist of the moment, our favorite lovesick lady, the singer responsible for "Imaginary Love!"

Both women on the other end of the call applaud.

Well… not sure I like being called a lovesick lady but what else did I expect, really?

You: "Thank you guys for having me, I appreciate you wanting to get to know me better."

Despite the rough start, the ladies turned out to be really respectful and fun. You think that if the circumstances were different, you could actually be friends with them. You discuss casual things like your dog, your favorite activities and favorite pop culture topics (careful to avoid mentioning Pedro or any other actor that could be perceived as your lyrical subject), and they even mention celebrity crushes they've had growing up. 

At the mention of their celebrity crushes, you can feel the interview funnel into a dangerous alley with little to no escape. Jazz was the first to broach the subject. "So… we've just discussed our celebrity crushes, and I think I speak for all of us here when I say we're all very curious to know who-"

-an air horn blares-

What the hell is that? You wonder, both thankful for the interruption, yet startled by the disruption.

They both chime in: "Viewers!!! Do you all know what that sound is!?! We have reached 1 million listeners!!!!"

To say you were astounded is an understatement.

You: "You're kidding!? 1 million people are listening to us right now?"

Ally: "You bet they are! And listeners… I don't know about you guys… but I can't help but wonder if our celebrity heartthrob is one of those million?"

They turn their attention to you again. "What do you think? Think he's listening?"

You're thankful for the lack of a camera, because you can't help but blush at the thought. You'd be lying if you hadn't already considered (hoped) that he was listening too. 

Jazz: "So as we were saying… I think we all are in agreement that we want to know who he is. You sound like a nice enough girl, so what's holding you back? You've made it. You can contact him now and he'll probably reply."

I already have… you thought with a smirk.

Jazz continues: "Which brings me to the next point... I know you've had a lot of attention lately. You were signed to a record company, you were contacted by us, you've been mentioned by a few talk shows and celebrities. Pedro Pascal even publicly defended you. The radio has been playing your song nonstop and people can't get enough. What do you think of all this attention?"

You: "I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a bit surprised and maybe a little scared," you answered with a nervous laugh. "But I am so thankful for the kind words that I receive and I love hearing from people who can relate to my music."

Ally: "You've certainly received your fair share of criticism too. It sounds like you received that before your song was ever published as well."

You: "I have, and it's been challenging to try and not let it get me down. But I'm trying my best, and the positives seem to be greatly outweighing the negatives," you state, your mind thinking of Pedro and how his messages were really the only positive you needed to get you through the dark storm of criticism.

Ally: "I guess what I'm wondering is.. among all these people contacting you.. has he?"

You try to play dumb: "Has who?"

Both interviewers laugh before Ally continues. "Nice try. You know who we're trying to find out about. Has he, the man of your dreams and star of your lyrics, contacted you at all? Will we see a romance blooming?"

Your stomach flipped. You were not expecting this question. Should you tell the truth??? It's not like they could know who has contacted you, short of hacking your account. You have had a lot of people contact you, after all.

You take a deep breath before answering. "I uh… I have received a lot of messages, some of them from celebrities."

They reply, and you can practically feel them leaning in. "Yeeeeaaaah?????"

You consider your next move, your heart really working overtime since this whole thing started. Finally you decide your answer.

"Yes. We've talked."

Looking for Track 1? Read it here!

Next chapter: Here!

~Thanks for reading! Stay ~tuned~ for more!

Taglist: Let me know if you want in :)

@pedrotonin @starcrossed02

[thero0ks]

Fanfics & Coffee Shops <Mike Zacharias>

Mike see's the reader writing at a coffee shop. Levi decides to be a wingman, but fangirls instead.

Slight NSFW featuring Erwin Smith ahead. Please don't read if you're under 18.

The aroma of coffee beans engulfed her when she entered the small coffee shop. The barista smiled at her presence, “the usual?”

Y/N nodded, swiping her debit card, before throwing some cash in the tip jar. She eagerly made her way to the small table in front of a large window pain. The leather seat squished as she sat down.

Reaching for her bag she pulled out the small tablet before attaching the keyboard. Turning her attention to the window the drizzling rain brought a smile to her lips. Rainy days were her favorite for writing. Work had been hectic this week, and she just wanted to escape in her favorite fandoms. Another reader-insert to share with others who shared the same love for her favorite characters. Pulling up Tumblr and AO3 to check for any updates, she settled into a blank Google Doc page.

She thanked the barista when she sat the drink down, and went to work typing while her coffee cooled to a drinkable temperature.

* **

Mike hadn’t expected to ever return to this coffee shop when he originally walked through the door. The coffee was great, but the shop was out of his way. A lone figure in the corner typing away caught his attention. He took a seat observing her. It was cute when she’d stumble over a word, and pause briefly to push her glasses up before carrying on. There were other times when she’d have her cheek pressed against her hand trying to overcome the dreaded writer’s block. He especially found the changing facial expressions adorable, or the way she’d occasionally bob her head to the music she was playing through her head phones.

When he returned to the coffee shop the next Saturday around the same time he was pleasantly surprised to find her occupying the same seat, typing away. Mike’s curiosity ran wild. Perhaps she was an aspiring author, or maybe she ran a blog? The dedication to her craft was admirable.

So it continued on. For weeks he would watch her write, and she seemed mostly oblivious to his presence.

His friends eventually took notice when he always came up with excuses as to why he was busy every Saturday morning. Levi was determined to find out his secret. After much convincing Mike finally allowed him to tag along.

They walked into the coffee shop around ten that morning, and Mike’s heart raced at the sight of her. Levi eyed his taller friend suspiciously before they stepped forward to order.

“So what? You just watch her type?” Levi inquired, pouring a cup of black tea.

“Not exactly, I read too.” Mike raised his hands defensively.

Levi snorted, “you’re such a creep.”

Mike’s face turned red at his friend’s statement, “I just enjoy observing her.” He mumbled, “she’s just existing in her own world, she doesn’t want some random guy hitting on her.” Mike said, running his fingers through his golden locks.

Levi observed the little habits that Mike seemed to adore. “I wonder what she’s writing?”

Mike shrugged, “no clue. That’s all part of the mystery.” He said, taking a sip of his coffee. “Whatever it is, she’s certainly dedicated.” He added, “she shows up every week without fail.”

Levi stood up. He heard Mike hiss a ‘what are you doing?’ Before waving him off. He made his way over to her table. She was too wrapped up in typing that she hadn’t noticed him hovering over her shoulder, peering at the screen.

* **

“He sat her on the desk, and her back shivered as it hit the cold mahogany. Papers and ink scattered as he leaned over her. Erwin’s pupils were blown wide, a black hole devouring every inch of her flesh.

Her body let out an involuntary shudder at his predatory gaze. “Do you want me to fuck you cadet?” He growled, low in her ear. Awakening something primal inside her.”

Backspace.

Backspace.

“Awakening something primal in her bones.

‘Please Commander! I want you to fuck me.’

“Get on your knees cadet.” He ordered, as Y/N slunk to the floor.”

* **

Levi’s eyes flickered to the open internet tabs. The AO3 logo was in the left hand corner along with her username. “Wait, you’re (username)?” The statement fell from Levi’s lips before he could stop it, causing her to jump.

Panic flooded through her as she quickly closed her internet browser. “How long have you been standing there?” She inquired, as a blush painted her cheeks. Her ears felt hot at the embarrassment coursing through her.

“Was that the next chapter in My Biggest Gamble?” Levi inquired, taking a seat across from her.

“You read my work?” She inquired, pulling her headphones down.

It was Levi’s turn to blush, “I have it bookmarked.” He admitted, his eye catching Mike’s who mouth “what the fuck?”

“Well I’m happy you enjoy it.” She said, offering him a bashful smile.

“The real reason I came over is because my idiot friend has been pining over you for weeks.” He said, gesturing to Mike.

“I’ve noticed him.” She admitted, brushing a piece of hair behind her ear. “I’ve been looking at him too.”

Levi smirked, “tell you what. I’ll introduce you two If you turn this situation into an Erwin oneshot.”

“Deal.” She said shaking his hand.

Following him over to the table Mike abruptly stood up. “This is Mike.” Levi said, gesturing at the towering man. “Mike this is (AO3 Username).”

Mike shot Levi a confused look, “it’s Y/N.” She said, offering him a small wave. “Did you maybe want to…” she trailed off.

“Get dinner sometime?” Mike offered, eagerly his heart warming at the soft blush that dusted her cheeks.

She nodded, handing him her phone, “if you want to exchange numbers…”

He quickly unlocked his phone handing it to her. He glanced down at her wallpaper. A sketch of a blond haired man gripping a glass of whiskey. Mike quickly opened up her contacts and imputed his information. Exchanging phones once again she shouldered her bag. “Text me, or call me.” She said with a smile. “That chapter will be out tomorrow.” She said pointedly to Levi.

“I look forward to it.”

She gave them both a wave before disappearing out the door.

“Did you ever figure out what she was writing?” Mike inquired.

“Tch. She writes fanfic.”

Mike furrowed his brows, “fanfic?”

Levi laughed motioning for his phone. Reluctantly Mike handed it over. Levi made quick work pulling up AO3, and finding her account. “I recommend reading anything marked NSFW.”

“Wait, did she write all this?” Mike said with wonder scrolling through the various oneshots.

“Those stories labeled NSFW will give you a pretty good idea of what her kinks are.” Levi said, pouring himself another cup of tea.

Mike clicked on the first story he saw with a NSFW warning. Levi smirked behind his teacup, enjoying Mike’s shock as he kept scrolling.

“Wait her phone wallpaper….is she writing about that guy?” Mike asked, glancing up.

Levi shook with laughter as he nodded. “You’re going to have to share her with several fictional men.”

[weia-yo]

Alright, so typically for the secret santa I draw something but I’m very excited for the chance this year to write a fanfic. This is for Winter @frankpanioncube who requested an Asgore/Reader fic; as someone who also loves Asgore I’m more than happy to oblige. This is only the first planned chapter of the fic, I’ll make sure to upload the next chapters over the coming days/weeks but in the meantime I wanted the first chapter to feel complete on it’s own. I hope you like it!

And I wanted to give an extra thank-you to @undertalesecretsanta for hosting this event once again, it’s always a fun experience. Thank you so much!

Make Our Garden Grow

It's a nice sunny day, and you look over at the pile of crumpled paper. You have a few talents, you can admit that. This wasn't one of them, and you’re a bit out of your depth here.

Unfortunately as much as you’d rather admit defeat and foist the task onto someone else that wasn’t much of an option; according to your boss there already was a florist who quit with no notice. As her personal secretary (however often that changes depending on who needs more assistance that month) the task fell to you.

It's not that you hate flowers, as some of the more eccentric coworkers assumed when you didn't jump for joy at the opportunity, it's just. You figured when you went to work at the Embassy that you'd get a shot at really getting to help. Even the menial tasks like photocopying documents or filing things or even getting coffee had a demonstrable benefit for the people who actually did Important work for monster-human relations.

This? Designing and arranging bouquets for an office party?

Flowers are alright, even awesome sometimes, but you have a hard time seeing this as really being all that worth it when there are so many other things you were sure needed to get done.

Oh well. It's not like your boss is wrong, this is still a task that needs to be done and you are available.

But that doesn't solve the problem of not knowing what you're doing. You're gonna need some help.

A quick internet search later, past some options that seemed entirely too extravagant and beyond your non-existent skill level, you found a blog that had some fairly simple arrangements. Still a bit out of your league and knowing your tendencies to cut corners, you could go for some advice.

The blogger seemed friendly when you were going through his posts, you could only hope he was just as friendly in direct conversation.

aaaaa: excuse me, i hope i'm not bugging but i'm trying to make a flower arrangement for a party at work and i have no idea what i'm doing, can you give me some advice?

Gar-Dad-ner: Howdy! of course, I'd be more than happy to help!

Wow, fast! This guy (well, probably guy if the username is any indication) sure seems dedicated to this thing. Or maybe he just has a lot of free time? Oh how you wish you could still relate to-there's another message, Focus.

Gar-Dad-ner: A good place to start is knowing what colors you're going to use. you'll find you don't tend to need that many different types of flowers to make a good arrangement. Gar-Dad-ner: If it's an office party this will especially help, in my experience their taste tends to lean to the professional, less fun and colorful side. Gar-Dad-ner: Of course i mean no offense! It's not my personal taste but to each their own!

You had to laugh. The Embassy is actually one of the least oppressive work environments you've been employed at, but even the best workplaces seem to have a minimum requirement for a stifling and overbearing upper caste. Still...

aaaaa: XD aaaaa: honestly, they're not That bad. i think my coworkers can handle a little fun :D

Gar-Dad-ner: That's good to know! Gar-Dad-ner: Well, you could mix in a more obvious flower, especially as a pop to whatever colors you decide to go with. Gar-Dad-ner: I'm rather biased but my favorite flower to add is the Golden Flower. Gar-Dad-ner: Ooh, my favorite arrangement would have to be one made with golden flowers and lavender! Gar-Dad-ner: I never had the chance to work with lavender until recently, it’s quite a gorgeous flower. Gar-Dad-ner: They just seem to work so well together, don’t you think?

A bit much to take in at once but you aren’t about to complain. And that arrangement itself might actually be perfect for what you need; of course a Golden Flower would be a good match for a party celebrating The Embassy's work, far more subtle than your initial disaster-in-waiting plan to use Echo Flowers. Huh, Golden Flowers. Is he a-?

Gar-Dad-ner: Ah, forgive me, I can sometimes get over-excited.

aaaaa: what? dude, no, that's nothing to apologize for! aaaaa: this is already a lot of help, i don't know dick about flowers- *Backspace.* aaaaa: this is already a lot of help, you seem to really know your stuff! aaaaa: if you don't mind is it alright for me to use this design? i can credit you.

Gar-Dad-ner: Oh that won't be necessary, it's quite a simple arrangement and i can hardly claim ownership! I'm honestly just flattered you want my help, and if you'd like I'd be more than happy to give you more advice on it.

aaaaa: deal, but i'm not about to pretend i'm good at this so you're getting all the credit.

This is nice. You still aren’t super into the whole project, but if it means getting to keep talking to this guy who seems like a total sweetheart (ok maybe a little too early to call that, you've talked for maybe 5 minutes max but Still), you think maybe this can be a good experience.

Asgore strode through the halls of The Embassy on his way to yet another meeting, already stressed by the day's events. His assistant, a short blue dragonoid covered in what Asgore assumed was the latest MTT-Brand Perfume based on the thick layer of glitter, traveled alongside and rattled off a report penned by Ambassador Frisk and Co-Ambassador Papyrus he'll need to relay in a few short minutes.

He was trying to listen, it was important for his duty, but he felt like his head was going to explode. His time Underground was filled with more than his fair share of hardships and he was glad to have it be far behind him, but never in that cave did he Ever have to deal with someone So Rude and Stubborn and-

Asgore stopped, his assistant running full-speed into the back of his legs before falling straight back in a rather impressive pratfall and a startled yelp. Asgore paused for a moment before blinking out of his daze.

"Oh no, I am So sorry, Clawdio!" He reached down to help Clawdio up. As he did so, he glanced to the vase of purple and yellow-no, Golden Flowers.

Delicately placed among sprigs of lavender, baby's breath and lemon leaf, carefully selected and arranged. Whoever made this seemed to have put in quite a bit of effort to make something so precious, so perfect it was like it was made for him...

The thought brought a smile to Asgore for the first time that day though he quickly pushed it away. Just a pleasant turn of fate. A nice stroke of luck that he was able to see on this day.

"Erm... Your Majesty?"

"Hmm? Oh! Sorry, Friend. Again. It has... been quite the day."

Asgore looked over Clawdio once more to ensure they were truly unhurt before being shoved back down the hall towards the meeting room he was now dangerously close to being late for. And yet, he couldn't stop smiling even if he tried. His thoughts drifted to the pleasant conversation he had earlier in the week.

"Clawdio, I'm afraid I'm not quite as eloquent as I'd like to be, and if it's not too much to ask I would like you to keep an open ear in case I start veering off topic."

He wondered if he would ever speak to that person again. Asgore had interacted with many people through his gardening web page (how long would it take for him to get used to the word Blog?) and aside from the odd vulgarity they were typically cordial, even friendly. But 'aaaaa,’ whatever their real name was, seemed different. He hoped he wasn't projecting but they seemed to actually Want to talk with him.

They didn't just tolerate when he'd ramble, they encouraged it. They cared enough to want to do a good job and Asgore suspected it had very little to do with an actual interest in the subject and only partly had to do with wanting to fulfill a workplace obligation.

Ah well. There wasn't much he could truly do about it. If they never spoke to him again, if they really were only interested in their job... he'd be a little hurt, of course, but he'd appreciate the time nonetheless.

They stop for real in front of the room where Asgore's next meeting will be. With his smile unwavered he opens the door and walks in.