#srsly though bonely hearts club your game is awesome

[shyneanon]

So like the skeleton simp community (it’s basically its own fandom) has really changed me, I never used to write romance, but I just... reaaaally love the Bonely Hearts Club thing where Red bakes in secret, so like... @bonelyheartsclub I may or may not have written x reader fanfiction before the full game is even out??? Oh gosh I’m going to write so much fanfiction when the game comes out help me

Anyway here’s Reader finding out about his hobby

----

You were falling asleep on Red’s shoulder when he spoke up.

“Hey, sweetheart.”

“Mm?” you mumbled, blinking awake. Red had paused his game to talk to you. He was usually fine with speaking over the game, so this wasn’t just casual conversation. You (reluctantly) lifted your head off his shoulder so that you could actually make proper eye contact, and once you did, you realized that he looked strangely serious. “Yeah?”

He seemed to hesitate a moment, breaking eye contact, then said, “I… I was thinkin’ I could show ya somethin’.”

Well, judging from how uncharacteristically tentative he seemed, it wasn’t sexual. “Yeah,” you said. “Anything.”

“But you gotta promise not tah tell anybody. Not the other skeletons, nobody…. Got it?”

You raised an eyebrow. Red, hiding something from everyone? He was always pretty loud about things that most people tried to keep discreet. What could he possibly be hiding that would be private even to him?

“As long as you didn’t murder someone,” you said with a smile. He started to close the game, so thankfully, no, he hadn’t murdered anyone.

When he stood up, you moved to get up with him, but he stopped you. “No, it’s in here, I’ll jus’… grab it.”

You watched as he went over to a disorganized pile of… lots of things. Books, video games, magazines, dirty clothing. His room wasn’t as messy as it used to be, but Red was still a Sans. Lazy was their thing.

He started to dig around and eventually fished out several books. You already knew he was a scientist, so they couldn’t be physics books. Were they… porn or something? Like, some really weird kind? No, that wouldn’t make any sense, why would he show you that? You didn’t really need to know the details of his habits in that department.

When he headed back over, you could see an actual blush on his face. Seriously, what was this? Was it romantic? Was he trying to be romantic? No, you’d seen that before, and it was adorably awkward, not… tense, like this.

“So,” he said, “please, just… promise ya won’t laugh at me.”

Why would you laugh at him? Not that you never had, but it had never been spiteful or condescending. “I won’t laugh at you. I promise.”

“... Cool.” He looked down at the books. You couldn’t even get a good look at their spines. Alright, now you had to know what this was about. If he backed out you were going to be really frustrated.

“So,” he said, “y’know how Rus sometimes likes bakin’ stuff, and ya told me that sometimes it’s better than other times?”

… What?

What did this have to do with Red? Still, you nodded-- albeit slowly, and you were sure your confusion was visible on your face.

“W… Well, the times you said it was better, Rus didn’t bake ‘em.”

For some reason, you didn’t put the pieces together at this point. Probably because you were too busy being confused that he had brought up such a mundane topic when being so secretive. “What?”

He made a small sound of frustration, though it wasn’t directed at you, and then held the books up so that you could see their covers.

Recipes.

Baking recipes.

“Wait,” you said, “you bake?”

He looked like he wanted to bury his face in something. “Yeah.”

You bit your lip, but it was no use; you started to giggle. He looked surprised, and you forced yourself to stop when he shrank back a little in embarrassment.

“N-- no,” you said, “it’s not like that! I’m not--”

“I know it’s lame, ya don’t hafta pretend it ain’t.”

“No, Red, I’m just… This is it? This is the secret you wanted to tell me?” Surely there was more.

“Yeah.”

There wasn’t more. You snorted. “Why is this so embarrassing?”

“I mean… it’s not real on-brand fer me, it’s a real soft hobby.” He kept avoiding eye contact. “Stuff like that.” It sounded like there was a lot more on his mind, but you knew Red had a hard time talking about how he felt. You wouldn’t press him about it.

You shrugged. “I mean, it’s unexpected, yeah, but that’s not a bad thing.” You nodded at the books. “How long have you been doing this for?”

“Started a while after we ended up wit’ all th’ other skeletons, livin’ together. It’s actually… kinda nice, tah do somethin’ soft.” His toothy smile returned. “Kinda like a weird middle finger to th’ Underground. Also, I gotta sweet tooth, ‘n this helps.”

His reasons actually seemed pretty Red-like. “A middle finger is totally on-brand for you.”

He was loosening up, his smile less strained and nervous than it was before. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Then you realized something.

“Wait, doesn’t Rus know?”

Red’s smile faltered. “Uh… not exactly.”

Again, what? “Then how…?”

“So, sometimes he fucks up real bad.” His face grew oddly serious. “‘N I mean real bad. Not ‘s bad as Boss’s cookin’, but that’s not sayin’ much. It can be a real disaster. Or jus’ flavorless, ‘r whatever. So, I, uh… I may or may not toss it out, ‘n then bake a replacement.”

You snorted and let out another laugh, this one louder than the giggling from before. “And he doesn’t know?”

Red’s grin widened. “‘E’s got no idea. Thinks it’s just a stroke ‘a genius.” Some pink crept onto his cheeks again. “But… ya can’t tell, OK? The others’d make fun of me.”

“No they wouldn’t.”

“Some’a them would.”

… OK, yeah, maybe some of them would. “OK, I promise I won’t tell.”

“Thanks.”

You stood up. “You said doing soft stuff was a middle finger?”

He looked a bit curious as to what you were getting at, but he answered, “Yeah.”

You headed over to him and wrapped your arms around his neck before kissing his cheek.

“Can we cuddle?” you asked in a small, gentle voice that you knew seemed to crack him every time.

He was surprised for a moment, then dropped the books on the floor in his typical fashion. You wouldn’t tell him to put them up-- not now that he was wrapping his own arms around your waist.

“Ah… d-- doll,” he mumbled shyly.

His face had somehow gotten redder, and the usual edge he had to his smile was gone. His eyelights were large and fuzzy; you always loved when he looked at you like that.

“Y… Yer the only thing I really need tah help my sweet tooth,” he said quietly.

He was always so timid when he said anything romantic. You nuzzled him. “You’re so cute,” you told him.

“Don’ say that, ‘m supposed t’be bad.” You could tell he didn’t mean it-- he was smiling.

“Whatever you say, bad boy.” Bad boy. Psh. He was adorable. So adorable that he was going to be the death of you. “We should bake together sometime.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. We could make brownies when no one’s around. And then eat them with ice cream.”

His grin became a bit mischievous. “Yeah. It’ll be our dirty little secret, huh?” It softened again and he placed his forehead against yours. “You said you wanna cuddle, sweetheart?”

“Mhmm. A middle finger to the Underground, right? Screw the Underground.”

“Yeah,” he said, pulling you close and nuzzling you, although it was a bit rougher than necessary. “Fuck that place.”

He was still learning how to cuddle properly, but you didn’t care. You just liked being in his arms.