Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Various wet noises fill the room. Your scaley lover grumbles into your neck. Although he's a chipper skeleton, his voice is deep. Your boyfriend is liberally licking and nuzzling you.

"Sans-" you start, growing concerned for your partner. His large skeletal hands rub soothing circles into your hip.

"Darling," he murmurs back. His voice is scratchy, and his skull pressed into your neck. It makes his spine hunch. You run your hands up and down his shoulder blades. You can see your lover's tail flick in the back of his room. The movement takes place further from you, so it doesn't jostle your position. You're straddling his wide tail. When you shift for better comfort, Sans whimpers. He nudges his skull as far as it can comfortably go to press against your neck.

Flick. Flick.
His tail is lashing at the end like he's a big scaley-partly-dead dog.

"Is your heat coming soon?"

Sans nods, a whimper threatening to break out.

"Aw, honey," you coo. If Sans' heat is coming soon, then his bones must be aching. "Do you need me to get the heating pad? Fish tacos? Sea tea?" He gives you a look that makes you feel like the best partner in the world. Appreciation sops through the malleable skull of your boney beau. He is silent, but that's okay. You got the message loud and clear.

"Alright, I'll be right back with the goods. Hang tight."

He huffs in a 'like I'll go anywhere' manner. You chuckle and roam around the house for the items. The sea tea is in the (frankly huge) fridge. You find the heat pad hanging halfway out of the closet. That must be what he had been rummaging around for when you came in. He had bum-rushed you and whisked you away to his 'marvelous base of operations.'

His heats made him clingy, well, more than usual. His clinginess had settled down as your relationship became more secure. You both still had your moments, though. Shaking your head to clear your mind, you haul the stuff to Sans' room.

When you enter, he's wrapped his tail around himself tight. His nest is a little messier than usual. You kick your shoes off by his door. Sans takes the proffered sea tea with a delighted hum. Soon, the heat pad is plugged in, and the fish tacos are on his nightstand. You let him coerce you into a snuggle pile. The end of his tail wraps around the bottom of your leg in a gentle caress. The bulky lamia enjoys his snacks, and you can almost doze off from the comfort. His bones are warmer now that the pad is cranked up. Sans finishes and wraps his tail around you.

With an easy roll of his body, you're wrapped from hips down in lamia tail. His arms cradle you to his chest, and you're thankful for the gaps between his ribs. They offer breathing room. You both bask in mutual warmth. The head pad is against where you and him both meet. You notice one of your hoodies has been added to the nest, and it makes you smile.

Sans looks blissed-out, eyesockets closed, and mouth agape. Poor lad works so hard to keep a good sleep schedule on most days. You nuzzle into him and rub the lingering aches from his bones. You give it less than five minutes before he's snoring.

Chapter Text

"DARLING."

That voice belongs to your boyfriend. Bonefriend would be more accurate, actually, but he'd swear up and down that he hated the pet name. You knew he loved it, though. It was early in the morning based on the meager sunlight sifting through the window shades. You mumble something you hope is close to papyrus. It comes out sounding more like 'Pyrus.'

"YOU WERE TOSSING A LOT. ARE YOU ALRIGHT?"

Now that he mentions it, your neck has a weird crick in it. The warm bone of your boyfriend's hand cups your cheekbone. His expression is so warm you think you might burn in it. A lovely death.

"m fine. Sorry," you grumble, nuzzling his hand and resting your own over it. God, he was always so soft in the mornings. Papyrus treated you well, but seeing him before the woes of daily life had settled on his broad shoulders? Priceless. If only the rough nature of the Underground had treated him better. Oh well, can't change the past...

"DON'T BE SORRY. I ENJOY WAKING UP NEXT TO YOU," he says, and you know it true. He was earnest like that. Being together for this long had made you an expert in reading 'THE TERRIBLE PAPYRUS.' You guide the hand on your cheek to your lips, pressing a chaste kiss to his knuckles. A lack of his attempt at seeming disgruntled elicits affection from you. It expresses itself as another kiss to his hand, right where his palm would be. You plant another one on his wrist for good measure. The inside of his wrist. Intimate. A sensitive spot for him.

“Goodmorning, sunshine.”

A grin blooms across his skull, followed by a warm flush and joyful rattle of his bones. It's a lovely tune and you know nothing short of head trauma could ruin the memory.

"And to you, starshine."

Chapter Text

"....What the fuck is this?"

Sans, propped up on his side with a fake rose in his teeth, grins lecherously. He's on the table and reeks of alcohol.

"Draw me like one of yer fresh girls"

Snort. There's a big mustard stain on his shirt, and you can still see the dust lingering on his sneakers. Fucker just came from a bar fight again. Must have kicked the other monster. He's not shaking from an EXP boost.

"Get cleaned up before seducing me, fresh girl"

He gets up with an easy grin and shrug. "Was worth a shot. Seeya in a bit." Sans teleports and you still jolt from it after all this time. You hear the shower start to run and pick up a half squashed bottle of mustard from the floor. Where did he even get the flower? Who the fuck sold fake flowers anyways?

The sound of an obnoxious pop song floats from upstairs. You groan. Fuck, he's in a fantastic mood. What kind of chaos did he sow at that bar?!

Chapter Text

You smile as you watch your long-term partner interact with your son. Today's the anniversary of when you adopted the young bitty, aptly named 'Star' for his bubbly nature. Some of his brethren became jaded, but so far your son has retained his kind and outgoing nature. You were glad you had been the first to adopt him. both you and Edge knew you'd try your best to the one and final home for your son. He means a lot to you both. Anyone who had a negative opinion could suck it. Star is a wonderful child.

Edge had initially wanted to name him Spike or Doom. You talked him down to letting his middle name be Wrath. The cat already has doom covered. Star Wrath the Skeleton.

Weirdly fitting for your son. His temper was unrivaled when it was coaxed. Usually, when he's scared by something, like the time he growled at a really loud noise. It was an opossum rambling through your recycling. He tends to swing his arms about when you sneak upon him. Fortunately, he's a small fella, so the damage to anyone large is minimal to nonexistent. Like the time Edge was brooding and walked past Star who had been doing a puzzle. Star had jumped and ended up making his bitty chair smack into Edge's skull.

Speaking of your illustrious date mate with supreme naming skills, he's rubbing under his eye sockets. His glasses are crookedly set, and you knew he must have been working late again. Probably to free up today since his publisher has been looking for updates on his latest novel. It's bound to be as enchanting as the last. You just knew it would.

Star plants his chubby (and small) hands on his hips. He's gloveless. They only appear as a feature of his outfit when doing 'heavy' work or going out.

Currently, Edge is cracking eggs for Star's cake. You and he decided the best course of action would be to use the same ingredients for a big cake (for you and the other biggies) and a Star-sized cake. That way you'd all have enough, Star would have his own and wouldn't feel left out. The same batter, same cake, just split into two. Today, he'd feel catered to.

The bitty straightens his 'Birthday Boy' sash (lovingly made by you with the help of YouTube) and gives 'Papa' directions. You swear he gets his directional nature from Edge. It's charming whereas Edge intimidates those that don’t know him well. Star's a delightful child and you'd never replace him.

"Papa!" Star complains. When you refocus, you can see that Edge has playfully smeared cake batter on your son's face. Smiling, you commit the image to memory.

"Sorry," your partner amends, sounding not sorry at all, "It's Tradition." You snort. It isn't.

"But this is my first birthday, Papa!" Star huffs and you want to pinch his cheekbones. They're so squishy! Malleable bones are a blessing from the universe 100% So expressive on your little darling (and Edge too, but he'd deny it till the end. Only family sees him so vulnerable.)

"It's tradition now," you cheerfully add.

You were so excited to give him gifts. He had a playdate scheduled tomorrow with his bitty friends. Today was family time. Red is supposed to stop by later but had his gift dropped off already, just in case the shop held him too long.

Edge had bought him a bitty-sized puzzle designed by bitties. It has marbles and colors, so you knew he'd love it. The gift was bound to end up next to his prized Rubix cube. So far, he had one side done, and it was already his second time solving it.

Naturally, you got him clothes. Blue, black, and white with some pinks thrown in. Just the way he likes it. Maybe you got him very very tiny hand weights, too. They're bright blue. He was still a growing bitty and you knew some of his shirts have already been enlisted as sleep clothes. He'd grown in centimeters. There was a special spot on the yardstick that showed his height change.

Red bought him a book of riddles and his first construction kit. It made a ridiculously small model helicopter. Star was surely going to paint it and cover it with stickers once it's constructed.

Star wipes off the batter with an exaggerated groan. Edge finishes whipping the batter and prepares it for baking. You bring dinner out of the oven (where you put it so it kept warm) and arrange it on the table. Star has his own mini dining set placed between where you and Edge sit across from each other. Doomfanger lazes on the floor, her only sign of life her heavy breathing and tail-flick.

"Don't take his side, Nonny!" Star complains in both jest and frustration.

"Sorry, hun," you say with a smile. Star grins up at you when you serve his small meal. The plate is as big as a quarter and on it sits a very small taco. Your town had more bitty services than most, including groceries and proper serving sizes. For what there wasn't, you made do.

Edge smiles to himself as he sits down. The cake is in the oven. Tonight, you eat tacos, specialized to your tastes. Star's have extra tiny tomato chunks, Edge has extreme seasoning and yours is how you like it.

You all eat and share laughter. It's the first birthday of many to come, with your loved ones at your side (minus Red, the poor working bastard.)

Chapter Text

"Them jeans makes yer ass look thick as fuck"

Red wiggles his fingers in your back pocket. You snort and then yelp when his phalanges pinch your cheek.

"Red!"

He snickers and grins lecherously at you. Through the gap in his shark-like teeth, you can see his ecto tongue flicker. You pout and rub your ass cheek defensively.

Red shrugs, the smug bastard. You turn back around and go searching for fish sticks like you were earlier when he pulled his stunt. You find the right brand. It's nestled in the bottom of the freezer. You sigh and prepare yourself for Red's teasing comment. Unfortunately, you like the attention. If only he wouldn't do this in public.

When you straighten up, fish sticks in hand, you see Sans and Red standing together in the reflection of the door. At least they aren't leaning against the bread. The two of them have their skulls turned in your direction, and you instantly know why. The voyeurs.

Sans' hands are stuffed in his hoodie pockets. Red has one held in the air, and he makes a pinching motion with two fingers. Is he-

Both of them are staring at you now. Red just told Sans what he did. You ignore them and walk further down. Of course, they'd slack off during grocery shopping. Thankfully, you just had to grab fries, and you could check out. The brand you know papyrus likes is just low enough in the freezer where you have to hunch a little. You resign yourself to this fate and grab them. Sans whistles behind you.

"Daaaamn," Red says. You hastily shut (slam) the freezer door shut and pace down the aisle. It's check-out and-ignore-your-boyfriends time.

Sans teleports into place next to you and shuffles along. Red has caught up to you based on the squeaky sounds of his beat-up sneaks.

"It's nice when you come around, but the view when you leave is somethin' else," Sans says. You can't tell if the hand on your ass is his or Reds. The hand squeezes, and you have a hunch it's Sans'.

Red snickers, "A real good view, sweetheart."

If you say anything, it'll be a strangled scream, so you duck your head and walk faster. The hand removes itself as soon as you enter the view of other people. A small mercy. Sans grabs your hand and tucks it inside his hoodie pocket. It's cozy. Red grabs one of the bags and takes charge of your group. It seems like he found a register with no line. You get rung up, and everything is peachy until Red tucks his hand in your back pocket. He waits longer to pinch this time.

He's lucky you love him.

Chapter Text

"Don't be alarmed" you jerk your head to the side. A tall and intimidating figure stands next to you. When did this skeleton get here? His body moves, now caging yours in against the brick wall of the alley you were just walking down. "There are several dangerous individuals following you. I'm a detective."

You gulp and force your body to relax. It's in your best interests not to alarm those individuals. "Where's your badge?" He takes no offense, shifting to put a free hand on the wall. This way, only you can see his front.

"My coat's left inner side. You'll have to feel for the pocket." He's right. You can't see it at all when you slyly pry his coat pocket open. Taking advantage of how this looks, you slide your other arm around his neck. He says nothing. You slowly feel for the pocket and find it. Without breaking eye contact, you force a smile for your watchers and carefully take the thick material out. You're very aware of how this looks as you slide the badge into view, blocked from the 'dangerous individuals' by the detective's torso. It's a nice shape, his torso. You think the internet would call it an inverted triangle. The detective has long legs, too, which you can tell based on the one between your calves and the other pressed next to you. He's thoroughly pinning you and does not look shameful at all.

The badge checks out, telling you he's named Papyrus. You quirk the skeleton a smile as you slip his badge back in place. "Alrighty, Papyrus, what's your plan?"

He grins, amusement shining through his red eyelights and expansive sockets. Are the eyelights layered on top like an iris, or do they float inside? It's rude to stab people's eye sockets, so you don't find out.

"We're paramours. You're taking me back to your place," he states. It'd sound clinical if you couldn't hear the humor in his tone. This situation is ridiculous, so you understand.

"Okay, so while they think we're having wild and kinky sex, you're going to do what?" He thinks that's funny based on the suppressed laughter you can feel that makes his torso shudder. At least your coping mechanism benefits others around you.

"I'll inform you of the situation and then guard so that you can rest tonight. It's not wild and kinky sex, but does that suffice?" Oh, so the detective is a jokester!

"A rain check on the sex, then. When should we leave?" The detective contemplates this. His skull inches closer to yours, and his hand comes up to cup your face. His thumb presses itself over your mouth, and he kisses his thumb. You flutter your eyes shut to keep with the ruse. Ah, the classical fake kiss. The desire for that thumb to be out of the way rises within you, unbidden. Well, the detective is hot, so you'll let it slide.

"Now," he mutters against your skin. "My car is around the corner, on Simmons." His bones are warm from the magic in his body. They've warmed you now, and when he leans away, you feel cold. Holy shit, he's tall. Your brain feels like mush, and the expression he's giving you should be criminal for the things it's doing to you.

"My place or yours?" he purrs seductively, his voice putting a whole new meaning to sexy. You get the feeling that you're going to have a GREAT time.

"How about yours, detective? Wouldn't want those nasty criminals to know where I live." He hums low in his throat and traces down your body with his eyelights. It promises something nastier than any perp.

"Wonderful idea. How about you give me your number on the way over?" You give him a cheeky look and appraise his broad shoulders and sharp cheekbones.

"I can arrange that. lead the way." His grin is wolfish as he wraps his long arm securely around you, guiding you down the street to where his car is.

Chapter Text

You buckle yourself up inside the detective's car. It's a sleek and bright red vehicle. Not very covert for a detective. Papyrus gives you a sultry look before he buckles up and cranks the car. You wait for him to pull out before dropping the bombshell.

"So, detective, do you usually fake a dangerous scenario to hit on people?"

He sputters and almost swerves into a stop sign. The car jerks and stops suddenly. The detective's hands are clutching the steering wheel. At least, you're pretty sure he's a detective. That badge looked pretty damn legitimate.

"How did you know?" You smile, enjoying how you hold the cards now. Turn tables, right?

"The only people near me, minus you, were a group of kids from my neighborhood. Sure, they're tall, but are those teens dangerous? Nah. Besides, a swanky car like this while you're on the clock? Sus."

He looks apologetic now. Did someone dare him to do this, or is it a roleplay attempt? Papyrus flicks a switch on his car door. It unlocks the vehicle. Since it is a new model, it automatically locks the doors when the car starts. You give him a raised eyebrow look. His expression is tight, and he pointedly looks away from you. After a beat or two of silence, he gives you a confused face.

"..What are you still doing here?"

You snort and adjust your seatbelt pointedly. "Hopefully, going to get that wild and kinky sex I was promised, paramour." His stunned look is funny as hell. You whip out your phone and open your messaging app.

"Take a turn left at the next light while I text my friend my location. No offense, but you did hit on me under false pretenses."

"Where am I driving to?" You grin, and he looks apprehensive but interested. Papyrus's hands are no longer clenching the steering wheel.

"My place. I've got handcuffs."

The kinky bastard shivers, and you laugh. "Hey, are you an actual detective or what?" Papyrus looks ashamed now.

"Yes." You chuckle and finish talking to your friend. Now they know where you're going and with who. Precautions.

"Alrighty, Detective. Let's get this show on the road, yeah?" He presses on the gas, and you watch yourself in the reflection of the glass window. His car is spotless and shined. This is sure to be an adventure.

Chapter Text

You slip inside Papyrus's car. It's fancy as fuck and has those buttons where you can save seat settings. You mash the third button, and the seat adjusts itself. The look he gives you is sultry, his eyes partially lidded. His coat is slightly disheveled from where you had moved it. His crisp shirt is wrinkled, and it makes you feel prideful. If things go well, they'll both be on the floor.

The detective frowns and moves his hand to his side. You cant see what he's doing since it's on the opposite side. He grumbles before placing something in the gap that forms the console. You glance over when you hear it hollowly thunk. Papyrus buckles up and your leg hits something cold. When you look to your right, you see your favorite drink. It's unopened. You toss your companion a knowing look.

"Breaking character, detective?"

Papyrus swiftly buckles up and huffs indignantly.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." You snicker and pop open the drink.

"Sure, sure. I have handcuffs at my place, by the way," He looks over at you and shivers. You laugh. He's such a cute bastard.

"Bought them last week. I figured you'd forget it for your costume. I like the storyline you had going." Your boyfriend inclines his head and taps on the steering wheel. His distal phalanges make a pleasant sound as they click. The best comparison you have is when someone clicks their nails on plastic.

"Thank you," he says, "were you surprised?" You're smiling to yourself as you look out the window. Papyrus pulls into traffic, pausing at a stop sign before heading for the next light.

"Thoroughly. When you dedicate yourself to a part, you do it flawlessly." You can see his reflection preen. Papyrus sits up a bit straighter and has a pleased little smile on his skull. "It was genius to use those kids down the street as 'criminals.' Good improv, but I have one criticism."

Papyrus pauses at a red light and looks over at you. The left turn signal is on, and the radio is playing quietly. "Is that so?"

You grin. It's a cheeky look. Papyrus gets that look of apprehension. He thinks you're going to do something chaotic, stupid, or worse, heartfelt. Too bad you already know his 'big bad' secret. This skeleton is a sap.

"You didn't kiss me for real." There's that smile of his again.

Your boyfriend affectionately rolls his eyelights and leans over the console. Recognizing this action, you meet him in the middle. The kiss is sweet, and magic buzzes against you pleasantly. Papyrus' bones are warm. When you pull away, Papyrus glances back at the road before leaning down again. You can't react fast enough. With a jolt, you feel a slight pinch on your neck. by the time you reach up to touch your neck, he's started turning the car. He just bit you.

"A preview of later. I did promise you wild and kinky sex."

Chapter Text

"Good Morning, Dear!" greets your husband. You smile and link an arm with him.

"How are you?" you ask. Moss smiles. It's a cute and lopsided one. His free hand comes up to caress your face. Even after all this time, he still pulls little stunts like this.

"Wonderful," he says. You smile and lean forward to press a kiss on his cheek.

"good morning."

The two of you turn to the third voice. It's your other husband, Hickory. He's slouched enough to tell you he's tired but not exhausted. Hick steps forward and nuzzles his skull into your neck. You press a gentle kiss to your short husband's skull. Moss gives his brother a warm half-hug, which is returned.

"How Was It, Brother?" Moss asks. Hick shrugs.

"not so bad. used lily flowers this time." He's referencing his work in the garden. The property of your land is huge and mostly hidden from mortals. You don't count anymore, not after being bound to two deities. Technically, the entire forest is your husbands' garden, but you know he's talking about the area close to the back of the house.

The house itself is a moderate size, built by the two skeleton brothers with their combined powers. You hadn't even been born yet when it was constructed. Now, you don't have to worry about missing anything else your boys do. You'll be here for it all and it's exciting for you. Eternity with your favorite people doesn't sound so bad.

"I'm sure it's beautiful," you compliment Hick. He looks down, a tad bashfully.

"thanks."

Moss jolts, seemingly remembering something. "I Forgot Something!" he says before pedaling off. You watch him leave, amused and used to his antics.

"here," Hick says while tugging on your sleeve. In times like these, your height difference means the world to you. It gives you a good vantage point. You can see his face as it changes with his emotions and even his skull crack. Every part of your husbands is beautiful. You love to look at them.

"What is it?" you ask, glancing down. Hick raises his curled hand and you lay your hand flat underneath his. Something a little wet and lukewarm touches your palm. It's a flower, a lily type you haven't seen before. Its veins are a pretty blue color, with lilac petals that turn into a silvery-blue color. The flower is ombre and shines like it's been coated with glitter.

"Oh, dear," your lips stretch wide. Hick flushes but looks up at you. He's still shy about his flowers. "It's beautiful, thank you. Will you put it on for me?" You bend over and lean your head towards him for emphasis. Hick gently sets the flower on your head, and you can feel his cool magic. Vines bloom and wrap around your crown, connecting to the bottom of the lily. You've gotten much better at feeling (and seeing, in a sort of plant-location-vision way) the boy's magic. You can detect their magics shape with your eyes closed. Helpful at night.

Delighted, you press a lingering kiss on his cheekbone. Loud footsteps clue you in on the arrival of Moss. "I Found It!!" he cries while holding up a picnic basket in a dramatic pose. You clap theatrically. A vine uncurls from the wall, disappears, and returns with a rolled-up blanket. You know it's comfortable from experience.

"we ready?" asks Hickory, looking from his brother to you.

"Absolutely!" you say, "this is so sweet guys, thank you!"

"Of Course!" Moss chirps. He grabs the blanket and hands it to Hick. Both of their free hands clasp one of yours. Today and the rest of your prolonged life is going to be good, you just know it.

Chapter Text

Your big boyfriend slithers into your home. He's off from work, and you can tell just how tired he is. Today was your day off, and you made sure to run to the store. Food is important.

"Hey, hun," you greet him. Hick rumbles a greeting noise at you, a close mix between a satisfied purr and happy hiss. You've never heard him use that exact noise the same for anyone else other than his brother. Moss is a dearheart, so you aren't jealous in the slightest.

"hey," he replies. The rest of his tail slithers up into the house fully and taps the door shut with its end. "Gotcha something" You mentally remind yourself to sweep off the ramp later.

"Awe, thank you! There's pie in the fridge." Hick snickers and smiles at you. It's a goofy smile, but you're sure an identical one spreads across your face. Being able to spend time with him is pleasant.

"you make it?"

"Good joke, babe. Did laundry today. I can run the dryer again, and we can nest?" His tail whaps against the floor. Sometimes your boyfriend is like a big scaley dog. It's cute.

"Stars, yes."

He slithers over to you. Hick is taller than you when he stretches to his full height, but right now, his back is hunched enough to make up some of the difference. You press a kiss against his jaw. Hick's cool arm bones wrap around you, scooping you up off your feet. He moves to cradle you to him (not unlike how one holds a toddler.) Your legs wind around his tail. Emotional support skeleton meets emotional support human.

"mmm, missed you," he says with his nasal aperture tucked against the crown of your head. He's cool, but not cold.

"Missed you more, bone baby. The pie is key lime, by the way." Hick purrs in appreciation and nuzzles your head. He likes pie, and you less work. Fridge pie is a win-win.

"run the dryer?" Hick asks. You pat him twice, your signal for yes. Hick sets you down very gently.

While he munches on some pie, you run the dryer and hydrate yourself. It's important to drink water and take care of yourself.

Hick gets on your case enough about your health. It's his way of showing care and love, other than watching you eat. Today must have been rough based on the way he's packing away the pie. You know that if he didn't have as much trust in you as he does, that he'd make you eat before he even touches food. Luckily, you've worked that out by sending him pictures of your meals. It keeps him satisfied and happy to know that you're safe. He sends them back, usually showing whatever 'gross' combination he's hooked on lately. His personal mission is to freak strangers out by eating what he damn pleases.

Hick doesn't bother with the dishes, choosing to enter the laundry room and rest his head on your shoulder. You enjoy the pressure and comfort of his closeness. The dryer dings and you take out the fluffy blanket from within it. The blanket is closer to a comforter in size. Hick makes a chirping noise. He's excited now, weariness from daily life draining. Maybe the florist needed him to work as the cashier today.

Hick speed-slithers from the room. You pull out the bed from your couch and start to arrange a nest. Your boyfriend returns with more blankets and one of your hoodies. He pulls a pillow out from under his ribcage, and you snicker. Both of you arrange the nest, and at one point, he plops you in the middle before continuing the task. You let him do what he needs to feel safe.

His instincts are soothed when you're at what he calls 'a comfortable state.' For Hick, that means lazy, and you're happy to indulge. You lay down comfortably, and he slinks onto the bed.

"startin' to smell like me too much," Hick explains before tossing your hoodie over your side. It lays across you like a small blanket. He cuddles close, and you get the message.

Hick drifts off to sleep with his skull tucked neatly against your sternum, his tail gently thumping every so often in his sleep. You know that your scent must be cocooning him based on what he's told you in the past. You get comfortable and watch Hick sleep.

Even if you don't rest just yet, it's nice to enjoy the view.

He remembers the shiny rock in his hoodie pocket tomorrow sheepishly. The pie and nest distracted him too much.

Chapter Text

It's late. You can tell based on the sight between your curtains alone. Your boyfriend rests in bed beside you, his rib cage rising and lowering steadily. Both of you have the day off tomorrow. It's peaceful. Little sounds filter in. You can hear the hum of his soul, a frog somewhere outside, and the low whoosh of your air conditioning.

Both of you spent a calm night together. You both ate a good meal, wished his brother well on his trip over the phone, and settled in for the night. Neither of you were tired, just mellow. Why do anything else when you could relax? Sometimes, these slow nights are scarce.

You must have fallen asleep at some point. It doesn't bother you. When you flip onto your side you get to see your boyfriend better. He's sleeping in a tank top and shorts. You know from experience that he's mostly likely tossed off one of his socks in his sleep. His feet tend to wiggle around while the rest of him lays still. He must have been in a slight slumber before his eyelight beams up. His eyelight goes fuzzy and large with recognition. Sans smiles at you. It's goofy and tired but still gives you the fuzzies. You inch closer and clasp his hand in between yours.

"Sorry," you whisper, "I woke you up." Sans rolls himself over onto his side. He nuzzles his skull into your hair. A satisfied purr rumbles through your shared bedroom.

"I'm glad. Missed you," he says. Sans' voice is as deep and clear as usual, but the relative silence stresses this. You nuzzle into his neck. Sans curls his other hand around your hip.

"But I was right here," you protest with a giggle. Everything is funny at whatever godforsaken time this is.

"mhm, you're right. Still good to be awake with you, though." You laugh into his bones and give him an affectionate smooch on his vertebrae, a show of affection. Comfortable silence stretches between you for so long that you think he's gone to sleep. Drowsiness bubbles up and threatens to drag you under.

"I wanna take your last name."

You almost miss what he says, processing it for a long moment. Both of you had discussed taking the next step but hadn't actually planned anything. It seemed like bad timing with his brother out of town doing mascot duties. You both knew he approved but wanted to wait for things to get less busy. You lean your head back far enough to look up into his eye sockets. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah. Beats the lame one I have now."

"Wouldn't you rather hyphenate?" He snorts, and it blows warmth onto your face from the magic in his very being.

"Nah. I like your last name better. 'sides, would you wanna add 'The Skeleton' to all of your documents? Too much effort."

"Ugh, the paperwork alone would be a nightmare. I would run out of characters on everything," you joke. Sans laughs silently.

"Do you mind if I take your last name?"

"Of course not," you assure him and rest your head under his chin. Sans' purr kicks back up.

"I can't wait," he says with a happy sigh, "gettin' to tell everyone that we're tied together for realsies? Never gonna get old. We could get matching... everything. Imagine the costume potentials." You hum encouragingly. Your boyfriend's bones are warm, and his voice vibrates through his rib cage. It's making you tired.

"S gonna be good," you mumble.

"Tired?" he asks. You hum and nuzzle closer for emphasis. He rubs your hip comfortingly under the covers. "Goodnight, love you." Getting sleepier by the moment, you reply in kind and drift off to sleep.

Sans kisses the crown of your head lovingly. "The best thing anyone could call me is yours."

Chapter Text

It's a cold night in Snowdin.

But you? You're not cold.

Tonight feels serene. You're comfortable, wrapped up in wordless affection and gentle companionship.

You feel the bones of your partner shift. When you glance over to check if he's okay, they smile at you reassuringly. His hand squeezes your leg gently.

He's fine.

The TV fades into background noise.

The snow is quietly falling outside.

He pulls the blanket you share up to cover you both further. For right now, you know everything is okay.

Nothing could ruin this moment.

Chapter Text

"I uh, I'm gay"

The customer in front of you looks pensive. You're sure that he'd blink if he wasn't a skeleton. He flips further in his wallet.

You're familiar with the good doctor by now. He's who you job shadowed once, and who you plan to do clinicals under in your medical program. You're semi-familiar with one another through the university. He's fond of doing workshops in exchange for favors from the professors.

"No problem, I have a daughter as well," he says before fishing out another photo from his leather wallet. It's a... picture of your crush. They're related. Holy shit.

"Oh my god, you're Sans' dad?!"

Gaster chuckles warmly and stacks more condiments onto the conveyor belt. The store is nigh empty, so you're not concerned about your workflow. The manager is on break anyways.

"You know Sans?" You blush and scan the items. Gaster is very perceptive so there's no use in hiding it. He'd grill you for the information until you broke, anyways. You wouldn't put it past the professor to guest speak for your classes to needle you afterwards

"... Yes. I uh, like her. A lot"

Gaster claps excitedly and whips out his card. When you prompt him, he swipes it to complete his purchase. "When can we expect you for dinner?"

You blink at the doctor, confounded. "Dinner?"
Had you missed an email or something? You know the doctor tends to have smaller events for networking and information.

Gaster takes the reciept before it can fall out of your hand. "Of course! I must admit that I didn't actually come here to set you up with my son, dear. He's happily in a relationship. I apologize for the deception but it is torture to hear Sans mope about her crush. She has your number, right?"

You nod dumbly. Gaster summons several disembodied hands that load up a cart. He stuffs his reciept in his wallet and tucks it away in his trench coat.

"Wonderful! I'll have her text you the details. Do inform her of your preferences and any possible allergies. I look forward to seeing her dance around you like a lovesick fool, ta ta!"

With that, the doc is gone, and you're left feeling blindsided in an almost empty grocery store.

What the hell just happened?

(At home)

Reader texts Sans: Saw your dad today. He invited me to dinner

Sans, running through the house: GASTER! WHAT DID YOU DO, YOU MEDDLING OLD MAN?

Gaster: Oh they smiled at me today, they texted me a funny meme, Oh I'm so in love, emotional angst sounds, yada yada. Sound familar? I did you a favor

Sans: DUDE

Gaster: You're their type, by the way... This is your cue to say "Thank you, Gaster for your wonderful perception and deductive skills."

Sans: oh my god they're coming for dinner. WAIT THEY SAID I'M THEIR TYPE? EXPLAIN YOU-

Gaster, walking away: Nope! Invite them or I'll do it again myself!

Chapter Text

"Oops fuck uh, you were not meant to see that. Haha. Shit. Don't scream!"

Holy shit. You blink. Blink again. You scrub your eyes with the palms of your hands. Nope, there's still a mutilated body.
"Damn, that's a lot of blood. Good thing I'm not squeamish."

Papyrus' browbones scrunch. He's baffled. Maybe it should bother you more to see your longtime friend (and more recently: crush) covered in.. someone's blood. Who the fuck even is that? "...Why aren't you screaming?

You shift your weight. "Do you WANT me to scream?" Sure, you just found out your best friend is a murderer, but that doesn't change your personality. He could have killed you long ago. Hell, he has the spare key to your place!

"...not right now. You do know I just killed that person, right?" Papyrus jacks a bloody thumb towards his victim. A splintered bone club has rolled into a pool of blood. It was dropped in shock when you walked onto the scene of the crime.

"I've seen some shit in my days. You know that. Why'd you kill them? Have you done this before? You seen experienced."
There's nothing amateur about the plastic tarp below the body or the medical supplies you know he keeps in a hazard bag. Hell, there's even a tarp on the wall, likely behind the victim when they were struck (based on the blood splatters.)

"They were in my way. That.. depends."

"Well, I'm glad I didn't get attached to them. Bullet dodged," you awkwardly chuckle and straighten your sleeves, "Seems like you overkilled them. Personal shit?

"This is so not a normal reaction," he says with the 'scolding maternal' voice. It's the same one he uses when you try to put off doing your laundry.

You sigh. "I know, but I can't really help it. Are you going to kill me now?" Yeah, you doubt he would considering your history, but you also didn't see THIS coming either.

Papyrus hits you with a loving expression, eyelights soft, and smile round. He steps closer to you, taking off his gloves and tossing on top of the corpse without even a glance. How callous that action was should bother you, but it only incites interest. There's more for you to learn about your best friend. He steps forward, formally in your space. "I could never. You're too important."

But awkwardness is steeped into your DNA.

"Oh, phew. Do you have a cleanup plan? Not trying to run off, but I could go for a meal right now." You sound a little breathless, even to you."

Papyrus glides his naked phalanges over your cheek tenderly, dragging them down close by your ear, until they rest on the curve of where your shoulder and neck meet. He's warm. It's a contrast to the quickly cooling body behind him.

"I do...Can I tell you something?" His voice is low, and it is doing things to you.

Against everything you've been taught, you lean into his touch.
"I just saw you murder someone, pretty sure we're beyond that. Knock yourself out, Pyrus."

"I killed them for you. I love you deeply and insanely. I want to keep you close to me forever, and I-I didn't want them to take you away from me. I understand if you hate me, but I really can't have you going to the cops."

Adrenaline rushes up from your feet, lacing your central nervous system. How overloaded are your receptors right now? There's still a lingering concern, curiosity, and a tiny bit of fear (so small, in the backdrop of Papyrus' warm touch.)

"For me?"

Papyrus sighs and it wafts over your face. You want him to do it again, but closer. "Yes."

It's second nature and pure wish-fulfillment when you flutter your eyes shut and press a gentle kiss to his skeletal jaw. He's still so handsome to you, even with gore smattering his third favorite pair of boots. He makes a startled noise, and the vibration makes your lips tingle before you withdraw.

Your eyes open. There's a flutter in your gut and a hum in your chest. The look Papyrus gives you could make you fall into a puddle right then and there. It's an expression that screams desire.

"What?" you ask, a little defensive. He's staring so intently. Papyrus presses his teeth to your lips, tugging on the slightly swollen flesh.

His words are dark and make you crave more of him. "Let's get cleaned up and go out for that meal. Then, we can come back, and I'll devour you on my bed. Sound good?"

Naturally, you can't say no to such a sweetly seductive promise. You want to be consumed.

Chapter Text

"Wonderful! You go get showered and changed while I deal with this," Papyrus says. He's elated, back to his usual cheerful self. You love this monster.

Giddy with your newfound... something with him, you press one last chaste kiss to his jaw, the highest you can reach on tiptoes. Papyrus growls deep in his bones. It's a predatory sound.

It's exciting.

You're planning what to wear when a warm hand palms your backside. You yelp and look back at Papyrus. He's the poster child of innocence. He is certainly the definition of 'could get away with murder.'

"You test my restraint, dear. If this continues, we may not make it to dinner.." Papyrus trails off and rakes his gaze over your body. You shiver and make your escape.

While Papyrus takes care of the remains, you shower.

Sure, a decent chunk of your clothes have migrated to his apartment, but that doesn't stop you from stealing one of his shirts. You tuck it into your pants for a 'comfy fit' look. Knowing Papyrus, he'll want to go somewhere halfway decent. Secretly, you press your nose into the collar of his top. It smells like him, and with his confession, you don't have to feel guilty about doing this anymore.

When you exit, there's no sign of your (boyfriends? love interests? Yanderes?) mess. Everything is spotless. No corpse in sight, minus your best friend. He smiles upon seeing you. How did he get everything clean so fast? There's nothing amiss, minus his outfit change. He's dressed up nicely, and you appreciate the view. His pants hug his form, and you haven't seen him wear a shirt that doesn't make his shoulders look fantastic. He could make a paper sack look tantalizing.

"Ready?" he asks. You give your outfit a cursory glance.

"Is it too late to change?"

Papyrus rises from his chair, uncrossing his spindly legs in the process. Hot damn he's tall. and sexy as fuck. Would it be so bad if you ate in?

"Yes, you already look stunning." He extends his arm to you gallantly. Well, if he thinks so, then that's all that matters.

He's crafty enough to get what he wants without lying.

Papyrus is a focused driver, and his eyelights hardly leave the road. Without looking away from the red light ahead, his hand finds your thigh and gets dangerously close to where you want him the most.

You arrive at a respectable restaurant. The two of you eat a pleasant meal, Papyrus opting for a vegetarian option. It's no accident how he licks his fork. His calf rubbing against yours must be on purpose. His fangs slicing into a butter slathered roll nearly makes you combust. He makes unfettering eye contact every time.

Well, you've slipped this far into hell. Why not embrace it?

You tell Papyrus you're going to the bathroom. He covertly (and smugly) asks if you're planning on letting off steam. You laugh and play it off. When you return to the table, he's none the wiser to your master plan. Silently, you slip your underwear from your pocket, hooking them around your leg's calf and planting your leg on top of his. He looks at you curiously, and you grin back at him unabashedly.

Papyrus almost jolts out of his bones when he looks down. Silently, you taunt him by wiggling your leg. He slips the underwear down your ankle and off your leg entirely. You withdraw and eat off your plate, the epitome of normal.

Moments later, you fake dropping an item under the table. When you glance up from the floor, you notice your underwear pressed against a very prominent bulge. Papyrus widens his legs for your benefit, giving you a show.

When you rise, dizzy from a sudden increase in arousal, Papyrus looks like a man starved. "I am going to fuck you so hard that you scream."

"Promise?"

Chapter Text

"Shoot!" you exclaim. Your dinner companion gives you a concerned look.
"What's wrong?"

"I dropped an earring. I think it rolled under my chair. I'd look for it, but with me wearing a skirt and all..."

Of all the damn things to happen tonight! At least it didn't land in your food. Stretch puts two and two together. If you bent over to search, you'd expose some bits of yourself (damn this table and your outfit.)

Stretch chuckles. "I got this one, babe. Hang tight."

He ducks under the table cloth and you realize what exactly you just served your boyfriend on a silver platter. You grip the edge of the chair tight. Stretch presses the earring into your hand, and you sigh out in relief. He isn't going to try anything. Stretch has a tendency to want to put you in risky sexual situations. It's high risk and high reward.

Then, you feel his hand slide up your ankle, digits caressing your calf and reaching up, up, up. Before he reaches the apex of your thighs, you swing your legs open. Take that, bastard. There's no way he saw that coming. You barely catch the sound of his raspy chuckle.

Well, this backfired.

At least he's fantastic at oral.

Chapter Text

The door clatters shut in a silent house. Mutt listened to the sound and waited. You had worked him up thoroughly before leaving for a 'quick store run,' which promised everything but being quick. Mutt's skeletal hands smoothed over his collar. The sheets were hot underneath him. His soul buzzed in his ribcage, and his dick was harder than a rock.

You had woken him up not too long prior with affectionate petting. Mutt was always putty in your hand, and sleep did nothing but exacerbate this. He grumbled a rough "morning, hun," to you just as your hand slid up his loose shirt. The collar of his shirt stretched from when you made room for your head to slot against his bones. Mutt had moaned gutturally when your teeth sank into his bones.

It was such a pleasure for you and sent a thrill up your spine when you earned pretty noises from your mate. He was your favorite treat.

"Please," he husked out. Biting got him going quickly. If he could, he'd probably keep your teeth on him forever. It made him feel wanted, desired, and turned on oh so much. You smiled at his plea and ground yourself into the tent in his dorky bone boxers. Mutt groaned and tried to grind upwards, but you were already gone. Confused, mutt lifted his skull to see you shuffling on your shoes and coat. 'be back in a bit, going to the store.' what a horrible fucking sentence, heh.

When you come back from the store (having genuinely bought things.) You shut the door quietly. You could hear the squeaking of your bed frame. Mutt had decided to take things into his own hands, then so to speak. Making an effort to be silent, you set down the bags and get comfortable. Since you already know where mutt is, you take your time. The sight you find inside your shared bedroom is a sight for sore eyes.

Mutt had shucked off his boxers and was humping a pillow. His elbows pressed it towards his groin. You watched silently. Mutt's left hand pressed your recently worn underwear to his nasal ridge. His panting was ragged, only to deterred when his right hand gave a rather nasty tug to his collar.

Oh, yes, his collar.

It was an improvement from the one he had before since you were his new 'owner' and all. (The transfer was the sole verbal approval you'd ever get from Sans, really.) The inside of the collar was soft, and the outside was a smooth false leather that matched your mate's magic, including the cock you could see pistoning into a pillow, your pillow.

Mutt was too lost in his throes to notice you naturally. You rectified this by sharply knocking on the ajar door. Mutt's skull whipped up, and his blown-out eyelights largened when he saw you. From this angle, you could see drool glisten on his teeth and jaw. Tears of neediness and desperation clung to the corners of his eye sockets. His hips humped the pillow uselessly. Your interruption had broken his focus.

With a grin, you entered and shut the door behind you loudly. Mutt shivered when you locked the door.

Chapter Text

"Mhmm, hey, love."

You mumble, half asleep and rousing quickly. "Sans?"

You crack your eyes open, blinking them until your vision clears. Your loving mate, Sans, is hovering above you in your shared nest.

"There you are," he says warmly. You smile up at him, mentally beating away your fatigue. Sleep can wait.

"Welcome home," you tell him.

He flops down, beside you instead of on top of you. This position lets him nuzzle his skull into your neck, where he says your scent is strong. You curl a hand around him, and he intertwines your legs.

This time, he didn't drag dirt or mysterious substances into your bed. For that, you are thankful. Your soul and heart sing in tandem, now that he's in your arms again.

"You ain't got a clue how good it is to see you in our nest, all comfy and cute," he rumbles into your neck. The sensation tickles and you laugh.

"The nests you make are the best. I'm glad you're home. How was the conference?"

Sans sighs and uses his left hand to play with the edge of your shirt. "Hell, but at least it's over. Now, I can cuddle my favorite human."

You smile and press a kiss to the top of his skull. "Just what the doc ordered huh, sugarskull?"

He huffs. "Yeah. Alp said I was driving her up the wall with my 'wistful sighs' and 'longing stares.'"

You laugh, able to picture that clearly. Alphys can take her work pretty seriously, although you wouldn't expect her down to business attitude at first. Until you get her in a lab full of chemicals or a preparation meeting for an important conference.

"Wanna sleep? I can make ketchup rice in the morning."

Sans groans "stars, please. Have I ever told you that I love you?"

"Hmm, maybe once or twice?" Sans nips you with his teeth in response. "Okay, okay. A few times." He soothes the spot over with a nuzzle.

You can feel your limbs sink into the plush bedding of your nest, the blankets still smelling like your mate, even after his trip away.

"Goodnight, sweetheart."

"Night, Sans."

Chapter Text

'Hope you're having a good day'

You open the text message right as your boyfriend sends an attachment. It downloads, and you're met with a smiling picture of Sans, he's curled up with your cat on the couch, and you can see a Netflix comedy special playing in the background. How the hell did he take that picture? His entire body is in the picture as if a second person had taken it. You chop it up to magic and admire the photo. Toffee, your baby, is in her 'donut form' on top of his ribs. He's wearing the cute star-patterned pajamas (you have a matching outfit.)

Ever since Sans and you had gotten close, way back before your relationship started, you'd developed the habit of sending pictures of shit during the day. Those things could range from weird products in stores to work pictures, and eventually photos that included yourselves in them. Once the dam opened and you gained Sans' trust and companionship, all bets were off. You texted him that you're about to fight behind a Denny's? Boom, he's there and ready to get your ass outta there.

He remembers the little things, and it's one of the things that fostered your romantic feelings for him. If he found out that you needed something, even if you mentioned it offhandedly, there was a decent chance it'd 'show up' one day. Since moving in, Sans and you had developed a well-oiled cohabitation. There was nothing you couldn't talk about. You'd hardly felt more comfortable with anyone in your entire life before. Sans is the type to hold your hair when you're sick and google how to help you afterward. He didn't care about morning breath, either. There's almost nothing that fazes him.

You text him back and send a picture of you, currently on your way to work. Sans rarely wakes up when you leave for the mornings, so he texts you when he does rise. Today is an early rise day for him, it seems. Toffee probably woke him. What a darling cat.

Later on, you check your phone while grabbing coffee with a co-worker, Elise. Sans had sent more messages. You open your texts with him.

'Thinking of you.' Sans had sent a bathtub selfie, with foam covering most of his ribs and part of his skull, shaping a beard. A rubber ducky floats in the foreground. He's making a cute face, and you wish you could press a kiss against his skull right now. At least his phone is waterproof.

Sans doing self-care is one of your guilty pleasures. You love a comfy and happy boyfriend. It's a change from what Papyrus told you about underground. Sans didn't do as many nice things for himself back then. Everyone's lives have improved since the barrier broke (that's what he said, anyway. You wouldn't know.)

You text back a photo of you with your warm drink, pulling (what you think is) a funny face. Now, to wait for the puns that you're undoubtedly about to receive.

You love that funky skeleton.

Chapter Text

"You are breathtaking."

The monster before you evaluates you with her eyesockets, roaming your body from foot to scalp. Her expression is nothing but flirty. She props a hand on her cocked-out hip, accentuated by the silky material of her dress. "Oh my, what a fearsome human. You must be here for my hand, yes?"

The other monsters in the underground had told you about the incorrigible queen (mostly her brother, who desperately needed a break and lunched with you.) "Your...hand?" Papyrus had said something about his sister being picky. Now, you can't match that description to the queen. ("It'd be just my luck if you were her type...Oh, the paperwork..")

"Yes, my hand! Why else would you have gotten past my security and traveled here? I don't get many visitors."

"I, well..how to word this..." you trail off, thinking about your purpose in being here. Papyrus himself had let you through the hall.

"No need, I can see it in your eye. Care for tea?" She walks onwards, and you see a table for two. You're not sure what you had expected, maybe someone who took their role a bit more seriously? An iron-fisted monarch? Not the queen sitting cross ankled and beckoning you forward with a dainty hand. All things considered, she is pretty. Her eyes look like the flame of a lighter amongst a dark pit. It threatens to draw you in and never let you go.

You submit.

She is delighted to see you sit across from her and immediately pours two cups of tea. The tea is hot (weird, considering how she had walked around you in circles, evaluating you and murmuring to herself for several minutes.)

"You wish to leave the underground," the queen says. Her face is serious, and it's the first time you've seen her make such an expression. Earlier, she had been bumbling with energy.

"It's complicated," you say. She says nothing, stirring sugar into her tea and watching the resulting swirls. "I have grown attached to everyone underground, and I'd much prefer it if we could compromise."

"You're suggesting we work something out to get what we both want?" Her grin is devious, eyesockets lidded. The movement of her hands draws your attention to the sharp points of her hand. She makes everything she says sound like a sinful promise. You're interested.

"Yes. What do you think?"

She sips her tea and does not answer you for several moments. Seeing her think this through so heavily, you can see just why she's the queen of the underground. The queen is calculating, mentally weighing pros and cons like sacks of flour. "I think we can find something suitable. In the meantime, make yourself at home in my castle. I don't make hasty decisions." (This, you don't doubt.)

Your heart thumps as she slides her hand over the table, palm up. There is no ring on the queen's fingers. "I look forward to.. working..with you." her voice sounds like pure sin, and you put your hand in hers anyways.

"We will find a way to free monsterkind from its prison, and I will do my best to" she draws in a breath, deep, and sighs out the next words, "get you all to myself."

It feels like an oath in the echoing hall of the throne room. The red flowers blooming from the floor itself sweetens the air.

Chapter Text

"Dearest.."

"No. no, I got it." In a twist of luck, you finally get the tie right. "There!" the silky material glides under your hands. you keep them planted against your husbands chest. "Be safe, kay?"

"I'm always careful," your husband softly reminds you. If you didn't know exactly how meticulous he is, you'd be concerned by his statement, taking it as sarcasm. No, Papyrus always is careful. It's a vital factor in how you've both managed to come this far. He swoops you up off of the stool you stand on, gently pressing you against him.

"You'll wrinkle your shirt!" you admonish him. He rolls his eyelights without malice and keeps you there, held against him.

"it'll get wrinkled anyway," he excuses as if he doesn't iron and carefully maintain his clothes. You balk and smooth his shirt down when he sets you back down on the ground. Even if you didn't iron it, that doesn't mean you can't take care of it.

"You better go if you still have that meeting."

He sighs and checks his pocket watch (him and his aesthetics.)

"It seems so. Sans has off today if you want to go out. I know how you dislike guards."

You smile. Papyrus, for all his dirty laundry, does care. "Thanks. I'm feeling takeout anyways. Do you need anything?"

"Cologne. I forgot some last time."

"Bone breeze or Ivory spice?"

Papyrus bends over to rub your head. "Surprise me."

Both of you stare at one another, knowing that you have to separate. Sometimes, plans change last minute, or there's a fuck up he has to go and fix. Today is not one of those days. You can take your time, even if but for five minutes. Neither of you makes a habit of saying those three words, but your actions say it enough. It is in the violets he buys on Fridays, his gentle touch, and how he cares for your safety.

"I'll make chicken parm tonight," you say. Papyrus strokes your cheek and gives you one last affectionate look. He'll put on his mask as soon as he exits the house. That's okay. You do it too.

"I'll be back. Don't let Sans slack off." Be safe is what he's saying. The door shuts, and the house around you feels desolate. You shake it off and search for your phone.

Sans owes you lunch anyway.

Chapter Text

You park your (slightly dusty) car in the gravel driveway of the Skelebros house. Their red truck is gone. Papyrus must be in town since you can see Sans working in the fields on his tractor. It looks like he's fertilizing the plants.

You watch him fondly, exiting your car and walking to his back porch. He's left his favorite jacket sprawled across the back of the porch swing. You slide it over and sit.

Sans either finishes his work or notices you sitting. Knowing him, it could be either or both. His work ethic has improved (according to Papyrus,) but you know he doesn't find labor thrilling. He sure does like the results, though.

"Hey," he greets you. Sans is wearing a cap, his white tank top, and those (fantastically) flowery pants of his. At least he wore work boots for the tractor.

"Hey, tractor boy," you tease. He snickers and rummages around in the cooler. You decline a drink when he offers. Sans chugs the water for a moment, and you watch the stray droplets travel. He finishes guzzling and smiles sheepishly, setting the bottle town and giving you his full attention.

"What brings yer pretty face 'round here?"

"Figured I'd come to see you. Been a minute."

Sans chuckles and looks at the fading bruise your shirt barely hides. The last time you'd seen each other, he'd given that to you. "You like my tractor?" he asks. It's a topic shift, but you welcome it. You'd been sure he'd tease you.

"I'm not big on machinery," you admit, "but I think you take good care of it."

Sans chuckles and leans into your space, eyesockets lidded and eyelights dropping to look you over. It brings a chill to your spine that can't be blamed on the weather. "'M sure ya'd be much more interested in somethin' else big and green instead. How about it, honeybun?"

You smile and look at him flirtatiously. It had been a minute since you'd seen each other, drawn away by life's responsibilities.

"I got a seat right here for ya if you wanna sit on my big green tractor." Sans smiles widely and laughs at your disgruntled face.

"Nope. Mood ruined. Shop's closed." You deadpan. Sans stops laughing when you cover his mouth with a nearby cushion. It leads to a pillow fight. Papyrus comes back from town to see you hysterically laughing at a rumpled Sans.

Oh, how the turntables turn.

Chapter Text

"You're kinda fucked up, ain't cha?"

You say nothing.
How had the monster in front of you picked up on your true feelings? Now that he knows, you wonder what he'll do. Make more scathing remarks, of course. He won't let you live down the way you shivered at the sight of him covered in (what looks like) blood.

It seems some monsters do have inner fluids.

Red doesn't drop the bloodied bone. Instead, he runs it across your neck. The breath in your throat catches. "Lucky for you, I'm into that shit. I would say I'm about to have a good time, but," he leans forward, making you press further into the wall. You can feel the heat of his magic when his tongue lolls out. "That's up to you, dollface."

The phone rings. Red grumbles and pulls out his phone, accepting the call with an agitated look.

"Lil' busy here." T

he loud pitched voice on the other end tells you that Edge is the one who called him. Red growls into the phone. You can't tell what his brother is saying. "Fuck that. Your rule is shitty. Bye." He hangs the phone up and tosses it onto the couch. "Now," Red says with a low tone, "Where were we?"

You're on your way upstairs when the front door bursts open. Edge stands there, looking at you two scathingly with his boot still held up in the air. He'd kicked it open.

"NOT WITHOUT ME, YOU DON'T."

Chapter Text

"You're doing so well, taking it." Papyrus pants above you. The slick sounds of his ecto dick fills the room, alognside your combined labored breathing.

"I love the way you let yourself go when you're like that. Being able to do this to and for you makes me so happy." His sweet words are accentened by his smooth thrusts. You writhe.

"I love having you on your back. You make the most wonderful expressions."

More thrusts, and the warm press of his loving hands on your sides. He nuzzles your face.

"I love you, darling. Cum for me, please."

You do, and then he begins building you up to the next one all over again.

Chapter Text

"I-I can't kill another human. I can't do this. I'm sorry."

You watch the mighty king, full of bravado and good posture, crumble to his feet.

The golden flowers of the throne room look like they're for mourning in the soft light. It adds to the cruelty.

Of this situation.

Who he is.

Who you are.

What is at stake?
Everything is.

"You need to." You're not entirely sure why you say it, other than it's the truth. How else will he replace the soul lost when the last human left? How they had promised to return but hadn't, for three years now?

The rest of the underground is sad. They treated you decently but with great hesitance. If Frisk left, why wouldn't you? There's no use.

They'd already been let down, once, and left grief-stricken.

No, it's safer at a distance.

A skeleton, harried with smudged something (ink, maybe?) across his jaw had let you through the judgment hall. You'd killed no one. He looked tired.

You don't know his name.

There's only one name you know.

Papyrus. The reigning monarch, who took the helm after the murders of his fellows.

He looks less majestic now, even in his armor and crown. It looks heavy on his skull.

"I know," he replies after so long you had forgotten you had spoken at all.

The flowers don't change, even when your encounter does. You consider your options. There's only one.

Mercy

Chapter Text

"See what happened was-"

"Your biological mother promised me her firstborn, but then got a witch to cast a notice me not until your eighteenth birthday. So I couldn't find you. But now I have."

"I'm a witch who she ALSO promised her firstborn. She got my ugly ass sister to cast the curse and then didn't say shit. So I cursed her for not paying up. That's why she's so discontent with her life, if she isn't dead already."

"She's very dead," the demon pipes up.

"I think I need a moment." You slide the backdoor open, crossing over to your cooler and grabbing a cold low alcohol margarita mix.

"I know you have your own father already. Just think of me like an uncle, or something!"

You look up at the goopy monster hanging upside from the roof of my porch. "Right okay. Uncle goop." He chuckles.

"You remind me of my youngest, a bit, but my eldest too. I'd think you'd get along."

You picture it, two other gooplike creatures with flat, round faces and goofy looking eyes. "You have children?"

"Oh yes. They're quite older than you in literal years, but close enough developmentally."

The robed figure silently enters, robes swishing around them. No feet in sight. They sit down across from you. Uncle goop rightens himself, plopping down with the noise you'd imagine jello does on wet cement.

"How you doin?" The witch asks "Call me riverperson. I ain't ya mama, no offense. More like an aunty kinda situation. Don't call me uncle."

"None taken. Im a bit old for new parents."

"Very true," gaster pipes in, "think of us like your..friendly neighborhood supernatural monsters!"

"Right. Okay," you agree, "what do you want with me?"

"Why! To teach you, of course. And marry you to one of my sons. Perhaps both?"

You spit out your margarita mix on reflex. Damnit! You liked that flavor. Riverperson snorts. "At least your sons are likeable. Good luck getting the short one to do shit, though."

"What the fuck?!" You exclaim. Goop shrugs, black mass giggling along, minus the bit that ripples on the ground.

"They've never been interested in anyone long term, especially Sans. My original plan was to have you as an apprentice of sorts, and make the introduction to see what happens when you reached a good age. We'd have traveled. My boys are so busy these days. They have no time for my antics."

"Sans does various jobs and is in a comitted relationship to any surface he can nap on."

Goop chuckles, flicking a dark look to riverperson. "You don't know my son very well."

"Okay! If this fucked up family thing is going to work, we're not doing this passive aggressive bullshit. Leave that shit outside." To stress the point, you walk inside, slamming the sliding door as you do so. It's a wonder of a stress relief that doesn't involve laughing so hard you lose your voice.

What the fuck have you been roped into?

Chapter Text

You blink your eyes open. The ceiling is smooth. Not popcorned.

"God damnit." You have a test today. Then you remember it's a math test.

"Fuck yeah!" in your enthusiasm you end up almost falling off the bed.

It's okay, though, since it's just a mattress resting flat on the floor.

As per usual when this happens, you stretch your bones. They groan and pop, some gently and others not so much. Woof. Looks like it was a bad two weeks for Sans. You shamble over to his dresser. There's a grit to his joints that makes you sigh. When was the last time Sans washed?

Taking care of Sans comes easier to you than yourself. You'd worked out an agreement of sorts. Sans helps your body relax, and you help him get his shit together. Both of you are beyond the point of shyness, working out a communication system. It'd started as hastily scrawled sticky notes and turned into a shared planner (calendar included.) You grab some clothes from his dresser. Most of them are familiar, except for the new shirt on top.

'Top text' looks like it'll land below his collarbone, and 'bottom text' above where his (your?) navel would be. Perfect.

You grab a random pair of briefs and shorts. Sharing a body every so often breeds that level of familiarity. As you shuck off his (gross) socks, you flip through the planner. New addition.

'Hot dog stand today. Went to Grillby's yesterday. Leftovers in the fridge. Avoid telescope in waterfall. Whoopee cushion under the right couch cushion. Sorry.'

He isn't just sorry for the potential fart prank. But that's okay. You'll give him the hookup. A love letter of sorts. Sans will wake up comfortable and (hopefully) less stressed in his made-up bed. You'll get a good test grade and amazing hair. Sans loves treating your hair like a prized Purina dog show winner.

You pull your soul out of your chest on the way to the bathroom, looking at its shape. It's much harder to do so in your other body, but it is possible. Something about his mana channels, or something? You'd asked once and gotten a lot of things you couldn't understand. It'd taken three sticky notes.

One refreshing shower later, with clean clothes, you polish Sans' skull, dab on a faintly minty cream, and walk downstairs. Papyrus takes in your (his) appearance.

"HELLO AGAIN, NOT-QUITE-BROTHER!" You giggle, something you can't picture Sans doing without a pun or prank involved. It's what makes you different. You sit down at the table, knowing this song and dance already.

"Good morning, Paps! Wonderful as always to see you, sugar skull." Papyrus beams and slides you over some dinosaur oatmeal. You dip a spoon in appreciatively. "Thank you."

"OF COURSE! SANS DID TELL YOU HIS WORK SCHEDULE, YES?" You nod. Papyrus scurries about the kitchen. He's already eaten based on the bowl he dries. "I AM RECALIBRATING MY PUZZLES AND GOING SHOPPING LATER. WOULD YOU LIKE TO COOK TOGETHER, LATER?"

"Absolutely. I can tell you about this funny thing that happened to me at work, too. I know you've gotta run, so I'll tell you later."

"CONSIDERATE AS EVER. IT SUITS YOU BOTH. TAKE CARE!" Papyrus scoops you into a hug, deposits you back into your chair, and leaves. You smile to yourself.

Sans is going to lose his shit when he sees how clean you're about to make his room look. Today's hot dog menu: pigs in a blanket. Tonight, you'll teach Papyrus a family recipe (tailored to the underground's ingredients.)

One day, they'll be free, and you can do this song and dance for real. You can already guess Sans is about your height, if not shorter. Papyrus is going to be taller than you no matter what.

You can't wait to show them the stars.

Extra:

Sans rolls over, smacking the floor with a groan. Except, there's a stray cushion there to break his fall. You'd come prepared.

Once Sans told you about his HP, you practically baby trapped the house. It was endearing in a way. Your body (that he's piloting) is wrapped up in cozy pajamas. He leaves them on. With a glance at the planner in your nightstand, he determines it's your day off.

Perfect. He's got time to play a fuck ton of portal. After breakfast, though. You keep the good shit: microwavable Eggo waffles.

He shrugs on a spare coat in your closet and tucks a sharpie into his pocket for later. Might as well leave you with a surprise on your wrist to wake up to.

Sans draws an anthropomorphic hotdog with sunglasses and an ass. In retaliation, you fill the toe of his slippers with something similar to packing peanuts.

Quid pro quo motherfucker.

Chapter Text

"Aww, does someone want to cum?

The skeleton before you whimpers. The ecto in your hand throbs. You smile and let it go, returning your hands to the iliac crests. "If I knew you'd like this so much, I'd have treated you like this sooner. You look so pretty like this."

And he does. His skull is flushed and tossed back with blown-out eyelights. The finest painting you've ever seen. Then there's the ball gag keeping him from forming words. You slide your hands up above his sacrum, twisting around his lumbar before brushing his lower ribs. He keens when your flesh makes contact with his summoned magic. A product of how much you'd worked him up, but never over.

"I think you've earned it, pretty boy."

His legs tremble just a bit more, you think.

Chapter Text

"Fuck that. Uh uh." Riverperson steers you away from the (very old-fashioned) dress uncle goop holds up.

"Why not? It's a suitable outfit! The color matches your eyes well, dear."

You grimace, looking at the offending clothing article. "No offense, unc, but that is horrendous. The color is on point, though. Maybe something from this century?" Goop tsks but dismisses the outfit. You've become adjusted to his reality-bending powers.

Riverperson in all their cloaked glory floats over to your door. They grab your wallet and steer you outside. "We're going shopping. A paper bag would be more attractive."

Uncle goop visibly deflates, so you call out to him before the door shuts. "I'll pick up some Cheetos!"

Riverperson and you galavant through town for over an hour. Their enthusiasm is abundant, which fits their mysterious appearance like a snake to a freezer. They do have a good eye for deals, though, and haggle over any imperfections. You get a ten percent discount from one store, and you suspect it's because they just wanted to get rid of you.

Either way, goop enjoys the Cheetos and forgets all about the (cursed) dress. They both retire for the day and leave you be for a peaceful night. Riverperson tired you out.

Chapter Text

"What about this one?" you lift up the item in question. Papyrus carefully places his own cargo back in the shopping cart. He takes the squishy cactus from your offering hands. The squeeze he gives the cactus reminds you of where his hand had been previously in the day.

Your lover is tactile, much to his chagrin at the start of your relationship. It's cute how he mindlessly brushes your shirt off, rests a hand on your shoulder, or finds your hand while walking. His arms are long enough to make up the difference. Then there are the not-so-innocent touches.

"This is...a very cute one," he concludes. His excitement is consciously kept to a low. Likely due to the other occupants of the store. It's not as empty as he prefers. You know he'll give you the signal if he needs to leave, though.

You smile and eye the other stuffie in the cart. It's the axolotl you picked out. "We have fantastic taste. Want to hit up the food aisle next, dear?"

Paps carefully places the plush into the cart, next to your chosen stuffed pal. He lovingly brushes invisible dirt off your shoulder. You push the cart since it makes him hunch uncomfortably when he does it.

"Parmesan chicken tonight?" he offers. You bump your head against his arm affectionately.

"Music to my ears."

The stuffed animals are placed onto your shared bed at home. Buying them was the best idea of the day, besides parmesan chicken. Paps is a fantastic chef.

Chapter Text

"...This is the thing you left to pickup from the 24 hour walmart?"

Blue shimmies in place, flushed and antsy. "Yes....?"

"Well. You have dedication, considering it's," you pause and check the kitchen clock, "2am. You're going to be extra tired tomorrow, dude."

Even with his training, Blue still has a tendency to sleep during the day if his schedule falls out of wack. It's why he's usually careful about his sleeping habits. Hence your concern and growing curiosity. What was worth the trouble? You idly wonder if he teleported. What's one more out of character activity?

"I know, but! I was getting a drink of water and saw the notification for the arrival. I may have bent my usual rules. But it's for a special reason." You smile. Blue is so cute. His enthusiasm can get the best of him. One of the things you love about him.

"That makes me feel better. You're not you when you're hungry. Whoops. Wrong commercial!" Blue isn't tricked by your 'slip up.' He belly laughs and sets the box on the table. You press a kiss to his jaw. The box is as as normal as can be. No secrets learned.

"You look tired, dear. Why don't you go to sleep? I'll be up in a sec." You nod and take his advice. It is late.

You're half-asleep when Blue snuggles up to your backside. He curls up his hands so they rest between your back and his chest.

In the morning, you notice the box open on the table. Sans must have cut the tape off and left it that way. The objects inside it stand out to you even a few feet away.

It's....entirely filled with rubber chickens. All the same design. The urge to press on the pile and listen to the ensuing chaos rises.

You can't wait to prank his brother.

Chapter Text

Hick was surprised when you invited him over. He'd been sure that you'd abandon him in exchange for his "cousins," but you were always the observant sort and more open-minded than most. Of course, you wouldn't abandon him. You didn't leave him when he told you about his past. Why would you now?

Moss was anxious about it too. He'd confessed to Hick that he was worried you'd want the "better" version of him. Creampuff isn't broken.

But then you didn't.

You'd still smiled at them like you used to. Plus, you don't hug any of the other brothers. You're taking your time warming up to the others. Likely due to the way they'd treated the brothers you'd befriended first.

Their isolation from the main house kept you from the others for so long. You'd noticed.

Maybe that's why you always seemed to be making meals from bags and boxes. The kind that are quick to make. You'd brought them over in several buckets, apologizing for the lack of quality. Then you'd helped them get signed up for local food aids. Hick had been hesitant, but he knew you wouldn't put them in a dangerous situation. It wasn't in your character. Hick doesn't need soul vision to know that.

The bags still stuck out to him. Garlic shells. Chicken. Something spicy. Various flavors. Surfacing (even in a different universe) has opened him up to tasting again. He's healed about as much as he can. Skull is still cracked, though. That's not changing.

That's okay.

You never seemed to mind once Hick told you it's an old wound. He knows you have some of your own. Both physical and not. It's the same for him and his brother.

Hick had expected one of those fast meals. It made sense. He and his brother ate more than the average monster, let alone human, especially in this universe.

Imagine his surprise when the smell is different. He notices immediately when he opens your front door. Hick doesn't worry about it, but he makes sure to make noise when he enters. No use in scaring you out of your skin. He finds you in the kitchen, skin dewy from the steam that flows around the room. You're wearing a nice outfit. It looks comfy.

That's one of the things he likes about you, how you have tendencies towards comfort. If he's honest, Hick would say he finds it attractive. It's written in his journal. As if he needs a reminder. You jog his memory all the time. It's a wonder your legs aren't tired from it. Hick snickers.

"Hey," you greet Hick with a smile he wants to fold into his pocket for forever. "I'm about to plate this if you wanna take a seat."

Hick takes the invitation. You're comfortable with each other. He sits on your counter, swinging his legs back and forth. It reminds him of the peaceful moments in Snowdin when he could take a break from hunting to scout from a tree branch. Now he can climb roofs for that.

True to your word, you plate up two plates. One has a larger portion. Hick feels his grin. He rambles through your drawers for the utensils, only needing to open one before he finds the correct drawer. Hick's mind is elsewhere, focused on the way your form bends.

You beckon him over, saying something he doesn't quite catch. It's fine. Hick sits across from you. The food smells good and looks..different from your usual. In a good way.

"I added bacon and some herbs to it. I know it's not Paps' cooking, but I hope it's okay. I'll send the leftovers home with you."

Hick feels his soul throb. It's a gooey feeling. You always know what to say. He loves listening to you speak. Or do anything really. Hick enjoys any time he can spend with you.

Chapter Text

"MY TASTE IS MORE REFINED," Edge proudly proclaims before mashing the play button. He looks smug and oh so proud of himself.

Blue watches on, confused, from the yard. Papyrus (still holding a training baton) taps a foot to the beat. Black is scowling from the kitchen window. Mutt is still inside working on his speedrun. Stretch is asleep on a lounge chair, working on his bleach. You laugh from the passengers seat, but it's drowned out by the music.

Red looks like his ribs are going to collapse from holding in his laughter. His beat up radio jangles in his grip. It was playing 'Shut Me Up.' Now? Might as well be nothing compared to the bass in Edge's car booming.

You're not sure how well 'Son of A Bitch' pairs with a black Dodge convertible. It's on brand for Edge, at least.

Chapter Text

The package on your doorstep was innocuous, so you left it on your kitchen table with the rest of the mail. It must be something you ordered and forgot. You'd jog your memory when you open it.

After a meal and some other tasks, you open the mail. Bills and coupons later, you reach the box.

What lays inside confuses you greatly. It's a beautiful woven choker. the pearls feel heavier than the ones you're used to. The choker is fitted with a heart pendant. The stone is an amber color, outlined with small gemstones.

So why is it here? You don't remember this at all.

You check all of your order and search history. Nothing shows up concerning the choker on your table. The label on the box tells you nothing. You ask the neighbors if they'd been missing a package. No dice.

Weird.

Another package arrives a week from them. It's a rose broach, the color a deep red. You check the same things as last time. Nothing conclusive. Someone is sending you these gifts. But why?

It sets you on edge. You become very thorough about your security, walking to the parking lot with a coworker, staying near your phone always, and triple-checking windows and doors.

Weeks pass. Nothing else happens, and you forget about the packages. You'd moved them to your jewelry box. What else were you to do with them? You feel less like someone is stalking you and more like someone sent things to you accidentally. Possibly an error. Twice.

Another one shows up with a card. This time, it's a fragile-looking chained silver bracelet. On it dangles a heart with vine-like details. It's topped off with a small sapphire blue bow that decorates the heart. Anxiously, you open it.

'Please accept this.'

Short and to the point. But why?

It is a pretty bracelet. You go to a dressy event as a plus one and wear it since a friend insisted it would be perfect for you. It's been days. You carry various self-defense items in your bag. There's a can of pepper spray hidden on your person. Other than your friend, you don't know anyone there.

Some fizzy drinks later, and with encouragement from your pal, you end up dancing with various people and monsters. In the morning, you remember the scent of something sugary, a bubbly voice (you think they were short, too), and whispered compliments.

In short, you had a wonderful time.

Today, you have a headache and sore muscles. It was worth it. You think you might go again next time.

There are three individual bouquets on your doorstep; Red roses, buttercups, and bluebells. You bring them all inside and check the cards.

The red roses: a flirty statement. The buttercups: a thank you for the dance. The bluebells: an offer for a date.

You worry and call your friend. She picks up on the first ring. "Found the flowers? Who am I kidding? Of course, you did."

"What?"

"The bouquets, of course. So, who do you pick?" She sounds hopeful.

"I'm confused," you say.

"Y'know, which guy. C'mon you just saw them last night! Don't tell me you forgot." You pause and think about the few things you remember after you visited the bar. Next time, you'll be sure to watch your drinking.

"I don't remember much."

She sighs. "I'm not too surprised. Someone extra spiked the drinks. Anyways, there are these guys I know, and you know, but forgot. They all like you! It'd be weird if they had your address, so I delivered the flowers for you. Didn't they leave cards?"

"....None of them left their names or numbers."

"Damn! Should have figured. They're competitive bastards. Gotta love them, though. Even the wifey likes 'em." You chuckle. 'The wifey' hardly likes anyone.

Then you remember.

"Wait....were they the ones behind the jewelry?!"

She starts cackling so hard you have to move the phone away from your ear.

"YEAH! You just figured that out?!"

"MAYBE," you reply. "How do they even know me?!"

"OH MY GOD, YOU DON'T REMEMBER. THIS IS HILARIOUS." You're pranking her for this later. "You met them before! At that party at my place, and then after that during anime night!"

Sugar smell... short and bubbly... that voice whispering in your ear. Plus, the colors.

"HOLY SHIT. YOU MEAN THE SKELETONS?!"

She doesn't let any of you live it down for weeks.

Chapter Text

Your eyes itch, and the urge to run back to the ruins haunts you. Someone is watching you. Their gaze is an almost palpable presence on your spine.

Almost two weeks ago, you'd fallen underground. Luckily, you'd been on your way to a costume party with a bag full of makeup, a costume, and an extra set of clothes. You'd planned to spend the night at a friend's house.

Back to the present, you move up in line. Now you're at the counter. A haggard-looking bunny takes your G (fished up from around the Ruins and Snowdin.) It's only enough for a new tunic and bottled Waterfall water. Posters of bunny-shaped treats peel from the wall. You wonder how the underground looked like before the resources became tight.

You haven't resorted to monster... yet. For now, you survive off of flowers, water, and fallen animals. Toriel has taught you how to forage, among other things. She's a great teacher. The makeup currently caking your face feels thinner than usual. You can't wander into Waterfall much. It's wet, and the monsters there are more bloodthirsty. They get hotland residents, too, which are the worst.

Snowdin has natural resources. Hotland doesn't unless you count air and dirt. You've heard the tales of a lizard creature going haywire, running about covered in dust. No thanks.

Your makeup supply won't last forever. Eventually, you will have to switch over entirely to flower paste or whatever you can scrounge up. Toriel has been working on a bow for you.

Neither of you talk about how this disjointed peace you have will eventually end. If she dusts, you won't be able to hide your scent outside of the Ruins.

The poncho she lets you wear (and subsequently scents regularly) is warm and comfortable. It is also larger than you and hides your body. Then, there are your gloves (from an old-looking chest. They were originally much too big for you.)

You exit the store and wander about the forest. Your goods are in the rucksack you wear. If you're lucky, you can catch an animal with your spear. The bow isn't finished.

Crunching sounds are what first alerts you. Then, right after your feet locked in place, a chuckle. They aren't trying to be sneaky. You turn on your heel, raising the spear to defend yourself.

No encounter starts. You grit your teeth. This could be bad. Maybe you'll scare this monster off like you did the others. "Can I help you?" It doesn't sound pleasant as it tumbles from your lips.

The skeleton monster stares at you, not taking the hint. You watch their sole pupil roll around. They take you in from toe to hood. You grip the spear tighter.
Dread blooms in your chest when you hear a long inhale. The logistics escape you. When the skeleton takes a step forward, you take one back.

In a flurry of movement, they shove you into a tree, caging you in with their body. Something metal thunks into the tree next to your head. They inhale again and rake their eye over your body. You shiver. The spear is on the ground, too far away for you to grab.

"Treat..." the monster mutters. They have a deep voice. You thrash back and forth when their hand travels down your torso. "Soft..." Instead of plunging their hand in your chest, they rub their hand on the poncho. You try to hit them, but they hold you down like it's nothing.

"Stop." They growl next to your ear. You freeze when something wet touches the sensitive skin of your neck. The poncho had moved just enough to show skin. Fuck, they're gonna-!

The monster leans back. There's no pain.

"Run back home...little lamb...I'll see you...later."

Chapter Text

Red watches you laugh and knock back a drink. It feels like watching something secretive. You're only like this at certain times. He hasn't figured out the pattern, yet.

What he has noticed is that you're a bubbly drunk. The kind to joke around and giggle. It looks nice when you smile.

Too bad you're not smiling at him right now. But he knows he'll try to get close to you some more.
Maybe you'll smile that widely sober, one day. Red is determined to see it.

Little does he know: you've noticed him too.

Chapter Text

Red grasped your collars leash in one hand. The other held onto your thigh, not drawing blood, but carefully resting there. His hips jacked up in a steady rhythm, sending his cock in and out of you.

"S so good. Please, please, please," Red pants.

His quick movements remind you of how he'd squirmed under your knowing eyes several moments before. You'd already been worked up from how you'd teased him all afternoon. Feeling rather devious, you throw your weight to the side, taking him with you.

Red keens, desperate for friction and rhythm.

You're not done with him yet.

Chapter Text

"....Why aren't you drowning right now?"

You laugh in the metaphorical (since you're on the high ground) face of the siren. "I'm demisexual, broski. Find other prey." The siren deadpans. They're beautiful, you suppose, in the way a painting is beautiful. Nothing about them tempts you to cast off your clothes in the slightest.

"....What is that? Your species?"

Oh boy. Here it goes. You huff. "It means you can't tempt me. See ya."

"Wait!" they grab onto your pants leg desperately. You pause. It would suck if they yanked you into the water behind you. At least you have a lifejacket on. Still, you'd gotten a glimpse of those sharp teeth. They could tear you to pieces if they had such a desire. Maybe that's why you decide to humor them. You turn around and face the siren again. They're deceptively round and friendly-looking, minus the teeth and retractable claws. The worst enemy is the one you underestimate. The siren looks at you with desperation in their blue gaze.

"If...I don't tempt you, then.. could you come again?"

Ah. fuck. Your intuition isn't acting up, and the siren has an earnest expression. Their eye lights seem to sparkle in their sockets. It could be just them in this small lake if they're this desperate for socialization.

You sigh. "Sure."

They liven up, beaming at you. The fins on their head flap slightly, and the siren lets go of you. You can see their tail splash from behind them. It gives them an innocent aura, much like a dog presented with a treat.

"I'll go prepare! See you soon!" And then the siren is gone, sinking below the water past your range of sight.

Chapter Text

"When the people in my family turn thirteen, we undergo a weird phenomenon. It's called a savvy. We have to keep a lid on it. That's why I'm telling you now."

The skeleton in front of you shifts in place, awkwardly thumbing a hole in his shorts. "So like....magic?"

You shrug. "That's my best guess. I don't fit the bill of a mage, though. I can't do any colored magic. Just my savvy."

"So what is it then?" he asks.

"I can see the worst thing people will ever do to me."

Stretch locks in place. "Shit...that's-"

"Yeah," you agree, smiling without happiness. "It can suck, but I guess it pays off. Helps me sort out bad eggs. Bittersweet, though."

"What's mine?" he asks while fumbling for a lighter in his pocket. You hand him one off the table.

"Hurting my feelings," you tell him honestly. Stretch's shoulders slump, but his expression tightens. "Not the worst I've seen, trust me. It's what most of the people I'm close to show."

You don't tell him about the weirdest ones you've seen. The scariest one was 'murder' hovering over a dude's head when you stared at him juuust long enough for the reading to pop up. You'd gotten off the bus early (following two construction workers) and called a friend, keeping to populated streets. There are flukes like that, sometimes, events that you evade.

A few of them have changed, too. Mostly the ones of strangers. A lady went from 'Mildly inconveniene' to 'nothing' at a grocery store when she declined singing up for a rewards card.

Stretch's had changed from 'Break heart' to 'Hurt feelings' during your first bonding moment. It's was when you allowed yourself to open up to him more. The sunset was beautiful from the view of the skeleton's porch. You hadn't considered acting on your feelings until that exact second. Stretch beat you to it by blurting his feelings out while playing a co-op game together on the couch. You'd never seen his skull so orange.

Blue's read 'Trip.'

Chapter Text

"Some guy is bothering your sister." Those are the words that set your soul on fire.

"Who?" you practically bark. Your classmate nods at the back of the room. Shit, you shouldn't have come to this party. She had brought out the doe eyes, though. At least you got her to agree to no alcohol for her safety. That didn't stop you from drinking that spiked punch, though. At least you have her to drive you both home.

"The freakish guy in the corner," your classmate says. Your eyes squint and scan the area. Where's your sister? You watch the males in the area, comprised of various monsters and humans. Suddenly, In what feels like a stroke of luck, your sister turns around a corner. You watch her chat to a skeleton monster before slinking away to the food bar. Well, your classmate isn't the most open person, so you assume they meant the monster. After all, who else had your sister been chatting with?

You catch her eye and try to wave to her, but that skeleton comes back over to talk to her. Fucking hell. You watch your sister's body language (trying to read into every minute detail with blurred vision) and decide that enough is enough. The alcohol in your system does nothing to help your mental faculties. With thankfully minimal stumbles, you angrily stomp over to the two. "I swear to fuck, if you do anything to my sister, I will shove my entire foot up your ass." Elegant words. Poetry that you could hang in a museum.

Wow, the room sure is spinning! Your sister chuckles awkwardly and takes your drink from you, setting it down somewhere you cant see. "Okay, someone has had enough to drink," she says. You stumble a little when she straightens your shirt.

Embarrassment floods you. "This guy isn't bothering you, is he?" She shakes her head, and you groan into your hands. The skeleton your sister had been chatting to looks amused.

"Fuuuuck. I'm sorry. Last time I trust anything Clarissa says."

Your sister chuckles and elbows your side. "They're single, and not usually this awkward, I swear. Later!" Then she abandons you to chat to a shorter skeleton.

Awkwardly, you finger wave to the tall one in front of you. "Heh, Hi. Sorry about that, again." You introduce yourself by name.

"Papyrus. You two related?" Understanding strikes you like a lightning bolt.

"Motherfucker!" you groan into your hands.

Of course, she'd want you to come to this party. She'd been making comments about how well you'd get along with her friend Papyrus. You'd turned down a blind date, citing numerous excuses. She just had to find a way around your stubbornness to push her own. Papyrus grabs an unopened water bottle from the food table. "You look like you could use some air."

Your sister doesn't come back for another thirty minutes. What you don't know is that she sees you animatedly talking to Papyrus through a window and smiles to herself. It looks like she was right, after all.

Chapter Text

"Call me sunny."

"That's neat. Is it because you wear orange and yellow a lot?"

A wistful smile from the also slightly inebriated being before you. It's surprisingly not loud in this pub. You like it.

"Maybe. I've never asked. What about you?"

You chuckle. "It's more fun than meaningful. People call me Cupcake."

"Cupcake?"

"I bake them often and bring them in for birthdays at work. Once, my boss accidentally said 'Thank you, cupcake', and it's never been let go of."

"Wow. Does it annoy you?" He swirls his martini around, likely just fiddling. You've seen the guy do that for the few minutes you've been chatting like this. He seems like the type of guy to have lots of friends. At least, that's your impression. He feels....responsible, somehow.

"No. I didn't let it," you respond. He smiles and sips from his class. Unconsciously, you mirror his action with your poison. You decide this is your last drink. It's a good thing you have the uber app.

The rest of your evening continues similarly. Sunny opens up to you more. His smile and laugh are the most attractive things you've seen all day, but you keep that to yourself. It's getting late, now. You know you should be going...

"Hey," Sunny's voice cuts through your thoughts. "You keep looking over at the door like it's your designated driver. Everything okay?"

"Yeah. It's just..." You trail off, looking into the face of a person you don't know well, but feel like you can't walk away from just yet. "I've had a nice time."

He smiles, full teeth grinding. You think he could fit in magazines. He'd be perfect on the cover. There's just something about Sunny. "Me too. I know we just met and all, but," Sunny starts rustling through his orange coat pocket. He's wearing a shirt that reminds you of those patterned cups from the 90s just in aqua and yellow. His pants match his coat perfectly. If it wasn't for the change in talkativeness, you'd assume he was sober right now. That and the delightful flush to his cheekbones.

"I'd like to talk more, sometime. If that's okay with you." Sunny holds his phone out to you. There's a space for your number and name. You save your number under 'Cupcake.' He sees it and chuckles. "I'll call you then, Cupcake. I like talking to you." A smile blooms across your face. Things are turning up.

Chapter Text

"Good morning, dearest."

You smile up at the speaker, rubbing your palms across their broad muzzle affectionately. The scales are smooth and rubbery. "Good morning. Sleep well?"

"Naturally. You're quite warm. Hungry?"

"A tad. I'll fetch the water." Your dragon affectionately nuzzles their nose against your leg before drawing themselves onto all fours. No matter how many times you see them change shape, it still mesmerizes you. The cuddly dragon you know and love stretches (it's catlike) and in a series of snaps and pops, expands to over double their size.

"I'll be back soon," they rumble. You watch them fumble a bit, adjusting to the size change.

"Be safe," you instruct warmly. They roll their eyes fondly and walk over to a large window in a series of talon clacks. As they do every day, they perch on the lip of the window before taking off.

You'd been terrified when your people had cast you from your home, locking you away under the sole care of a dragon. All because of a natural disaster the local old bat called 'a warning.' They'd locked you up the following night. You're not sure if they wanted your dragon to eat you or keep you trapped forever. Fortunately, they're the kind sort and had thought that the townsfolk wanted you watched over as a favor. Not a prisoner.

No one has come to the tower. It's a good thing you don't need saving. With an affectionate gaze, you watch the elegant flying of your lover as they swoop along the tree line, searching for food. You may never see the townspeople again, and you're perfectly fine with that.

Fuck those guys.

Chapter Text

You buckle yourself up inside the detective's car. It's a sleek and bright red vehicle. Not very covert for a detective. Papyrus gives you a sultry look before he buckles up and cranks the car. You wait for him to pull out before dropping the bombshell.

"So, detective, do you usually fake a dangerous scenario to hit on people?"

He sputters, moving the car to avoid a stop sign. The car jerks and stops. The detective's hands are clutching the steering wheel. At least, you think he's a detective.

"How did you know?"

You smile, enjoying how you hold the cards now. Turn tables, right? "The only people near me, minus you, were a group of kids from my neighborhood. Sure, they're tall, but are those teens dangerous? Nah. Besides, a swanky car like this while you're on the clock? Sus."

His expression shuts down. Where did the flirty detective go? Goosebumps raise across your arms and the hair on the nape of your neck raises. Something isn't right. Papyrus flicks a switch on his car door. It locks the vehicle. Since it is a new model, it automatically locks the doors when the car starts. Why would he double-check it? You give him a raised eyebrow look. His expression is tight, and he pointedly looks away from you, putting the car in drive.

"You're too smart for your good."

Instead of screaming, you slip your phone into your hand, aiming it down out of sight. You send your location to a friend.

The car jerks to another stop and the phone goes flying into the floorboard. With a cry, you raise your arms to keep your head from hitting the dash. He'd stomped on the brakes.

"Thank you," he says colds, grabbing your phone. You feel like vomiting when he throws it out the window.

In a fit of panic, you try everything you can. The door doesn't open, even when you unlock it manually. "I had a child lock installed." Next, you swipe the floorboard. "I had the car cleaned." You're crying when you pop open his glove box. Polaroids fall to the floorboard. Your hands are shaking.

These are photos of you.

Chapter Text

You buckle yourself up inside the detective's car. It's a sleek and bright red vehicle. Not very covert for a detective. Papyrus gives you a sultry look before he buckles up and cranks the car.

"So, detective. How come you came to my rescue?"

He keeps his gaze on the road, even when the car pauses at a stop sign. "We're building a profile on the dangerous people that were nearby earlier. You fit their profile. So far, they don't know we're onto them."

You shiver. "What have they done?"

"Kidnapping and human trafficking, mostly." That was almost you. Human trafficking sounds unpleasant, to say the least.

"Thank you," you say earnestly. Silence hangs between you, and you text a friend to let them know you're going somewhere new. They have access to your location automatically. "Still up for wild and kinky sex?"

The detective sputters. When you look over, his skull is decorated with a lovely flush.

Detective: 0
You: 1.

Chapter Text

"I found more of your goop," you mention offhandedly.

"Oops. Sorry." Your partner sheepishly rubs the back of his neck.

"It's okay, just be careful to keep it off the plants. I don't know what it'll do to them." Nightmare opens his arms, embracing you from the side. You lean into his hold.

"How was your day?" he asks.

"Eh, fine. Got groceries," you say. He huffs and you fondly yet exasperatedly roll your eyes. "It's fiiiine. I can handle myself."

Nightmare burrows himself into your side, plastering himself against you fully. Ah, so it's one of his clingy days. Fortunately, skeletons are light. You heft your lover up underneath his femurs. He sighs in relief when the two of you get settled. Nightmare wraps himself around you. It's a familiar weight. He hangs on like the words most bonafide koala as you prepare him and yourself a snack. He may not be hellbent on destruction, but his...chaotic work tuckers him out. It's a good thing magic food exists in your universe.

"Wanna eat and cuddle before the others get back?" Nightmare nods, knowing you can feel the movement of his skull against yours.

He's passed out in your lap when Killer and Dust come home.

Chapter Text

"You look so beautiful, Red."

He pants, breath heavy and warm coming through the fabric stuffed in his mouth. His sharp teeth have likely serrated the fabric already. You don't care.

"Prettiest picture in the world, baby." You lean down to press a kiss on his cheek. He whines. "I know, I know," you coo at him while sliding a hand down the bumpy planes of his ribcage. His hips buck when you wrap a hand around his lumbar. "Want it?" Red whines loudly, rocking his pelvis upwards. You don't move, liking the stimulation.

"Alright, you've been good. So, so good." Red nods, various gurgle sounds coming from behind the gag. (It's just your underwear.)

Your left hand braces your weight, and the right slides down against his iliac crests. Gooey magic meets your hand in the cradle of his pelvis. "Your magic is so pretty, Red. Go ahead, let go." You watch trails of magical red sweat bead and slide off his skull. There's a distinct fizzling sound, and a rubber-like object greets the side of your hand. You look down, smiling. "Remember your signal?" Red nods, twisting his fingers and tapping your arm.

"Gorgeous. Now, let's see how many times I can get you to cum."

Chapter Text

The first thing you feel is warmth. Then there's the steady rise and fall of the monster you rest atop of. His purring almost lulls you to sleep again. A pressing sensation tells you why you're awake.

With a grumble, you attempt to climb off your large mate. His purring trails off to a stop. You watch his expression. He sleeps deeply, but you don't want to wake him up. Papyrus deserves rest.

You shimmy off his large torso slowly. As you edge closer and closer to the edge of the bed, you get closer to success. A little more, and your feet will touch the floor. Success is a breath away. Gravity shifts under you. In the darkness of your bedroom, all you can see is a burnt orange light. It illuminates the pearlescent bone of your mate's face. Your shoulders slump in defeat.

"Where ya goin'?"

"Bathroom," you say. Papyrus picks you up gently around your waist, putting you down squarely.

"Mkay," he mumbles, obviously tired. "Come back soon." You giggle and lean up towards him. Papyrus gets the hint, happily leaning down with lidded eye sockets. You press a gentle kiss on his (recently straightened) teeth.

"Keep the bed warm for me," you jest, walking away to the bathroom. Papyrus flops back onto the bed and passes out instantly.

Chapter Text

What would a poly relationship with Sans and Toriel would be like:

Toriel picks you and Sans up. She jokes about strapping you both to her chest/back and carrying you that way. In turn, you can lift Sans. Insert various hugging/holding potential. Toriel is warmer than you and Sans while Sans is cooler than you. Perfect variety.

Sans does crosswords while Toriel and he trade back breakfast puns. You snicker and set the table. (Kitchen table poly, literally)

PTA is optional, but Toriel gets so happy when either of you participates. Sans and you bring the sass

All three of you raise Frisk. Dunkle Sans, Goat Mom and You. Plus Asgore part of the week.

Toriel tries her best to make you both feel included. Sans does the same in small ways. Things get easier when you start staying over at each other's places more. Toriel and Sans host more often than not.
Both offered to move you in (at the same time, mind you)

You go on a picnic, bringing Frisk in a red wagon. Sans carries the blanket, also in the wagon (liable to fall asleep sitting up.) Toriel pulls the wagon, and you carry the basket.

Goat mom soft and strong. Bone man cool and smooth. Best of both worlds

You all take turns having a date night. Sometimes it's three of you (Frisk somewhere else, Asgore's or a friend's house,) and other times it's two.

Toriel makes your favorites when you've had a hard day. Sans is a good listener and gives solid advice if you want it. They both try and take care of you in their way.

Toriel's love language is probably gift-giving or words of encouragement. Sans' is quality time and also words. He feels the best in the presence of his partners, even if you're doing different things.

Sudden song duets when the radio is on and that one song you all love starts to play.

Sans can sleep anywhere, and Toriel is fine as long as she knows you're both safe. She has no issue with either of you cuddling up to her. The power of fluffy partner. Sans has a habit of trying to soak up the warmth while asleep. Toriel likes some form of skin-to-skin and sleeps with light PJs, if any.

Toriel has a habit of putting her hand on both of your shoulders. Sans likes brushing by you both and holding your hand inside his pocket (cozy points)

Naturally, you aren't always together, but when you are, it's special.

Chapter Text

"I AM SO DISGUSTED. REALLY? IN FRONT OF MY SALAD?"

You snicker, jostling the ketchup bottle in your hands. It finally squirts out what you need onto your plate. Sans looks on in awe, jaw hanging open and...stars in his eyes?

"What? It's good," you defend.

"I love you," Sans breathes while having not moved an inch. You smile at him, it's a goofy thing, before starting to mix your food and condiment together. Rice and ketchup. A true delicacy.

"UGH, NO WONDER. YOU'RE PERFECT FOR EACH OTHER. MAY YOU HAVE PLENTIFUL TOMATO CHILDREN."

You gasp, dramatically splaying your hand over your chest and tossing your head back. "The blasphemy! Clearly, our children would be potatoes to go WITH the ketchup."

Sans snickers and tosses your empty bottle into the trash. Of course, it sticks the landing. Papyrus silently high fives his brother. "Not sure food kids are the way to go...Maybe slippers instead."

Chapter Text

"I-I can't swim," you look away nervously and avoid looking up at your boyfriend.

"No problem! I have various life vests. Besdies, my pool floaties are huge. I have legs for days."

You smile. "Floaties hm? Tempting..."

"Wait here! I keep them safely tucked away."

He turns and marches to the shed purposely. You're quickly overwhelmed by the various (and large) pool floaties he managed to stash. How did all of it fit in the shed?

"My favorite is the chair. It even has a cup holder! So efficient." Your boyfriend flips up the lid to a patio bench and beckons you over. There's plenty of life vests inside.

"Alrighty, you've convinced me. Flamingo or neon?"

His face grows serious, and he evaluates the vests like a jeweler and a gem. "Flamingo." You take said vest out, and your boyfriend is quick to help you put it on. He pokes and prods everything until he's satisfied that it's secure.

You hold in a laugh when he unceremoniously hikes up a leg and steps over the rim of the aboveground pool. Thankfully, it should be wide enough to fit the pool chair and his legs. The ladder is harder to climb than you thought. Somehow, they're always made too small to comfortably use.

"Would you like a lift?" Your boyfriend, the tall (loveable) bastard, outstretches his arms. With a nod and strained smile, you're off the ground and being lifted by dependable bones. He holds you in his arms (much like an adult would a toddler, cradled to their chest) before resting you on a pool floatie. It's a flamingo. You wonder if it came with the vest currently wrapped around your torso.

"There! Now, our sun and water adventures begin!" He gracefully climbs into his chair. A soda can is already in the cup holder somehow. You snort a little when he flips up his sunglasses to wink at you.

The water is the perfect temperature, and you relax in blissful silence for some time.

"Hey...I think we forgot sunscreen."

Your boyfriend sighs, deep and long. "Shit."

Chapter Text

"I don't feel...male?"

"Okay."

Sans folds...his(?) arms. You sit opposite from your skeleton friend, hands loose and face neutral.

"Which uhm, you seemed like the best person to- to talk to," Sans says. You nod and smile.

"Because I'm non-binary?"

"Because you're non-binary," Sans agrees "and my best friend. After my mattress." Sand quirks a smile and you know it's a coping mechanism. You laugh anyways.

"Alright, I'll sit here and listen for as long as you need me to. I care about you."

Sans smiles and holds your hand. "I know. Thank you."

Chapter Text

"So, what's with the ghost?"

Gray jerks, his whole body moving like a spooked cat. "What."

"Y'know, the dead monster who lingers with you. Dead relative? Best friend? A spirit you just picked up somewhere?"

Gray looks like he either wants to run, shank someone, or both. "Uh. What."

You sigh, "look, you've got a skeleton spirit who follows you. Sometimes he's here, sometimes not. It's the first time I've seen a monster ghost. Usually, you guys move on peacefully, with your energy dispersed into an object."

That's right. Gray remembers that you comfort people on their deathbed for a living. Something about empathy or some shit. He can't remember since you don't talk about it much.

"Look," you sigh, "I can set my stuff up, and we can contact the skeleton if that's what it takes for you to believe me. Weirder stuff has happened."

"I...." Gray balks "..later." He teleports, and you don't see him for a week. As usual, he didn't stick around to help with the dishes. Thank fuck you have a dishwasher.

"...If I let you...will you..." Gray twitches and fiddles with his hoodie string. He twirls it around his finger. Wrap. Unwrap. Wrap again. He opens his teeth, but no sound comes out. You save him the pain.

"Yeah, dude. Grab a juice box or whatever and I'll get my shit. Just don't freak when we get started. Throws off my game."

Chapter Text

"Pfffft did you see the way those moms were looking at us, G?" You cackle

He chuckles, fiddling with his zippo lighter. "They act like they haven't ever seen someone wearing all black before."

"Oh no! Someone wearing boots and a black turtleneck! We're gonna be sacrificed!" You mock using a high pitched voice. He laughs and you unlock your car. The two of you toss the groceries in the back seat and enter your respective seats up front.

What you doing expect is the gaggle of moms to exit the grocery store, kids in tow. One of then nudges the other, saying something and then all eyes on you and G. He snorts and gives the moms finger guns. You don't have to see his face to know he totally just winked. Fucker is oozing smug energy.

"G!" You laugh, waving to the moms and co. with the biggest smile possible. Some of the kids wave and finger gun back. At least one of the moms in the back looks amused.

Both of you burst into laughter when most of the moms herd their children in the opposite direction. You idly wonder if they group shop together often.

Maybe you'll see them again the next time you and G go out for groceries.

Chapter Text

"Don't bother trying to escape, princess. You'll never go there again."

"Never?" you look up to the dragon who'd swiped you from the palace garden.

The dragon frowns, if possible, and its large head swings down to match your height. Dark socket-like eyes stare into your own. "Never."

You sigh a little, rocking back on your heels. "I- Wow. Really? Please don't jest."

"I am serious, human." The dragon unhunches itself.

"You have my many thanks, dragon," you bow at the waist.

"Thanks?" the dragon's flesh moves as if to frown. For a dragon, they're quite expressive. "Why do you thank me for kidnapping you"

"More like rescuing me," you laugh, "those people are... awful. Only thinking of themselves, really."

"I see," the dragon huffs to themselves, looking from you to the wall. "I hadn't heard great things about the kingdom when I migrated here. Then I saw firsthand how your countrymen treat anyone not human. I snuck into your cities and saw how they treat each other."

"It's true, the kingdom is being run dishonestly, but I hadn't known it was that bad... they stopped letting me outside."

"I know. The sneakiest of us here in the wildlands gathered information on the royal family. Our plan was to hold you hostage and make demands, but..."

"Ah. I see." You sit down, crossing your legs. "Why don't we do that? Send out the ransom, have the king's men come to collect me, and then break me out later?"

"What would you want in exchange?" The dragon lays down, crossing its arms and idly clicking their claws against the cave's floor.

"Peace. A place to exist, freely."

"I can vouch for you, provided that you help us."

You smile and idly gesture with your hand, "consider it done."

Chapter Text

"Mauve!" you call out for your datemate, walking around and looking for him.

"In here," he says to your left. You find him in his room, the door ajar. He's folding laundry, likely fresh from the dryer. You pause at the door and watch him for a moment. Mauve tries to be precise in everything he does. With mixed results. His folding skills, though? Legendary.

"Heeeeeey, so," you fidget in the doorway, "I kinda need a favor?"

Mauve flicks his eyelights up at you before returning his focus to the laundry. He presses a t-shirt in half. "I'm listening."

"I need someone to match costumes with me at a party. Nothing big! Like, 35 people max. The past two years my costumes have been, mhm, less than spectacular." You know he's going to want more information than that, but let your words hang in the air.

"What costume?" he asks.

"Gomez and Morticia," you answer.

"From that movie we watched the other day? The one with the golddigger?"

"The very same," you finger-gun. Mauve seems to mull it over for a moment. Time for the heavy artillery. "There's a contest."

He pauses. "Contest?" Got him.

"With prizes," you grin. "Visa gift cards."

"Alright, I'm in, let me see if I-"

"Thanks! Love you, bye!" you practically run to your room to make preparations.

Mauve stares at where you just stood, left hand clutched uselessly in a pair of jeans. "-Have a suit."

"Here!" you press a hanger into Mauve's hands. A garment bag hides most of the outfit.

Mauve takes it inside the bathroom with him. The sound of your retreating footsteps is loud in the relative silence of the house. Gently, mauve hangs the garment up and carefully unzips the bag. Dark and silky fabric spills out. Lace tumbles to the side like ivy cut from its trellis.

It's a dress.

Mauve takes off his gloves, folding them gently and putting them on the counter. He runs his hand along the garment.

You got him a dress. For him. Specifically.

With a feral grin, Mauve starts shimmying off his sweatpants.

Chapter Text

"That's your power? Being able to see the worst thing someone will do to you?"

"Yep. In real-time."

"What the fuck," Killer mutters. Dust is staring at you. Horror looks like he's mentally elsewhere. Dream fidgets. Nightmare does nothing.

"It's fine, honestly. I'm glad I have it since it's saved my ass a few times."

You don't mention that the floating text changes, sometimes. Free will and all that.

"What's mine?" Dream asks.

You smile, reading the text that appears over Dream's head when you focus. "Inconvenience." His shoulders slump in relief.

Dust shudders. "I don't want to know." He tugs his hood down, hiding his sockets. You check his text, even though it's never changed a day you've known him. 'Lie.'

"Okay," you nod. It's his choice, in the end.

The topic changes and dinner continues. In the following days, the rest of the boys ask you for their text, in their roundabout ways.

Horror straight-up asks, biting the bullet while brushing and (trying to) braid your hair. "Step on toe," you answer honestly.

Killer sits with you under the guise of watching TV. He lasts half an episode of Chopped before asking. The words tumble from between his teeth like water bursting from a broken dam. He even has the shame to slap a hand over his mouth. You chuckle. "Right now, it's trip. It was break foot, earlier."

He winces. "Is that why you've been upstairs all day?"

Nightmare knocks on your door and demands to know. You know his tone is defensive, born from insecurity and anxiety. "Hurt." It's vague and the least severe text you've seen floating above his skull. Nightmare's has fluctuated the most out of anyone you've ever known. You tell him not to worry. He doesn't seem soothed, but you know he'll come around.

Dust gets grumpy. Moodier than usual. He's on edge around you, shutting things with more force than necessary. "It's okay to ask," you try to reassure him. "Everyone else has asked if it makes you feel any better."

When he finally breaks down, you tell him honestly. "It's not the worst I've seen. People do it all the time. I trust you, Dust."

Chapter Text

Bodies bump into one another. You're surrounded by bodies. Everyone is clamoring together, multiple voices trying to rise above one another.

You are one of these bodies on the verge of tears. "Ghost!" You feel like crawling into a ball or climbing a wall to find your skeletal... something. Then, you feel a tugging sensation.

"There you are," Ghost wraps you in his embrace, his broad back giving you more room to breathe in the crowd. He's practically shielding you from the stray elbows and shoulders.

"What's happening?" You ask.

"I don't know, but we need to get out of here. I can't teleport with all these people touching me."

"Here, let's link arms and get out of here. I watched a crowd-crushing video a while ago."

You take a calming breath, lock arms with Ghost, and navigate to a far wall. It's narrow and risky, but as soon as there's a slight break in the crowd, Ghost wraps you entirely in his embrace and teleports. In a blink, the both of you are in the parking lot of the mall you had just been in.

"Jeez," you separate from Ghost. Not a ton, but just enough to collect yourself. "What the hell was that? A bath and body works sale?"

Ghost looks pensive for a moment. "I don't know, but we should get some food."

"Yeah, good idea. Do you want-"

"-Subway? Absolutely."

You start your van and follow his jeep as he pulls out of the parking lot. Maybe one day, he'll tell you about the news report that night about a security scare at that same mall. Well, he probably will when he gets drunk, but you'll probably forget because you'll be drunk too.

You park after grabbing your food, choosing to lay out in your van's bed. Ghost has already secured the jeep and brought his overnight stuff. It can get a little awkward, with the bathroom and all, but Ghost has always been really chill with waiting outside the van for you to... do your business. Plus, he'll typically take a smoke break under the stars and try not to picture you undressing, even if it's only partially. He knows you have that one tattoo on your thigh...

The two of you do the same routine tonight. Ghost smokes in silence until you open the curtain and knock on the van window. He uncaringly steps on his cigarette, ensuring it's not lit before throwing it out in the small bin you keep. Like most nights on the road, the two of you crawl into the bed and relax to sleep music. Your blackout curtains are a godsend, but there's nothing in the van that Ghost appreciates more than you. As for you? There's nothing better than admiring Ghost's hauntingly beautiful face before bed.