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Undertale Scenarios

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(Post-Pacifist Ending) Monsters roam peacefully about the surface - or, as peaceful as it can get alongside a few big sacks of judgement calling themselves the Justice League while they terrorize each and every new addition they come across. You happen to be of the merciful sorts, despising what war the JL is trying to start, but can't find the courage to speak out about it. Instead, you decide saving even one person from the hurtful words of hypocrites is better than none at all.




You sifted through the shelves of Best Buy, eyes skimming over the many DVD cases of shows and animes you had watched and returned, time and time again. It was almost your monthly routine, to come and trade in your old obsessions for new ones, wondering if you’d ever find something to fill the gaping hole in your curiosity. When your eyes flickered up for a brief moment and caught a glimpse of a small, dinosaur-like - was it a lizard? - monster with round glasses and a white overcoat, something clicked on inside you. As you wandered aimlessly down the aisle, you kept finding your gaze drifting to the creature standing not far from you, unable to think properly and process all the titles in front of you. Flustered, you instinctively struck your hand out to grab a random case, only to find another already on it. A string of shock ran through your chest and you used the arm attached to the hand you had covered with your own to find the exact source of the appendage. It was the same monster from before, but now they seemed embarrassed, a bright pink blush covering their cheeks as beads of sweat ran down the sides of their face, lips curving up in an anxious smile. After a few moments of surveying them, you removed your hand as though you had been burned and stuttered out an apology before scampering off. You decided on the way to your car that you didn't mind marathoning YouTube gameplays for a week.


You relaxed into a wooden bench, directing your gaze to your hands as you steadied your breathing. You're not sure why you always tortured yourself like this; your own conscious and what it lead you to doing most of the time was like a coach trying to teach someone paralyzed below the waist how to walk. Since you could remember, colors wouldn't process correctly in your vision - colorblind, as some would say. You felt cursed to be of the rare group that lived in full monochromatism, everything dull and plain no matter how bright the palette. Pathetically, you woke up each day hoping to have restored vision, and visited the most colorful places in the world - art galleries, museums, the skyscrapers at night. Today, you had chosen a botanical garden, finding it harder than usual to watch children run around and examine all the assumingly beautiful plants with wide eyes. Just as you gained the courage to lift your head, a rather large figure landed themselves beside you on the wide bench. Out of simple curiosity, you surveyed them with your peripheral vision, instantly recognizing the large cape from magazines and news reports. It was the famous king of all monsters - you wondered how it felt to have that heavy of a title on your shoulders. Not wanting to come off as rude with your current attitude, you decided it best to leave and casually slipped away from the bench. You tried to pretend you couldn't feel a piercing gaze burning holes in the back of your shirt.


You found it odd when you spotted a dark silhouette placed atop your favorite relaxing spot. Yet, you couldn't manage a sense of surprise, knowing how comforting it was to be surrounded by the gentle caress of golden flowers and the quiet rustling of leaves. You understood that sometimes, all people needed was a step outdoors and a taste of fresh air. What did happen to shock you, was when the dark phantom steadily revealed itself to be a fairly large monster with curling horns. No matter how many months it had been, you weren't exactly used to the appearance of these creatures from below the surface. You hesitated on your climb up the hill, not wanting to disturb their personal time and finding yourself nervous at the thought of conversing with a monster. You thought you could skip back downhill without them noticing, but as you started to turn around, their head shifted to look over their shoulder. Both your eyes locked for a split second before you stumbled down the slope and returned home.


Bleu (Nice Cream Guy):
You didn't mind the rain as it created a refreshening smell, reflective puddles, and peaceful pattering noises. However, when it came down in sheets and the wind was strong enough to knock you off your feet, your love for the usually gloomy weather wavered. Luckily, you happened to be inside, sipping hot chocolate from your favorite mug, staring out a window and watching the rapid raindrops fall. Yet, unluckily, your eyes also landed upon a monster just across the street, what you supposed to be rabbit ears drooping solemnly as it tried to power through the rainstorm while next to its “Nice Cream” cart. You couldn't help but pity the guy and started to feel guilty just sitting there and watching him. Sighing, you set your mug on the sill and rushed off to find shoes, a blanket, and an umbrella. Once you obtained all three objects and had slipped on your footwear, you stepped out of your apartment complex and into the world. An instinctive shudder came over you as you were immediately drenched by all the water, but you shrugged it off, huffing as you quickly crossed the two-way street. When the rabbit creature noticed your figure heading towards him, one of his ears partially perked up, curious. It was hard to think that the confused look on his face wasn't adorable. Once you were standing directly in front of him, you opened the umbrella and grabbed one of his hands, carefully placing the handle in it. From there, you pulled out the (fortunately) dry blanket from beneath your blouse and swung it around his shoulders, tying the loose ends together at his chest as you shivered uncontrollably. You smiled at your finished work and waved shyly before hurriedly back-tracking to your apartment, not responding to the, “Wait!” Perhaps they would think you couldn't hear them over the heavy rain.


BP (Burgerpants):
It was an unusual thing, really, to find someone of your age enjoying an opera. Whenever people asked about your rare curiosity towards a certain one, you would shrug it off casually and blame your grandmother. Now, you stood outside a theatre after witnessing Love Never Dies, lit cigarette tucked between your fingers as the smoke mixed and intertwined with the steam floating from your nostrils. The cold weather hardly bothered you, but all the formally dressed people filtering from the sets of doors left an unmistakable aching in your chest that had you desperately grasping for the pack stuffed in your breast pocket on your way out. You could never afford clothes like that, not after you dumped your weekly wage into buying a ticket for the show. You looked down at yourself meekly - at least your black pants and v-neck shirt seemed sort of nice..? You rolled your eyes, bringing the cigarette to your lips again. That's when he showed up, a cat-like creature that was dressed almost as great as you. At least he had dress pants and a neck tie - scratch that, the tie was a clip-on. He asked you for a light and you complied without a second thought, sliding another smoke from your pocket. You handed it to him and pulled out your lighter, flicking it against your thigh and watching the flame lash out violently, then settle into a peaceful lapping. You carefully lit his cigarette before stomping out your own, not bothering with introductions or ‘goodbye’s as you turned and headed for your car. You liked operas, but you didn't like people.


You were just tired, really. Climbing that mountain, wondering even if the monsters had all filtered out of the underground, would you still fall in and “disappear”? It was a dark thought, but those seemed to be the only fabric of your soul anymore. Standing at a large, gaping hole in the ground, you looked down in the abyss, letting the black enrapture you, dare you to just do it, to just jump. But you suddenly felt paralyzed, hearing a calculated laugh from the other side of the hole. Fear crawled and wriggled around in your gut as you distantly recognized the evil tone, hating it as it brought an odd sentiment, but feeling comforted by it all the same. In some sort of sick, twisted way, it didn't make you feel so alone anymore. Pulling away from the abyss, you looked up and stumbled a bit to find someone looking back. Their crimson eyes seemed to glow in the shadows, a small grin in place of their lips as they stared at you, hungrily. You breathing became ragged, and tears started slipping from your eyes as they began cackling again. You sobbed all the way home, locking all the doors and windows. You felt threatened, but needed more...


Mt. Ebott was actually a really interesting place, in your head. You often took hike up to the cave the widely-known Frisk had explored, just to see what could be seen in the dark hole they had fallen into. You were tired, today, of seeing nothing but an abyss, so instead of visiting Frisk’s entrance, you side-tracked to their exit. The whole underground had practically been abandoned excluding the monsters who just couldn't give up the home they had become accustomed to, so as you stepped inside a dark room through some purple pillars, you were confused to hear crying, to say the least. You followed the distant weeps into the next room, seeing an oval-shaped patch of grass, and the back of a flower placed exactly in the middle of it. Its petals were trembling, two leaves rising and lowering in a sort of sullen wave. You could easily tell the sobbing was coming from them and took a step forward in an attempt to get closer and comfort them, but the flower’s base titled, its pistil turning as if to look at you. You should have been shocked to see a face on it, but you were not, instead deeply disturbed at the highly deformed expression it was wearing. It called you an idiot with heavy venom in its words, and demanded you to leave before it killed you out of spite. You obeyed as quickly as humanly possible, swiveling on your heel and tripping your way back out of the cave on hurried feet. Standing outside the gaping hole, you looked over your shoulder one last time, the flower’s distressed cries still echoing in your ears until you stumbled down the heavily-wooded slope and returned home. You continued to question why it had been weeping.


(In which they fell down at a much older age and will be referred to with they/them pronouns..)
Looking in the newspaper, your eye twitched. Why hadn't you thought of that? Climbing Mt. Ebott, disappearing forever? Your strict parents would be so devastated… and then you would pop right out of that cave, releasing all previously trapped monsters into the world, seen as a true heroine. But at the same time, reading about all the criticism the Frisk persona received, maybe it was best you remained tucked away in your home. Folding the paper carefully, you tucked it beneath one of your thighs and sighed. You watched all the people walk and drive by, ignorant to your presence like they always had been. If you ran out in front of one of those cars, would they..? No. You weren't suicidal, you were just desperate. As much as you hated to admit it, you craved a moment in the spotlight as much as you craved breathing while underwater. You sat there at that outside table, cup steaming as you sighed softly, unbeknownst to the figure intently surveying you from inside the café. It’d probably be a while before you noticed.


You hung over all the paperwork and bills, tears of frustration leaking from your eyes, creating little dots of dampness on the piles of hospital letters. You had recently been in a car accident and had to have multiple surgeries to maintain your health, resulting in a sore pride, a deep well of debt and no money to get yourself out of it - damn you, shitty insurance. Your fingers shakily moved back to your keyboard, typing a few words in the email to your new lawyer, only to find the font in your Word document had been switched. Pursing your lips, you highlighted the words you had wrote and changed it from all the crazy symbols back to the usual Arial. Your eyes widened to find the sentence before you not replicating your previous words at all. “It's been years since I've seen a face around here. I was broken and alone in that hell I called my home. You should have left me to decay. Helping me was your worst mistake.” You shutdown your laptop without a second thought. 


It was late, really late. But around midnight was the only time your apartment complex’s laundry station seemed to not be filled up with other people’s clothes. You looked pretty trashy when you slipped out your front door, locking it shut behind you as you balanced the basket of dirty linens on your hip. You were just about to hurriedly rush for the stairs and towards the mini laundromat, only to turn around and bump ungracefully into a man made quite literally out of fire. Your basket toppled to the ground as you gasped, clutching for the racing heart you couldn't reach. After another few moments, you blinked the shock from your eyes and pulled the hamper back into your arms, muttering a few curses along with an apology as you slipped past the man and toward the stairwell. Was it hot in there or was it just him?


Flashing lights were not your thing. You realized this as you tried to escape from a Victoria’s Secret without being caught in the crowd of screaming journalists and crying fans. It was futile, you knew it, but it was nice to hope you would, at some point, be able to escape the lingerie store without scrapes and bruises. And if you weren't caught on one of those damned cameras, blushing madly and practically man-handling a lace bra in an attempt to look like you were comfortable buying undergarments, that would be a dream. Probably a fever dream though, shit that happens in those never comes true. But alas, you could see the wide exit just a few feet from your reach, you could almost taste the freedom, and then - you were hit squarely in the face with cold metal. Stumbling back, you held your nose and gazed through narrowed eyes at your assailant, only to have your eyebrows raise in surprise. Your first thought, ‘What the fuck is a robot doing in Victoria’s Secret?’  You didn't bother for answers as the bra was released from your grasp and you then booked it out of the store. Who ever said you liked lace anyway?


(In which he is in his Napstabot form for the convenience of not being able to stick your hand through him. That’d be kind of awkward.)
You just wanted some peace and quiet, some time to read your paperback books without the constant interruptions from your roommates. Instead, you found yourself still irritated as a person somewhere behind your chair blasted music so loud you could hear it through their headphones - or, that's what you assumed they were doing. In any other situation, you would've admitted the song they were playing sounded pretty cool and asked for the title if they didn't seem busy. But now, you were irked beyond belief. You lowly growled to yourself and stood abruptly from your chair, swinging around to face the accused. You were paralyzed when you saw a robot sitting at a table not far from you, hair sticking out in every direction as he stuffed his face into his laptop screen. He was so… precious. Just looking at the concentrated expression on his face, the way his metallic lips somehow managed to pout, you disregarded any thought of scolding him. You must have been standing there too long, for his glowing white pupils flickered up from his computer screen before locking with yours. You both blushed your respective colors - although you weren't sure how robots blushed (not to mention it was a light shade of teal) - and you hugged your books to your chest before rushing to the other side of the library. You sat on a wide window sill, trying to brush off the embarrassment as you nursed your damaged pride. Would you ever get to redeem yourself?


You were trying to figure out the physics of that guy’s cape. Well, I mean, he wasn't a “guy” by any means - er, maybe he was, who knows? Anyway, it seemed his cape fluttered freely in the breeze every time pride came upon his face - somehow. Except… You licked your finger and placed it in the air, you felt no draft. He was just breaking all the laws of physics, not to mention the fact he could move his face into various expressions. You had no idea bone could be so… so flexible. Maybe it was magic, that would explain it… right? You huffed, watching the skeleton roam freely about the playground, conversing loudly with a dog, then attempting to climb the slide. He was sure fun to watch as long as you didn't think too hard about why exactly he was capable of doing what he was doing. But overthinking was the only strong point you had, so you sat there and pondered life, wondering what all you had missed when the monsters were underground. You figured you might have to read up on it.


You were what people called a “freelance poet”. You saw people on the streets and you literally judged a book by its cover, soaking in their actions and appearance to try and guess their story. Then, you would take that fiction in your head and transform it into a poem, sometimes vague, sometimes obvious. But, staring across the street at what you were pretty sure was an illegal hot dog stand, you couldn't get a read on him -whoever he was. He was short, stout, seemed to fall asleep every other ten minutes. Once he even got up and left, but returned half an hour later, repeating his process of gazing at the ground boredly and dozing off. Nobody really gravitated towards his stand, and yet he didn't seem to mind. You were struggling and frustrated when you couldn't make up a reason why. He appeared to be so careless, and for that, you just couldn't understand him - the one missing piece still meant the puzzle was incomplete. You may have been surveying him for a little too long, a flustered expression on your face as you tapped your pencil impatiently against your knee. His white pupils locked with yours, you felt like you were supposed to remember something, but couldn't remember what you were supposed to remember. You both momentarily stared back at each other until you pulled away from his heavy gaze and packed your things. You decided it was time to leave.


You were just doing your daily routine of grocery shopping, grasping small items that would be needed for your dinner, and maybe tomorrow's dinner. And that was when you felt a slight tug on your shirt, making you flinch and cower a bit, instinctively. Looking down, you were relieved to only see a short kid, probably around the age of eight or ten, their brown bangs falling carelessly over their eyes. You asked them what they needed, and they told you they were lost. It seemed they weren't much for conversation, but you helped them anyway, soon learning they were looking for their mother. You stood at the front of the store, filled basket in hand while scoping out the area, looking for a human that looked somewhat like the child beside you. You were surprised when they quickly ran up and hugged a monster, confusion crossing your features as you wondered how a goat walking on two legs could be a suitable parent. You decided the thought was rather rude and brushed it off, instead continuing to watch the reunion. The monster's eyes flickered up to you after the kid pointed in your direction, but you didn't want to go through a whole spiel about charity, so you quickly slipped away. Waiting in line, you realized it could have been nice to be rewarded. 


It was the one week you could afford to attend lunch at a semi-fancy restaurant, but now, you were regretting wasting your money. Only one booth in front of you was a blue-skinned monster with bright red hair, yelling about the waiter giving her shrimp as an appetizer. Her loud and perpetual ranting was honestly starting to give you a headache, and you sipped lightly on the glass of white wine in some weak attempt to make it go away. You considered roughly grabbing her shoulder and telling her to shut up, but after noticing the toned muscles of her biceps you sank right back into your seat. One of your hands used a fork to push your ravioli around on the plate, hoping a waiter would notice your discomfort and offer to move you, or kick the enraged lady out. Instead, you were stuck waiting another ten minutes before you caught a waiter by their sleeve and asked if you could get a to-go box. You angrily slammed down some cash after you were told they didn't supply any, and started to understand the angry fish woman just a little bit easier. You probably wouldn't forget her any time soon.

Chapter Text

Meeting… Again:


Your embarrassment faded within a few days time and you soon you found yourself parking in the lot of Best Buy again, more movie cases in hand. You had just been casually strolling towards the front doors, twirling your plastic bag of DVDs around your wrist and whistling a small tune. That was until you ran straight into someone. As you struggled to regain your balance but soon fell on the ground anyway, you began to wonder if this place was bad luck, and upon opening your eyes and recognizing a yellow-skinned monster towering over you, you didn't wonder anymore - you knew. You swiftly gathered your bag back into your arms and stood up, brushing yourself off as the creature before you stuttered out inaudible mutters and shifted her weight from foot to foot anxiously. You laughed slightly which surprised her straight out of her previous shock.
“I'm am so sorry. I swear I'm not purposely embarrassing myself in front of you.” An awkward, lop-sided smile came upon her face once you said that, a small bead of sweat appearing on her forehead.
“Ah, no. I-It’s my fault.” She looked shamefully to the ground and the defeated look on her face felt like a punch to the gut. It reminded you someone... 
Carefully, you laid a hand on her shoulder, patting it lightly to get her attention. Once her eyes drifted back to you and a small blush arose, you smiled kindly. “Well… Want to go get some lunch to make up for it?” The idea popped in your head, and you couldn't stop the words from escaping your mouth.
More perspiration appeared, and she seemed to be trembling slightly. “Like a-a date? I-I mean - I’veneveractuallybeenonadatewithacutepersonbeforeIdon’tevenknowifI’mproperlydressedreally-”
You couldn't help the chuckle that slipped from your throat, interrupting her small rant. “Sorry, you don't exactly have to think of it like a date. More like, a completely platonic encounter. Just two people sharing a meal.” Smooth recovery.
She eyed you carefully before smiling slightly. “Y-Yeah. I think I’d like that.” She paused. “I'm Alphys, b-by the way.”
“Nice to meet you, Alphys.”


It was okay to be curious, right? It was perfectly normal to feel pulled toward someone just because you needed a few answers, correct? You convinced yourself it was on the way through the botanical garden you had only visited two days prior. Your mind kept wandering back to the king you had previously encountered, many questions echoing in your mind before they were suddenly driving you crazy, sending you loose to find the fuzzy monster all over again. It was odd how you remembered the trip back to your bench so clearly, but you brushed off that fact and took a seat upon it, waiting. And so, there you waited. And waited. And waited. And waited. Until..! No, it was just a child skipping past. A child you felt like you recognized, perhaps from the previous visit? 
“Frisk!” There was a deep, loud huffing not far off. You sunk into the wood, trying to mold yourself against it, become invisible. “I cannot keep up with you when you run so fast!” 
In a blob of gray, followed a large figure dragging himself along in order to catch up with the kid who had just gone by, you supposed. His head hung low as his chest heaved, before his face slightly tilted in your direction. His expression lit up at the sight of you, a small, kind smile on his snout that made you feel welcomed, but… oddly saddened.
“Howdy!” His voice was so lighthearted it reminded you of a child. He seemed so innocent and yet the bass of his voice told otherwise. “I so badly want to say, ‘would you like a cup of tea?’ But…” You had a feeling he's said this before. “I don't have any on my person right now.”
“It's okay,” you mumbled quietly, finding yourself uncomfortably shy when faced up against the friendly presence.
“Did you see a small child go by, only a few seconds before?”
You pointed to the left, eyes surveying the gravel path intently as you looked anywhere but him.
“Thank you.” His appreciation seemed short, cut-off, like he was missing something.
“(Y/N),” you said, but felt like you had reminded him. 
He nodded, smile faltering until he continued his trek down the path. You felt lost.


What was it, you pondered, that kept him coming back each day? And why did you keep coming back to watch him from afar? There were too many inquiries and too little answers, which made you feel terribly out-of-loop. So today, you decided, you would speak to him. You climbed up the hill as the clock struck six and you watched his dark phantom slowly reveal his true appearance until you were standing directly behind him. It had been painfully obvious that you were approaching with the panting and crushing of leaves, but he did not turn around - didn't even flinch. You held the idea of turning back, leaving him alone, but your movements contradicted the thought and you sat down beside him - close, yet not too close. You watched the sun begin to set, sky being painted with pinks, oranges, and yellows, clouds peacefully drifting by, although they never obscured the beautiful view. The canvas soon filled in with darker shades, yellow turning the color of sandstone and orange to a rosy pink, followed by a light brush of violet as the indigo blackened. It was an amazing process, and you were sure for monsters it must have been magical. But the one beside you seemed numb, not looking at the horizon, but instead at the flowers. Desperation filled his eyes, but his eyebrows furrowed as if the feeling was unwanted. You placed your hand gently on top of his, squeezing lightly.
“I’m (Y/N),” you whispered, watching the golden petals sway, too. 
“I know,” he replied, and you believed him. “Asriel,” he ended briefly.
You smiled. “I know.”


Bleu (Nice Cream Guy):
You had fallen asleep on the couch, loosely hugging a pillow as a long line of movies played on the television. Now, you awoke at the sound of someone knocking on your door. Wiping a bit of drool from the side of your mouth and running your fingers through your hair in a fruitless attempt to make yourself seem presentable, you soon threw the cushion to the other side of the couch and rushed for the door. Upon opening it, you were ready to give your usual excuse to the apartment manager about how you just needed one more month to pay everything off, but instead you took a step back at the sight of the monster from the previous night. He was holding a closed umbrella in one hand, and a folded, freshly washed blanket in the other. You didn't have any words.
His ears perked and he gave you a cute smile, holding out both the objects he had with a shimmer in his eye. “Thank you!” You took the umbrella and sheet from him, dazed. “... For the other night,” he reflected.
You almost drunkenly smiled back, rubbing one side of your face with your unoccupied hand as you wondered if this was all a dream. “It's no problem. You could have kept these, I didn't expect them to be returned.” You raised the things in the crook of your arm slightly to specify what you were speaking of.
His grin never faltered, he only tilted his head slightly. “You're the only human who's acknowledged me!” Ouch, your heart. “I figured, I should return an act of kindness with my own~” You thought he purred that last part, then remembered he was partially rabbit, not cat. 
“Well, I, uh -” you started, but he interrupted you with the excitement you were beginning to think was just a part of his personality.
“I’d love if you’d stop around my stand some time! I'll even give you a Nice Cream, on the house!” You had a distant thought that he was subtly self-advertising. You didn't mind - he seemed like a joy to be around.
“Where will you be near noon?”


BP (Burgerpants):
You had been wandering an alley on the way back to the shit-hole you called home, listening to - surprisingly, but not that surprisingly - not opera music. Let It Go by James Bay happened to be the song playing on repeat, and you lightly hummed the beat, kicking a pebble down the dirt path. After you lost sight of the rock when it tumbled behind a chain-link fence, you glanced up and down the road, making out a blurry figure of someone you felt like you recognized. As your feet carried you closer, the blurry mix of colors grew details and you knew most definitely it was a person you had seen before - the cat creature. A new cigarette was placed between his lips as he filtered through something on his phone, and you knew you could probably slip around the side of a building to avoid passing him and forcing some conversation, but didn't know if he had already seen you. Deciding to just grow a pair, you kept strolling down the alley, keeping your eyes forward and not on him. You were so close to just walking on by, but soon found his foot stuck out in front of your ankles, making you pull out one of your earbuds. Your looked to him and found a smug expression on his face, the kind that seems forced more than anything. 
“You're the kid from the theater, right?” His voice was neutral, but his tone a bit raspy. It would’ve been attractive if you had slapped that tiny smirk off his face. You just stood there, glaring. “Thanks.”
Your eyebrows furrowed and you tried to find something mildly rude to say, then figured you were probably being too harsh on him. You didn't even know the guy! “Don't mention it,” you grumbled, moving to put the abandoned part of your headphones back into your ear, but he gripped your wrist.
“Wanna get lunch?” he invited.
“Is that you're way of asking me on a date?”
“Nah, just to show my appreciation.”
“For a cigarette?”
He shrugged, and you sighed, reaching down to pause your music. “Whatever. Why not?”
His grin stretched unnaturally wide, and you would've left if it had been without the promise of free food.


You didn't need. You desired. You craved to know why that person was on that mountain, too, and why their presence brought you so much emotion. You were such a fool, and you knew it, but climbed back up despite that, grasping your necklace for comfort. You entered the cave again, narrowly avoiding a trip on some vines and rocks until you reached the hole. You surveyed the brushing shadows surrounding the hole, but found no other presence accompanying you. You decided you would sit and wait. It was not long before the laughter began to echo from the cavern at your feet, as if it was calling you to the edge to look in. But you refused, no longer wanting the solitude of death, but instead the company of something close to it. Your wish was granted, for soon you felt someone sit down next to you. You didn't bother to look at them, already knowing who they were.
“What kind of stupid are you?” they asked with the happiest tone.
You shrugged in reply, examining your dirtied shoes. The insult had no effect on you when it came from them, you felt like you were far too used to it. They giggled.
“You come back here, acting brave, when only a day before you ran away crying?”
“People change,” you objected softly, not daring to really speak up.
“Wow, you sure do change fast, then.”
“And you give in easily.”
“What do you mean by that?” they hissed.
“Only a minute ago, you were trying to get me to fall in that hole. It wasn't long before you realized I wouldn't and simply gave up trying.”
“But I knew you wouldn't. There's a difference between coming to your senses and giving up.”
You felt like you had heard that before. You shrugged again. They huffed.
“Why did you come back?” they asked. They seemed more down-to-earth now.
“For you.”
“For me?”
“You bring me sentiment that no one else can.”
They chuckled, placing a hand on your shoulder. “Oh, (Y/N),” they purred. “I knew you couldn't stay away from me forever.”
Your brows furrowed, but you relaxed under their grip, deciding that this was the end. This was the end of your inability to remember.


There's the quote, “If you love a flower, don't pick it up.” explaining that love is not about possession, but appreciation. You took that quote more seriously now that you had encountered an actual, talking - and crying - flower, yet completely ignored the “let it be” part as you hiked your way back up Mt. Ebott. It wasn't easy to find the cave again, but weren't about to give up and sulk all the way back home. It seemed that determination helped you find the underground’s entrance just a little bit faster, and you picked up your pace until you reached the room you had seen the flower in previously. Your heart sunk when you found it was gone, the only sign it was truly there happened to be the unraveled pile of dirt. Sighing, you moved over to the patch of grass and sat down, running your fingers through the soft strands. It was better to take a break than face disappointment on your trip off the mountain, so you sat and relaxed, thoughts drifting. You squealed as a rumbling interrupted your inner monologue, and a golden flower unravelled itself from the middle of the grass. It seemed shocked, itself, to see you sitting there, and you both shared the same high-brow expression for a few moments until it growled lowly. You wondered how a flower could manage to do that.
“What are you doing?” it spat at you. It sounded like a male, although it's voice was high like a child's. You decided it was.
You suddenly felt guilty. “I-I was just -”
“Why did you come back?” Tears gathered in the corners of his black, beady eyes, although his features remained strong with frustration.
“I was curious. I just want to he-” He interrupted you once more.
“You want to help? There's nothing left of me to help.”
“I-I’m sorry, I thought that… I thought…” Your words trailed as he began crying, suddenly feeling flustered. You couldn't decide what should do; leave, or comfort him? But how would you console a hot-tempered flower? “Are… Are you..?” You couldn't finish your sentences as his face grew more melancholy while the seconds passed, his leaves drooping, head tilted down in shame - he looked like he was slowly wilting in front of you. You struck your hand out carefully, just following instincts as your fingers ran along his soft, golden petals. At first, he didn't react and you were relieved, continuing your gentle pets as his tears fell and soaked into the soil. It felt like forever before he ceased his weeping, but you didn't mind. He looked up at you with a sorrowful expression and you reeled your hand back, watching as he sunk back into the ground. You stared at the patch of earth he escaped into, trying to figure out if he would come back and thank you. You assumed he wouldn't and stood up, leaving the cave and walking home in the dark of twilight.


Back at the café, yet again, with your steaming cup of coffee. As it sat between your hands, you were sure it was take one hour or more just for it too cool off enough to be drinkable, but you took a sip anyway, grimacing at the burning but sighing at the taste. You had tried French Vanilla today, and each time you dared to take small bits of the hot drink, you found yourself in heaven, but were brought back down as you swallowed. It was probably your new favorite, now. Glancing up from your plastic cup, you gasped a little to see someone sitting across from you, shocked that you hadn't noticed them before. What took even more breath from your lungs was who exactly that person was. Frisk, hero of the underground, just casually relaxing in a seat at your designated table.
“U-Uh…” You tried to speak, but you found it impossible to form anything coherent.
They waved, a small smile curving on the edges of their lips. You surveyed their lowered eyelids, medium-length hair and bangs, soon noticing any accompanying bandage on their cheek too. You giggled at that. How old were they now? Probably enough to live alone, and they still wore band-aids over their scrapes. It was childish, but cute.
Their head tilted in confusion, and you shook your head to dismiss their confusion. “I’m sorry. The band-aid threw me off.”
They patted their cheek, fingers running along the patch, before they grinned and a small giggle escaped them, too. It oddly unsettled you, but you brushed it off.
Your phone buzzed abruptly, causing you to jump a bit before you pulled it out, groaning as you read the text from your friend. Their car had broken down and they needed you to give them a ride. Slipping the mobile back into your jacket pocket, you took another sip at the coffee and gathered it in your hands, smiling down at Frisk. “I actually have to go now, maybe we can do this another time?”  They nodded in agreement and you patted their shoulder kindly, skipping off and driving away. Your coffee wasn't too hot anymore.


You had been writing a few notes down on a large clipboard when your hand started cramping and you decided it was time to take a break. You had long since forgotten the incident including your laptop, deciding it must have copy and pasted some lyrics you had searched up before typing the email or something. To be fair, it had rhymed… How the font had switched itself, you had no idea, but it was such a regular occurrence, you weren't really affected. You swiveled around in your chair, preparing to stand until you saw something that made you screech like a cornered cat. Your hand instinctively swung back and you grabbed the pen you had previously abandoned, chucking it at the intruder. He seemed unfazed, watching the utensil miss him by a few feet and roll down the floor until it reached his shoes. Under his gaze, it snapped, black ink staining the wooden floor as you cowered in your chair. 
“May we speak now?” He asked politely.
You reached your hand back to grab another possible weapon but found yourself suddenly not wanting to attack. The monster before you ‘tsk'ed quietly.
“You have so much to learn…” Readjusting the collar of his white undershirt, he steadily took a few slow steps toward you, holding up a skeletal hand in a sign he meant no harm. You found the perfect circle cut in his palm rather distracting and wondered how his fingers still managed to work. He was almost close enough to touch you now, and he lowered his hand only an inch before his fingers curled into a fist and he yanked his arm backwards. You felt something pull in your chest until you felt oddly empty, like something was missing and you hadn't known it was there before it was gone. Your eyes flickered down to your chest and widened at the sight of a glowing - what looked like - half-heart. It looked like it had been cut crudely down the middle and you instinctively went to grasp the dark blue object that floated lazily in front of you, only to have your hands swatted away.
The slightly disfigured skeleton looked down at you, surveying your face as if trying to remember something. “So much to learn..,” he muttered. He held out a hand to shake. “W.D. Gaster,” he introduced formally, but you fainted before you could respond.


Exiting your apartment, you thoroughly surveyed the hallway to make sure you would not be surprised by the sudden appearance of a man made of fire, again. After a few moments of looking, you turned, locked the door, and swiveled on your heel, ready to retrieve your laundry from the previous night. A loud gasp escaped your lips as a sudden warmth engulfed you and you found yourself nearly face-to-chest with someone. Glancing up, irritation scratched at the midst of your chest when you recognized the wild flames and sophisticated glasses, a small, angry rant forming in your head.
Instead of a hate-filled spiel, a “what the fuck” slipped from your lips, easily. In the midst of those flames, it seemed, an eyebrow rose and a gloved hand did too, a pair of black underwear hanging from one of the fingers, almost blending with the leather. “What the fuck,” you whimpered, this time, snatching the undergarment from him as his fire grew a bit wilder.
“...” You stared at him, uneasy as you waited for him to defend himself. “...” You shifted your weight from foot to foot anxiously, hiding your underwear behind your back. “... You dropped it.”
Your brows furrowed, staring almost incredulously at the monster before you chuckled breathily and shrugged. “Good excuse..,” you glanced at the name tag fastened to his black vest, “Grillby.”
You both stared at each other for a minute until he turned and walked away, you soon following his actions but in the opposite direction. What an encounter…


The mall really seemed to be the only place in the city that could fix your coffee the exact way you wanted, and now that most of cashiers knew your name by heart and your regular order like the back of their hand, it was hard not to come back the day after you found yourself trapped in Victoria’s Secret. So there you were, sitting inside the small café as you watched waves of people pass by the large glass windows, occasionally glancing at something interesting on your phone while your drink cooled. Although, there was one person you saw that made you sink deeper into your seat, but that didn't seem to hide you from their wandering gaze. It was the robot from before, yet this time a pink, vertically striped bag swung on one of their metallic arms, and they grew ecstatic upon recognizing you. He gracefully rushed into the open doors and over to you, gently plopping down in the chair at the other side of your table, placing the bag atop the polished wood. 
“Darling~!” He cried happily as if he had known you all your life and hadn't seen you in years. Maybe he had; your memory seemed a bit foggy nowadays. “I am so sorry for yesterday! I honestly did not see you until you were practically nestled up against me. Honestly, I’m flattered such a cute thing like you chose to run into me.” The compliment completely blew over your head after you sensed his egotism.
“Uh, yeah. Right…”
“Anywho!” He pushed the bag a bit closer to you with his index finger. “I noticed the article you dropped after our encounter and I must say, you have good fashion sense~” You hesitantly peeked into the bag and a dark blush climbed up your neck until it reached your cheeks. “I thought you’d look absolutely stunning in the lace design, and I’m always right.” 
“U-Um, yeah. Thanks.” You grabbed the small rope handles and placed the plastic bag on the floor, trying to seem busy.
“What is it, beautiful? My, you look almost as embarrassed as Alphys when I caught her watching that ‘yaoi', or whatever.” He rolled his eyes slightly, but you could tell through the tone in his voice he felt slight admiration for the ‘Alphys' he spoke of.
“N-Nothing! It's just…”
“Do you not like it? I assumed you did, after all, you were the one who picked it out.”
“N-No! I wasn't expecting such a..,” you tried to find the right words, “kind gesture, that's all.”
“Ah! I understand completely, darling. Now, I must go before the paparazzi catches up. I hope you enjoy the gift~!” You watched him leave, taking all him flamboyance with him. You suddenly felt lonely without his presence, and noticed a tag on the Victoria’s Secret bag. “From: Mettaton. To: (Y/N).” You were shocked to find that he knew your name.


Napstablook / Napstabot:
You honestly should have left the library instead of wallowing in silence, but couldn't find the courage to walk by the music-loving again after what had happened. Your slight inexperience with social interaction could be a real bitch sometimes - you probably should have made more friends as a kid. Although, you couldn't sulk for long, as your refusal to leave meant he had to come to you instead. You learned that the hard way.
“U-Um…” You glanced up from the book you had been staring at for quite a while, noticing the male robot from before. “Oh… Was I interrupting? Oh… Maybe I should just leave…”
“No!” You protested a lot louder than you originally intended and they seemed to flinch slightly. “Sorry, no,” you said more quietly. “You're fine.”
“Oh… Alright…”
You gulped slightly and turned towards them, smiling awkwardly. “I’m sorry for staring at you earlier, too. I just kind of spaced off. You looked - well, uh, I mean - you look very interesting.”
Their teal blushed returned and they twiddled their thumbs nervously. “It's… It's fine.” His eyes examined the floor before flickering up to you. “Sometimes I like spacing off... too.” His brows furrowed and he looked at a shelf of books. “It's a family tradition.”
You giggled at that and he seemed surprised. You took his shock as a sign that he wasn't joking and instantly quieted. “I actually thought that was a joke, at first.”
“Oh… No, I’m sorry… I should probably be more clear…”
“You're fine, really! It's just not everyday I hear about someone's… er, family traditions.”
“Right…” They still seem flustered, and you decided they might as well be as experienced as you in the social department.
“I, um… What was your name?”
“Oh… I forgot that was a normal part of human culture…” They looked back at you and their headphones slightly shifted with their hair. “I’m Naptasblook.”
You smiled sweetly, hugging your books slightly. “Cute. I’m (Y/N).”
“Oh… Th… Thanks, (Y/N).” He grew nervous again. “I should go now… I don't want to bother you…”
He fled before you had a chance to tell him that he could stay.


You returned to the park the next day just for the fact that you may have wanted to see the logic-defying skeleton again. You had browsed the internet overnight and learned a bit of history on the underground species, suddenly realizing how big of dicks humans were. It kinda made you not want to be one, yourself. But besides that, you heard a distant yelling and an amused smile crept on your face, knowing who exactly the exclamations were coming from. Although, what you did not know was that they were coming straight for you until you had to practically bend over backwards in order to look at the tall monster that had run directly to you.
“Wh-what?” you sputtered. “N-No, I-”
“WORRY NOT, HUMAN. NOT MANY CAN RESIST MY CHARMS AND HANDSOMENESS.” He did the cape thing again, you watched it intently. “Although, I do have some bad news…” His whisper was the equivalent of someone talking normally. You jumped when he began yelling again. “I HAVE NOT HAD ANY CHANCE TO GET TO KNOW YOU, WHEREAS, I DO NOT EVEN KNOW YOUR NAME.”
“(Y/N),” you mumbled in the midst of his speech.
You shrugged, smirking at this whole situation. You found it more hilarious than embarrassing and tried to keep your laughter contained.
“DO NOT CRY, IT IS NO MATTER. I HAVE INSTEAD BROUGHT YOU SOME OF MY HOME-COOKED SPAGHETTI IN A SORTS OF APOLOGY, ALTHOUGH I AM NOT SORRY FOR ANY OF THIS.” You grasped at your heart, pretending to feel hurt. He shoved a rather large, aluminum-wrapped plate in your face and you took it from him tentatively, wondering if it’d turn out to be any good. (You would later find out it was absolutely horrible, but appreciated the effort.)
“I MUST RETURN HOME NOW, HUMAN, OTHERWISE MY LAZY BROTHER MAY CONTINUE TO HIDE FROM HIS DUTIES WHILE WATCHING TV. IT WAS NICE TO MEET YOU.” And with that, he gallantly strode away. Once he was out of ear-shot (skeletons don't have ears..?) you broke out in laughter, clutching the plate tightly as a tear slipped from one of your eyes. You wiped it away and continued giggling all the way home. You already missed him.


That night, you dreamt of him, the stout skeleton. It was rather disturbing to find your placed in his shoes - er, slippers - watching everything from his perspective. After all the visions had faded and you awoke in a cold sweat, you grasped desperately for your notebook and began scribbling almost blindly against the paper, the moon being your only light. “Timelines, they shouldn't seem so long. But it takes forever when you all about it wrong.” You paused, wracking your thoughts to remember what all you had seen in your unconscious state. “These halls are lined with blood I can't have on my hands. These walls seem to call my name, but I refuse to be another puppet in your game.” Your pencil stopped abruptly, and you forgot what you were writing. Frustrated, you tried to recap on your dream, but found it just out of your mental grasp, no longer able to remember what had happened. Huffing, you placed the book aside and settled back into bed. Maybe if you slept, you would see it again. 
You didn't. Awakening normally, you got ready for the undemanding day ahead and tucked away your notepad while locking up your house. You took the route that had been branded into your thoughts all morning, and soon found yourself across the street from the hot dog stand again. No one was there yet, and you swiftly crossed the street, looking around before your brushed your fingers against the flimsy wooden poles. “Done what I can to try and hide, but even you can tell who I really am inside.” The words slipped into your mind and you leaned against the stand as you wrote them down. People drifted by, and upon seeing a child wearing a striped shirt, more words filtered in. “And it's not my job to watch you. I’m leaving here tonight.”
“Wat’cha writin’ there, bud?” The deep voice caused you to flinch and you were filled with a sudden sense of dread, your heart pulsing loudly until you forced yourself to calm down. 
“A poem.”
“You write poetry, huh?” You nodded in response. “About people?” You paused, then continued to write.
“Maybe one day you'll find humanity…”
“Hey, kid, I asked -”
“Yes.” You gave him a side glance, smiling as if to reassure him. It seemed to have an opposite effect.
“Until then, don't you dare say that we are the same.”
“Are you writing one about me?”
“You sure are smart for not having a brain.” You were positive you remembered he liked jokes, although you weren't sure how; you hadn't spoken to him until now.
He chuckled, almost nervously.
“Sans,” it slipped. You didn't mean it.
“How did you -” He seemed intimidated, and you had a feeling that was a rare occurrence.
“It's not going to happen again.” You weren't sure what “it” was, but it seemed to relax him.
“I know.”
“Do you?”
“Do you?” He had a good point.
“I think so.”
“Who are you?” His white pupils surveyed you intently, like he was trying to place something. 
You went to introduce yourself, but found another name slicing your tongue. “Ch-” You cleared your throat. “(Y/N), sorry. Just (Y/N).”
He seemed wary, but shrugged. “Well, (Y/N),” he said your name like he knew it wasn't yours, “I’m fresh out of hot dogs, want a hotcat?”
You smiled, stowing away your writing supplies. “Gladly.”


It was just like you to forget half of the stuff on your list, but in your defense, that kid totally distracted you from your shopping. So, there you were, going back the next day to burn more holes in your pockets when you stopped short of the front doors. It was the goat lady from before, and you contemplated turning back and hiding in your car until she left, but the idea was trashed as her eyes locked with yours. Your shoulders hunched and you dragged your feet over to her, awaiting the conversation you were about to have with no enthusiasm. It's not like you didn't appreciate small forms of charity, but the fact that you always felt in debt and never had anything to give back kept you wary of them.
“Hello,” the silky, calming voice of the monster took you away from your thoughts on what you would say to kindly reject her offer. She sounded so… “My name is Toriel.” Beautiful. She sounded beautiful. “I must thank you for supervising Frisk until I was able to come to my senses and seek them out.” You were almost enraptured by her magnetic tone, and then you scrunched your nose at the thought. Jesus Christ, you were totally crushing on someone's mom. It was like a bad high school flashback. Toriel seemed unfazed by your sudden feature change and continued happily. “Frisk and I would love if you joined us for dinner sometime, as a way of paying you back.”
“I'll feel like I owe you,” you blurted out and you quickly covered your mouth with your palm, looking shocked.
Toriel laughed at that, patting your shoulder kindly. “It is no problem, dear. It is us that should feel in debt.” She seemed sincere and you couldn't turn down her offer. You pondered if it was because she seemed like a good cook or your heart was begging to scream, “Holy fuck, I’m already falling for you!”
“Yeah, sure,” you said instead. “When would I be able to visit?”


“Hey!” You shriveled at the easily-recognized voice, wanting nothing more than to just melt into a puddle on the ground. But you were in public, roaming the city skyscrapers and you weren't sure your body had the capability of doing such things. So, you slowly turned, dreading what you would see, and dreading their arrival when you made out the familiar face of the fish lady from the fancy restaurant. You just wanted to go home… “You got some real courage to just stomp out of the restaurant without fully paying like that.” Oh god, was she working there? “It makes me respect you just a little bit more!” 
You sighed, relieved. “It, uh, was nothing. I was just angry.”
“Angry, schmangry. It's all the same in my book.” You were pretty sure that didn't make any sense, but gave her props for trying. “Anyway, I didn't really like that joint either. Wanna go grab a bite somewhere else?”
Your eyes widened, and you shrunk in place a little, thinking that if you said no she would pound you into that puddle you were wishing to be earlier.
“It's no problem if you want to go home, I get it. Just an offer.”
It was the second time relief washed its chilling blanket over you. “No, no, it's fine.”
“Really?” One of their eyebrows raised, their top set of teeth nibbling absentmindedly on their bottom lip. The sharp fangs kind of intimidated you.
“Yeah, I mean, I've got nothing better to do.”
They seemed to brighten and they roughly gripped your arm in one hand, pulling you along beside them as they beamed. “Can't keep up? Fuhuhuhuhu~”
You sighed and continued tripping all the way to the pizzeria. It was worth it, in the end.

Chapter Text

Bravery. Justice. Integrity. 
Kindness. Perseverance. Patience.

One day, a child woke up knowing their closest friend was dead after so long, missing. The child cried themselves dry and hissing. One day, a child followed the footprints in the snow, all the way to a large, gaping hole. The only thing left, was a name drawn in the mud. C/H/A/R/A. And yet, it was enough, for the child to harden and tough. One day, the second child fell down into Mt. Ebott. People said it was an accident, but it happened to be not. The child only cared for the one that left no trace - it seems their life underground was nothing but a race. They grabbed anything they could manage, so induced in anger they never needed a bandage. Everything that came in their sight was destined lose its light. One day, a child left not blood, but ash, grieving and raging - just a little too rash. They tricked and deceived, said they just wanted to be freed. After the child's skin was colored a sickly gray, most folk realized they would not survive the day. “Don't hurt my family,” but the child loved seeing agony. One day, a child took every last bit of the timekeeper’s wit. They fought and they taught, each other what it meant to lose, endure all the blacks and the blues. In the end, there was no way the child could not mend after being broken and bent. One last blow hit just below, the heart he did not have, but how could one live while cut in half? The child moved on, destined to not waste time, longer than it needed to be drawn. The king kneeled, bled red and spred, all over his golden field. At the top of the throne, sat one the child had done this all for, just so they could settle the score. “You will give me your soul,” they said, and the child obeyed. Falling to their knees, they realized all they had paid, for nothing in return except meaningless time to burn. All they wanted was to avenge, and instead they received a life full of fuzzy memories and lost souls they could not befriend.

Bravery. Justice. Integrity.
Kindness. Perseverance. Patience.

Those were all traits (Y/N)’s young soul could not comprehend.



Becoming Friends:


Sonic was literally the only fast-food restaurant in sight, and you actually didn't mind. The brief walk across the parking lot, street, and another parking lot was pretty much silent besides the scuffing of your shoes - and feet - along with the passing cars. You could tell Alphys was practically having a heart attack the whole time and wanted to comfort her, but thought your efforts would encourage her into a full blown heart aneurysm, so you remained steady and waited for her to calm down by herself. You both stood in front of one of the outside menus, glancing over the choices and she seemed to have ceased most of her sweating, so you decided to speak.
“You know what you want?” you asked lightly, kindly, and yet she still flinched. You began to ponder what made her so jumpy and felt a spark of guilt for unknown reasons.
“U-Um… Not really, I haven't been here before.”
You smiled patiently at her, then gently elbowed her. “Hey, it's no problem. Want me to order for you? I kinda know what tastes best here after practically living on the stuff.”
She did that awkward smile - you were starting to like it. “Sure.”
You ordered two of the same number, and gestured for Alphys to sit down while you inserted your credit card. After paying, you sat down on one of the metal benches beside her, staring out at the cloudy outline of Mt. Ebott.
“What was it like there?” you inquired mindlessly, just trying to start conversation. For some reason, you thought you already knew her answer.
She was silent, contemplating. “Restless,” she decided at once, and you were surprised at how steady her voice sounded. “When Frisk fell down and began making friends with everyone, we all just got hopeful that they’d be understanding enough to give up their soul for us. We were just waiting until they met Asgore.” Her expression hardened. “I… I felt horrible when I was practically leading them straight to their death, but…” You eyed her carefully, not reacting as to show her you were still waiting for the end of the story. “In the end, nobody had to die.”
Those didn't seem like the words she wanted to say, but you were content. You weren't about to push her past where she comfortable.
“I'm glad. It would've sucked to not have been able to meet you.” Your kindness was beginning to sound forced, but you meant everything you said.
Alphys blushed deeply, “I, uh, guess I am a pretty cool person.”
You laughed, knocking your shoulder into hers playfully. “That's the spirit!” When you raised your hands and waved them around, a few people inside their cars looked at you funny, but you didn't mind, enjoying the sound of your new friend’s giggle, doing anything to keep it from quieting. You ended off your lunch together by trading numbers and promising to set up a time and date for a movie night.


Curiosity killed the cat, but you were not a cat. Therefore, you could continue visiting the monochromatic garden as much as you wanted to, to continue seeing the king without any consequences. Your friend found it odd and unlike you when you mentioned the light, innocent obsession you had towards the monster, but you simply brushed it off. You would not be discouraged by someone else’s thoughts. It was the fifth day of meeting, and it seemed this time Asgore was without Frisk, which made your mood lift a bit. You felt like that kid could see right through, and whatever they saw each time seemed to displease them. He gave his usual, high-spirited greeting and you rewarded him with a small wave. You both sat and talked a while, the king pointing at flowers and naming them, explaining their origin and what some believed they were used for. He always seemed careful to avoid mentioning what color they were, as you would not understand. Your conversation together was drifting, becoming monosyllabic while you both fell into a quiet peace. That was until he spoke up, sounding troubled.
“(Y/N),” he started seriously, “Frisk has informed me…” He trailed as though he was trying to find words that would not offend you. Aggravation grew in your gut - why was it always about Frisk? Why was it never about you? You surprised yourself thinking that; why would it ever be about you? “... They informed me they are wary of you. They do not like you very much.”
“Tell them I’m sorry.” Your voice came out hard and cold, far more emotionless than you intended.
“I, ah…” Asgore nodded slowly. “I will do as you wish.” His face softened, he looked vulnerable - fear flashed in his eyes and neither of you appeared to know the right reasons.
“Did they say why?” you questioned more like yourself. Your lightened tone relaxed him again.
“No…” Asgore glanced at you and smiled. “I am sure their feelings are fleeting. They just do not know you well enough yet.”
You smiled back, interlocking your arm in the crook of his and you both sat there in silence, watching the plants sway with the small breeze. You were in quiet understanding until it was time to leave. You arranged to see each other the next day.


It was like he never left that hill, and sometimes you were curious to know why, but not brave enough to ask. So instead, you continued visiting him at the start of dusk, making light conversation until it was verging on too dark to see your way home. 
“- but I just don't understand how all these flowers never die. I take one home from the grocery store and it barely survives the week!”
“Maybe it's magic,” Asriel added, smiling.
“Maybe it's you. Aren't the majority of monsters made out of magic?”
“Aren't the majority of humans made out of water?”
“What's your point?” You surveyed him from narrow, playfully-accusing eyes.
“I mean, flowers need water, right? If you're all made of that, I don’t understand how I can keep them alive with magic better than you can with water.”
You rolled your eyes. “Huh, lemme see. Maybe magic’s more powerful than water, hm?”
“After the war, I’m not so sure.”
You scoffed, hitting his shoulder lightly as he grinned. “Come on, that's not funny.”
He shrugged off your comment, and looked up to the sunset. You followed his gaze and sighed.
“Do you ever get tired of it?” he asked.
“Of what?”
“Of the sunset?”
You turned your head to him, watching the orange light reflect gently against his eyes. “Never,” you breathed.


Bleu (Nice Cream Guy):
The Nice Creams actually turned out to be… nice. Hah, guess they really did live up to their name. It seemed Bleu would pick out ones especially for you - wrappers that commented on how nice you looked, or how great your personality was. The color in your face would always flush at the compliments, no matter if they were just printed on paper, and he would chuckle, teasing you lightly. That's why you kept coming back. He was so light-hearted and could see the good in everything. Even if his expression went downcast, he made up his own wonderful ideas that would immediately cheer him up. He especially loved it when you helped imagine business prompters with him. It seemed your presence around his cart attracted a few other humans, too, giving him a bit less time to talk and a lot more time to grin in delight. There was never a day that was uneventful with himp
“Do you ever have to get permission to be selling stuff around here?”
He waved off some invisible insect and rested his head in his hand. “Of course! Although, my license really speaks for me~”
“Really? Huh…”
“What's on your mind?”
“Oh, I just asked this skeleton the same question earlier. He said something like he didn't need permission and then made some joke about the law…”
Bleu snorted and you resisted the urge to tell him that was cute. “Oh, Sans? I'm pretty sure the city just gave up trying to shut him down.”
You giggled, “How long did that take?”
“Until he realized the mayor didn't like japes.”
You broke out in laughter and he laughed with you. There was never a dull moment with him, either.


BP (Burgerpants):
“Was he born that way, or was he like, burned as a child?”
“Dunno. Never read the book.”
“Ugh,” you groaned, slouching in your side of the booth. “So unhelpful.”
The cat chuckled through his full mouth and you swatted him with a napkin before beginning to laugh yourself.
“Still, it's not like he and Christine had a lot of conversation. I’m not sure it's possible to fall in love with someone just for their voice.”
“You’d be amazed,” he mumbled, taking another bite of his burger.
Your brows furrowed. “What's that supposed to mean?”
He shrugged casually, shaking his head as if to dismiss the topic. “I've heard of humans falling in love with cars, so I'd imagine loving someone for their voice is a lot easier.”
You snorted, prodding at the ice in your drink with a clear straw. “Would it be considered bestiality if I fell in love with you?”
His eyes widened and he froze, mouth practically shrinking to half its original width. “What?” he asked quietly, voice cracking. A grin split across your face and you cackled, one fist pounding on the table mercilessly.
You couldn't wait for the friendship ahead.


You both sat by the hole, looking in with yearning eyes like you wanted to jump in, but simply couldn't, held back by an invisible force. You had been speaking about what your childhood was like, as it turned out you were friends before humanity took its worst turn and Chara decided it wasn't a society worth living in. They said you were the only one they could truly handle without immense anger, and while they were underground, they hoped you would soon follow in their footsteps, so you could both live in harmony without the judgements of your own kind. 
“It was lonely without you, and I was getting tired of waiting,” they explained, flicking up a pebble from the dirt. “I felt my only means of escape was to take Asgore’s soul and exit through the barrier, but he was just so resistant against the poison…”
You eyed them carefully, wondering what they meant.
“He was allergic to butterscotch, I heard him tell Toriel once, and after seeing him grow sick, I grew hopeful. But then he got better and I knew killing him from the background just wouldn't work…”
“So you poisoned yourself?”
“Precisely.” They paused. “I was going to get you down there one way or another.” Chara gestured to the abyss at your feet. “All it took was a little dying.”
“A little?” You were dumbfounded - incredulous.
They laughed. “Mhm~” they sung.
“How are you alive now?”
“Oh, (Y/N). Dear, precious (Y/N)...” Their eyes glowed, grin distorting. “All I needed was half of your soul and some resetting on my part!”
Your hand immediately went to your chest as if trying to grasp the soul you were sure you had never seen. Now, you weren't positive that you wanted to, anyway.
Chara patted your back, cackling. “I didn't even have to fight for it, (Y/N)! We were such great friends that you immediately surrendered it. It almost made me tear up, really~”
You smiled grimly, “Yeah…” You looked back at the hole. “I guess we were.”


You carried the brightly painted pot carefully, your grip on it tight so it wouldn't slip from your hands as you navigated back to the spot you and Flowey called your own. You had been thinking over the past few days on how to get him out of the underground, and figured planting him in something that could be easily transported was the best solution. He didn't know of your plans, but after you spoke for two weeks - perhaps more - you were sure he trusted you enough to let you show him what life was like outside the dark walls. It seemed convincing him turned out to be a bit more difficult than you originally thought.
“You want me to leave?” he hissed, turned away from you, petals flaring.
“Well, I just… I thought that maybe you get lonely, and it would be easier for the both of us if you just… y’know, were not all the way up here.”
He was silent and you placed the pot carefully into the grass. 
“It's not bad out there, Flowey. In fact, it's absolutely beautiful. You won't even have to interact with anyone besides me if you take up the space in my backyard, since I do live on the outskirts of town. Doesn't that -”
“Has it ever occurred that not everything is about you?”
“W-Well, I… I…” Your nose scrunched in an attempt to push back the tears.
He turned on his stem, a regretful expression on his features as he heard you sniffling. He eyed you for a moment and then sighed, tilting back around and delving into the earth. You thought that he had left you for good until he reappeared, placed perfectly in the yellow pot.
“Happy now?” he muttered, avoiding eye contact.
You smiled, petting his petals gently for a moment before picking the pot up and settling it carefully in your arms. You couldn't help the grin that stretched on your lips all the way home.


French Vanilla did become your favorite, and along with new, favorite things, you found your weekly visits with Frisk rather fun. You never left the coffee shop, but sitting outside in the warming sun and practically playing charades with them the whole time turned out to make some interesting conversations.
“This guy at my work is a total dick, really -” Frisk covered their ears playfully and you giggled. “- like he's a total anti-supporter of your cause, which is completely unacceptable.” Frisk grinned, resting their chin in their palm, new bandages wrapped around some of their fingers. “But he got fired this week because he hung up all these hateful posters around the office. It was so childish… Work’s more quiet now that he's gone, actually. It's nice.” 
Frisk gave you a thumbs up, before they tapped at their phone that rested on the table.
“Huh? Oh! My conversation with Asgore?”
Frisk nodded, urging you on with a smile.
“He said he believed you were totally capable of handling business on your own, but knowing we're becoming friends helped sway him…” Frisk seemed to contemplate the term ‘friends' a little longer than a normal person would. “So yeah, uh, when my next paycheck arrives, I’ll be leaving the office and helping you!”
Frisk lifted their hands in the air as if saying “Hooray!” and you laughed at their actions. You both settled down after a few moments and stared quietly at each other, your fingers tapping on the plastic of your cup. Your brows furrowed when they cleared their throat, you never heard them -
“I’m glad,” came their raspy voice. Your eyes widened and your tapping ceased. 
“Did you just..?”
Frisk nodded vigorously and you began giggling again, stretching your arm across the table to grasp their hand in your own. From then on, you enjoyed the small talk.


After gentle persuasions and a few days of staring at him funny, you finally knew enough to trust Gaster. It seemed now, you were just roommates that couldn’t leave each other’s proximity unless that meant bending time and space ‘cause that's a great thing to do!
“This is like studying for a psychology exam when you haven't even started college,” you muttered, watching the skeletal scientist pace your room.
“I’m still unsure of how you regained that piece of your soul when it was taken by someone else, it just doesn't make any sense…” He was making a big deal out of the fact Chara took half your soul, and somewhere in the midst of your NDE, you took it back… until Gaster accidentally absorbed it while spectating, and solidified, becoming fully real in whichever timeline he pleased. Recently, he was staying in yours a lot more, probably for safety concerns. You didn't really understand why he had to overthink it. To be honest, you always wondered how your own bones moved whenever you did various things. Now you knew.
“Hey,” you called and he paused, looking towards you. “I think your collar bone is jutting out a bit farther than usual.” He sighed, then continued ranting quietly to himself. “So I knew this kid who didn't have a sternum once because he was so tall… or something like that. Anyway, he had a bad case of MB.”
“MB?” Gaster inquired in the middle of his whispering.
“Yeah, man boobs.” His eye sockets narrowed at you, making the cracks running from his from them widen a little bit more. “Can I touch your face?” you asked randomly.
“I want to touch your face.”
“Why on earth would you want to do that?”
“... I’m curious.” 
He placed two fingers against his temple, huffing. “Perhaps… later.”
You grinned. “Awesome.”


It was like a game to see how many times Grillby could scare you in a week. Lately, you had been keeping a chart by your front door to keep count. No matter how many times it had happened, and how you tensed and prepared yourself, there was just no possible way you could get away from your apartment without your heart racing. It was becoming funnier each time, which was seemingly surprising to the fire-monster. It also appeared he was becoming more comfortable with talking to you, although he added his little breaks of silence as he pleased, sometimes just to see if you'd get irritated. It was a month since you first encountered him, and you stood outside your door, chatting quietly with him as two residents walked by.
“I don't know what you see in them, (Y/N),” the older lady chided and you instantly silenced.
“I see a lot more in them than I’ll ever see in you,” you grunted as she prepared to descend the stairs.
Under his breath, you heard Grillby singing a small excerpt of lyrics from “This Girl Is On Fire” and you laughed, although you were beginning to question where he was getting all his puns from. He didn't seem like the type to make them himself, or maybe you already knew who was mentioning them to him.
“What are you doing later?” 
Grillby gestured to his name tag.
“Respecting your right to remain silent, again, huh?”
He nodded and you swore you saw a grin appear in those flames of his.
“Maybe I’ll swing by..?”
His flames flickered and sparked uncontrollably for a moment and then he crossed his arms.
“What?!” He continued to stare sternly down at you. “Okay, the poker thing was a total one time occurrence. Jeesh, you act like people never learn from their mistakes…” He continued. “Fine! I’ll just walk there after you close down, I don't have anything better to do.” The Tsundereplane in you was showing.
He did that grin thing again, then turned around and began walking away.
“You know, it's rude to leave without saying goodbye!”
He waved before the elevator doors shut on him.


With any other person, it would have been weird to realize he had completely memorized what times you would show up at the mall for a nice cup of joe. And yet, your conversations with him were so carefree and you oddly loved the way he spoke highly of himself while encouraging you to try new things, that you simply skipped past the awkward phase and immediately became friends.
“I just don’t know. Commitment is kind of scary..?” You were venting to him, hoping to get some relationship advice out of the whole ordeal. His metallic hand was cupped over yours, the other stirring his frappé’s straw mindlessly while he watched you intently. You weren't used to the direct attention, but you could surely get used to it.
“Perhaps you just haven't meant the right one yet?” His lips curved kindly and it oddly reminded you of a feline. “Of course, I would know relationships can be scary, but if you're never comfortable with them, obviously something is just not right…”
The whole conversation sounded cliché. You didn't mind. “I guess that's true,” you paused, sipping your drink, “but I've just never really had anything that didn't leave me a nervous wreck.”
He lifted his hand from your and tucked a loose strand of your hair behind your ear. It didn't occur to you how romantic the gesture was. “That just goes to show you haven't met the right one yet!” His hand drifted back down. “You've got your whole life to explore love, don't worry - just love~!” 
You giggled at his small speech and the bright expression that came upon his face, although in the back of your mind you felt like “love” had a different meaning…
“Anything for you, Metta. Anything for you,” you laughed, patting his hand. His smile showed he felt mutual, but his eyes told a different story.


Napstablook / Napstabot: 
Once you got past the multiple layers of Naptablook’s self-doubt, he was a nice person to be around, really. You disliked the times in which he convinced himself he wasn't good enough for this, or that, or them, but you were sure you could pull him out of the habit. You two often hung out in the library and made music tracks together, giggling and suggesting different instruments, sharing looks of amusement when a librarian hushed you. When you were around, it seemed nothing could destroy him, but even Superman has his Kryptonite. Still, you tried to shield him from the words that would make his HP lower.
“What about… hm, a little more piano?”
His fingers lifted, doing a few quick motions to open a little list of piano music and you pressed your head against his own in order to hear a variety through the headphones. He listened to everything so loud, it wasn't hard. You pointed at one title, other fingers tapping along your thigh to keep up with the high keys. Napstablook added it to the soundtrack with no question, and restarted the song to review it with the new addition. A shy smile spread on his lips, and he glanced at you.
“I… like it,” he whispered, and you grinned, nuzzling your cheek against his own.
“I do too,” you whispered back. The music flowing to your eardrums was just the right mix of spooky and beautiful, and because of that fact, Napstablook kept it on repeat, uploading it to YouTube so you both would be able to listen to it as you wished. You loved days like those.


After the “deep-seeded romantic feelings” were tossed to the side, Papyrus was open (he tried to seem hesitant) to becoming friends. He was amazed you, too, could cook a mean spaghetti and practically bowed down to you when he tasted it for the first time.
“HUMAN, WHY DID YOU NOT TELL ME OF YOUR SKILLS BEFORE?” For being thin, he was surprisingly strong and had picked you up by the armpits, raising you to be eye-level as you grinned, listening to his wonderments about your culinary “expertise”.
“I dunno. Figured it wasn't super important.”
“YOU SOUND PAINFULLY LIKE MY BROTHER.” That comment oddly stung you. His gloved hands slipped behind your back as he squished you against his chest. It was hard to breathe, but you could managed. “EVERYTHING IS IMPORTANT. ESPECIALLY WHEN IT INCLUDES SPAGHETTI.”
You wiggled one of your arms from his embrace and patted the front of costume lightly. “Sure, sure.”
Okay, so, maybe the whole deep-seeded feelings thing wasn't totally abandoned.


After a month of swinging around his stand, Sans seemed to settle, although you could tell he was still wary of you. You never knew why, but let him keep his reasons secret. Even so, conversation came easy for you both and you found it hard not to visit. He indulged himself in your interests on reading people, but kept his thoughts on others as more of a joke than poem-worthy.
You subtly gestured toward a businessman trying to call a cab. “What about him?”
Sans was quiet for a breath, until what slipped from his teeth made you go white. “He looks like he needs to get boned.”
You covered your mouth with your hand to silence the laughter threatening to boil over. “Sans! You can't just say that!” came your muffled chide.
His grin grew wider. “C’mon, look at ‘im. That is not the face of a man who hasn't been to the bone zone recently.”
You sighed, rolling your eyes and letting your hand drop against the wooden counter. “As if you would know.”
If he had eyebrows, you're sure one of them would've raised. “You saying I don't have enough experience?”
You choked on air, looking with wide eyes at the skeleton. “You're all bone!” 
“And that's supposed to cause a dilemma, how?”
You hid your head in your arms, quietly chuckling to yourself.


Their dining room was quiet despite the clinking of silverware against plates, and you occasionally glanced up from your food to make sure Frisk and Toriel were still there. Their home was rather quaint, every room that you had seen so far painted with pastel tones of yellow or violet. Toriel had welcomed you warmly with Frisk standing close behind, eyeing you carefully like they knew you and were trying to place a name to a face. You brushed it off, taking it as a normal kid’s curiosity and instead engaging in light conversation with the monster. Your assumptions about her cooking were right, everything that was set out on front of you was thoroughly filling and pleasing to the taste buds. You figured comments on the fabulous quality were unnecessary after your multiple “mmm”s of delight, and Toriel appeared happy.
“So what do you do, (Y/N)?” she asked as she wiped her hands on a napkin - and not the cheap kind.
“Oh, um…” You swallowed down your previous bite, dapping around your mouth with the handkerchief. “I currently just paint and sell the artwork online, but I've been thinking about applying for something else.”
Her eyebrows raised and she smiled. “That sounds wonderful. Perhaps you can give Frisk some art lessons,” Toriel suggested, nodding over to the child at the other end of the table. Frisk smiled.
“Yeah, I think I could handle that. I'm no professional though…”
“Ah, well, that is no problem, I don't think we need a professional just yet.”
Glancing at Toriel and Frisk, you had a feeling that they were going to easily become a part of your extended family.


“So what was your name?”
“Sounds familiar.”
“There's 7 billion humans in the world, and no one can really be original anymore, so…”
“Your name’s common?”
“Pretty much.”
The pizza joint wasn't that bad, really. It was small and only had a few two-seat tables, but the scent drifting from the kitchen and the calm atmosphere compared to the chill of night outside made up for it all. Plus, the pizza was incredible, and making conversation with this new Undyne figure made it feel like an epic adventure - er, even if you weren't actually doing any adventuring. In a way, you thought she was a bit similar to you, despite your contradicting strengths and energy levels. You could both mellow out smoothly and have small talk without one questioning if they were saying enough. Maybe that was because of the food, though.
“What's yours?”
“...” You paused in your chewing, surveying her. She soon froze too.
“...” You continued staring, brows furrowing as she steadily grew to look more confused.
“Is there something on my face?”
You grinned suddenly, chomping away on your pizza. “Nah, I’m just fuckin’ with you,” you said through a stuffed mouth. “I heard you liked japes.”
Her red eyebrows strung together as one. “From who?”
You tried to recall a name, and found it odd that you would know something so narrow about someone you just met. “... Can't remember.”
She rolled her eyes and kicked you under the table, making you grin through the pizza crust.
“Gross. Close your mouth while you eat, chump.”

Chapter Text

Cuddling: Platonic Snuggling Edition!
(with mentions of a super skinny love)


It was usually on your movie and anime nights. You would endure her Mew Mew Kissy Cutie binge-a-thon by throwing your legs over her lap and pressing your bottom against the outside of her thigh. Your chest would be mere inches away from making contact with her shoulder, one arm on the back of the couch, daring you to just wrap it around her shoulders. But you wouldn't, taking joy in the distance as it gave you free range to explore her many expressions throughout the shows. Once she slipped out of her awkward phase and indulged herself in whatever was playing on TV, her hands would drape over your legs, the back of her neck brushing against your fist. You resisted the urge to reach out and brush your knuckles against the skin of her cheek. She was too good for you.


It's a beautiful day outside. Birds are singing. Flowers are blooming. On days like these, kids like you… were interlocking arms with a huge, fuzzy monster king. After a few weeks of being friends, you noticed his armor steadily being replaced with the clothing of what you thought a tacky tourist would wear - floral shirt, khakis. Even his crown disappeared, and without the sign of authority, his presence seemed merely inviting, warming. You felt like you could tell him all of your secrets, but then he became one. So, you enjoyed the warmth of the sun and his fur against your skin, wind caressing your face with gentle breaths. Your fingers would entangle in the white strands, tugging carefully out, then indulging themselves once more. You would watch with deep interest as his mono-scaled chest raised and compressed heavily, while he would pretend not to notice and smile. It was peaceful, unlike you felt you remembered.


Flowers happened to be soft, and the flowers Asriel surrounded himself in always seemed to spring back up after being crushed. It made it easy to lie in them without much worry. And so you did, with him, watching the beautiful array of children’s colors paint the sky as you rested your head against his chest. Your nails would pick mindlessly at the seams of his sweater and he didn't seem to mind, one hand cupping your shoulder and the other against his stomach. In his chest, you swore you heard not a pulse, but a humming. A mother's lullaby resonated from his chest to match the young canvas in the atmosphere, and some days you found it hard not to fall asleep. His figure was the one key factor in your painted sunset. He was the brush.


Bleu (Nice Cream Guy):
Sometimes he would come over after rolling his cart into a storage unit, and you both would enjoy a mug of hot chocolate, staring out your favorite window. Your shoulder would brush against his as his head rested on top of your own. At points, his ears would droop lazily over your eyes and you would giggle, trying to blow them back up, but your breath alone would never be enough, and he would laugh, too. His whiskers tickled your face whenever he shifted, and you tried to hold back your amusement; you never wanted to ruin the silence. Not then, not with him. Not ever. With him, there was solitude, but there was not loneliness.


BP (Burgerpants):
Eventually you got comfortable enough with him to hang around outside his work when he had breaks. You would both sit on complementary milk crates, and you would kick the back of his foot playfully. That would continue before he wrapped his leg around yours, effectively trapping you until he found the need to leave. You never struggled, instead sighing in defeat as you slumped against him, surveying his phone as he scrolled through it. The smoke from his cigarette would drift straight into your face and he would try to wave it away, apologizing, but you never minded. If it meant being next to him, you would endure anything. Anything…


What was the point of going home? There was none. So you stayed with them, lying near the abyss comfortably, surrounded by soft grass and moss. You would press yourself tightly against their side, feeling oddly protected by their closeness, although you knew what they had done to you. It felt so easily forgivable, and as so, you continued divulging yourself in their warmth. Their arm would be your pillow, and their hand would run gently through your hair, carefully ridding it of any knots. One leg tucked over their own, you breathed in their musty scent and sighed. To you, it felt nostalgic, and reminded you of days you couldn't remember - memories you couldn't reach. But lying with them, that didn't matter. The world was just a place that you were, and who you happened to be was just a name.


Every night, you would let him slip into the brightly painted pot and you would bring him inside so he wouldn't get cold. You would stay up late with him, not minding the fake annoyance in his tone at the repetitive task of “ripping” him from the ground and “forcing” him into a “confined area”. His meaningless complaining would always be hushed as you began to pet his petals, being careful to avoid the thorns on his stem. He would struggle to keep his expression twisted, but it was never a match to your gentle touches. You never would've guessed flowers slept until his eyes shut and his mouth set in a neutral line. He almost looked sad while unconscious, stem arching as his pistil hung low, golden petals framing his face. You would leave one hand on the nightstand where you would place him each night, before you fell asleep yourself.


Mornings brought coffee, and coffee brought Frisk. You would drag a chair over to sit next to them before plopping down and settling into the seat, grasping their hand and squeezing it kindly. Some days meant no talk or charades, which was perfectly fine with you, as that one hour of silence before work was relaxing. It also meant being close to Frisk, their head resting on your shoulder as their fingers danced along your knuckles. They would prod curiously at your rings sometimes, twisting and turning them in examination. You didn't mind, and smiled as they did, their hands soft like a feather against your skin. It made you forget about your drink, and by the time you actually took a sip, it would be cold. You never told Frisk that, worried that they'd feel guilty. You never wanted them to stop.


Gaster wasn't much for “the cuddling”, but you would catch him off guard sometimes. If he was scribbling on paper, doing random math to sort the timelines, you would cross your arms below his collar, peering over his damaged skull like a curious toddler. He wouldn't admit it, but it reminded him of Sans and Papyrus when they were children, and he was somehow comforted by that. He would never talk about them, really, but you knew, and let him remain quiet. Once he seemed tired of your backward embrace, you would hop up on the desk and trace the cracks near his eyes, stopping just above his browline, then back-tracking. He seemed insecure about them, at times, but you assured him they were just complimentary to his features. When that wasn't enough, you would tell him stories about your childhood when you broke some of your bones, and other times you would show him your scars. You were both accepting of each other’s flaws, and so you both remained never far apart.


He was hot. Er, temperature-wise. But, it wasn't uncomfortably hot. It was like lying outside in the dew-covered grass on a sunny day. Sitting in the sand as the tide slid against the shore. Curling near a fireplace that crackled peacefully. He was all of those things, mixed together. And it comforted you, to the point of where you would both sit at his bar when the customers all filtered out and left, and you’d wrap your arms around his waist. He’d pull your stool closer before draping an arm around your shoulder, the other resting against his lap, gloved hand teasing your knee as his fingers flexed and caressed the fabric of your jeans occasionally. His clothing always felt like it was fresh out of the dryer (and smelled like it too), almost daring you to just unbutton the vest and wear it yourself. You were pretty sure he wouldn't appreciate that, though. So you would hug him, watching the faint whips of his flames travelling up his neck, drowsy. You never noticed the slight difference in control they had whenever you were near.


He was a rule-breaker, believing he was above everyone as he settled his boots on the table. You would hug your frappe closely as his arm hung around the back of your chair, one of his metallic hands on your thigh. Occasionally, he would lift it to make a hand gesture as he spoke, but it would always settle back perfectly once he was finished. His robotic voice was nice to listen to, his tone a bit higher than a usual male’s, but attractive and magnetic nonetheless. You could understand why he always brought a crowd, but dreaded when it came near, as that meant he had to leave. So you would enjoy his presence as it was there, leaning slightly against him as you sipped from your green straw, chirping out small comments whenever they were needed. He made you feel wanted, and you couldn't get enough.


Napstablook / Napstabot:
The chairs at the library were generously cushioned, to say the least. With that in mind, you and Blooky often shared one large chair in the back of the library as you both listened to multitudes of music. His hands were always occupied with the keyboard and touchpad, but at points you couldn't help but grasp one of them and survey it momentarily. He always blushed whenever you did, and you would nuzzle your cheek against his to make it even deeper. His insecurities all disappeared when your side was practically connected with his own, and you smiled to know that. The tunes playing through his headphones set the mood as you both relaxed, never minding when people walked by and gazed at you fondly. All you saw was each other, and all you heard was the music you made together.


He loved when you asked him questions about what his life was like, or how the underground was. For you, it was always about him, and he was enthused by that. His brother was mildly concerned when he spoke highly about the human he had “platonic dates” with in the park, but the day Papyrus failed to come home at the usual time set the sibling out on a hunt. It was nothing serious, really, you just caught him in your arms and you wouldn't let go. It's not like either of you minded, anyways, the side embracing was just a thing now. It seemed he would scold you whenever your hands travelled too low, reminding you that he was your friend, and the only thing he loved that was connected to you… was your spaghetti. Despite that, he patted your hair softly, as if he was rewarding a dog, and kept his innocent smile light. When Sans took in the scene from afar, he was relieved, and chuckled a bit to himself.


Stands were boring really. After an hour of nobody coming around, you both just kind of gave up looking professional and sat on the wooden counter. It was edging on winter, now, and the breeze was chilly most days you visited. He would notice the goosebumps on your flesh and unzip his jacket, allowing you to stuff your arms inside and hug tightly around his rib cage. Honestly, he didn't really need the coat, as he couldn't feel temperature changes anyway, but he enjoyed your closeness and the smell of your hair. Besides, you didn't seem bothered by the fact he was all bone, and a small smile came upon your face every time he let you delve into the warmth of the fabric. You abandoned your writing pad for him, and he would read your most recent poem as he peered over your head. The people-watching seemed to have turned into, Sans-watching, as he would find small details relating to him in every one of the poems. He never understood how you knew so much…


After giving Frisk a small art lesson, you would both wander over to Toriel in her reading chair, sitting down beside her legs as she read you random facts about snails or small snipets of history from the underground. When she told about the human magicians that trapped the monsters underground, she would read aloud their names with a certain tone, as if they all meant something to her. She always paused, hesitated, before naming the second one, and you wondered why. Instead of asking for answers, you settled against the fabric of her dress, leaning your head against her knee. Your breathing would slow, muscles relaxing as her voice filled your ears. There was never a more peaceful moment in your life.


She tried to act like she didn't care about physical contact from you, but in fact, she craved it. After the little late-night pizza dinner, you hung out a lot and she convinced to watch a butt-load of anime, cooing over certain characters, and growling the names of others. You would smile at her reactions, hugging one of her biceps as your curled legs rested against her thighs. The ends of her curling hair would tickle your cheek when you leaned your head back, and sometimes you lifted one hand up to run your fingers through it, but soon lowered it instead. You wouldn't do anything to risk distracting her from her show, and yet, what you didn't know is that she was only focused on you, every minute and every hour of each episode. It wouldn't have mattered which was her favorite, all she cared about was you.

Chapter Text

Muffet Scenarios:


You knew how hard it was to start a restaurant and afford to keep it going. In the middle of your teen years, you had wanted to build a bakery, and with that much you were successful. But business is problematic when no one knows you exist, and soon, you couldn't afford the bills with nothing in return. So, standing outside of a newly opened parlor where your own shop once stood, you sighed. You stared gloomily through the darkened glass windows, placing your hand against one in some sort of hope that it would bring it good luck. You were surprised to see only a minute later, an unfamiliar monster cheerily walked inside, bells jingling happily. You returned your gaze to the window and immediately reeled your arm back to see another hand aligned itself on the other side of the glass. It soon disappeared and you scurried away.


Meeting... Again:
You returned to the parlor the next week, curious to see how business was run there, and how it looked from the inside. You hesitated before opening the door, but soon found the courage to step inside. Instantaneously, you wished you hadn’t as the tickling feeling of something crawling up your arm appeared right afterward. You gulped down the urge to screech and went rigid, not daring to glance.
“Ah, ah, ah,” a smooth voice scolded. It sounded directly behind you. “No crawling on the human guests, I hear they're a little too jumpy… Ahuhuhu~” A pair of hands grasped your arm as another set cupped just below it, creating a landing for the (what you noticed to be) spider, and it obeyed without a second thought. You were about to question how a spider could be trained until you realized, there were four hands, coming from the same figure. Once two of them released you, you stumbled back a bit and surveyed the creature before you. Scratch four - the lady had six arms, all swinging happily besides the set holding the bug carefully. She placed it down on a table before turning back to you, smiling.
“Ahuhuhu~ You look a little pale, dearie. Would you like some tea?” If they didn't look like a spider, you would say they were constantly purring. 
You managed to find your voice. “U-Uh,” you grimaced at the crack in your tone, “sure.”
“Right this way~” She grabbed your hand softly with one of her own, leading you toward a purple counter. She left you on one side of it and climbed around to the other, preparing something with her back turned to you. You glanced around, tense and hoping another bug would not dare to use you as a practice for rock-climbing. “U-Um, I like your… your clothing,” you said to cool the atmosphere.
“Ahuhuhu~” was her only response. And not a moment later, she swiveled on her heel and held out a black teacup, purple cobweb designs painted on the glass delicately. The drink looked a shade of violet, but you took it nonetheless, sipping carefully. It actually tasted somewhat like Earl Grey, perhaps just with a few extra sugar cubes. You smiled up at the spider woman, and she smiled back.
“I’m (Y/N),” you shyly informed her.
“Muffet,” she introduced suddenly. “And I hope to see you around more, dearie~”


Becoming Friends:
After a few weeks of visiting her parlor off and on, she agreed to meet you for lunch at a café in the city. You were beginning to regret it, everyone was giving Muffet sideways glances, and a sinking feeling of guilt settled in your stomach. Sitting at the table, you couldn't find enough of your lost appetite to take a bite of the cinnamon roll you had ordered.
“What's wrong, dearie?” Muffet’s voice broke you from you vegetative state.
“I'm sorry,” you muttered, closing the lid on your cinnamon roll.
“And why is that?”
Your shoulders lifted then fell and you stood up from your seat, solemnly holding a hand out for Muffet to take. She did, and you led her out to the sidewalk, starting a simple stroll down the street.
“I’m sorry,” you repeated, “I didn't know we would get that much judgment.”
“Judgment? Ahuhuhu~” Another one of her hands settled on your back, rubbing comforting circles between your shoulder blades. “You were only worried about that?”
Your brows furrowed - she wasn't upset? You surveyed the cracks in the pavement shamefully.
She took your silence as an answer, and a third set of fingers began petting your hair, soothingly running through the strands. “What does it matter when I’m with you? Ahuhuhu~”
You smiled.


It was a routine now, to grab something from the café on her off days, hurriedly eat it, then take a walk down the road. You would find somewhere to rest not long after, having small discussions about pastries or the weather - anything really. But there were days that didn't need words, and you would hold her hand silently instead. One other hand would trace patterns on your slouched back, and the third would run through your hair. People walking by would give you odd looks, but you learned to ignore it, relaxing under her constant touch. After a while, it would be a crime not to lean against her, so you would, and the pattern-tracing hand would cease, instead resting across your waist. She would hum quietly, and you’d feel the vibration resonating in her chest. You felt like a child in her grasp, but on top of the world nonetheless.

Chapter Text

Monster Kid Scenarios


There they were. You know, the JL. It's the first time you've actually encountered them here, but no worries, you’ll see them again on a later date. Still, watching them now, surrounding what you assumed to be a monster, prodding it with their protest signs, it made you sick. The world you lived in was so unfair - once people got into a routine of things, nothing was ever supposed to change. Gay marriage was a sin, colored skin meant immediate disrespect, female parts evoked others yelling, “Go back to the kitchen!” And now, monsters were just a part of that trend. You knew they didn't want to harm anybody, even if your kind really deserved a swift kick to the ass, yet nobody cared about that. Your kind lacked empathy, and you were not about to let the number of understanding citizens continue to decrease, so you stomped your way over to the little rally of idiots and asked that one of them give you their board. They complied, urging you to join. Instead, you gripped the handle firmly and lifted it back, gaining enough momentum in your swing to knock the JL member to the ground. Oh yeah, that felt good. By then, the other idiots had heard the deafening crack of a few bones - no biggie - and one by one they dropped their things, scurrying off. You looked back at the member they had left and shook your head, then turned to the one figure that still remained. It was a round creature, yellow-skinned and sporting a striped shirt, about your height. It stared at you with wide eyes, trembling slightly before it gave you a broken smile. You released the sign and it clattered to the pavement, revealing your reddening hands. You and the monster had a brief staring contest before your brows furrowed, and you straightened your back.
“Go home,” you commanded, then turned and fled the scene.


Meeting... Again:
“Hey! Yo, wait up!”
You turned on your heel, glancing over your shoulder and huffing. It was the same monster from before, hurriedly skipping towards you, seemingly having trouble keeping balanced. You already knew what was going to happen and sighed, turning a bit more and holding out your arms. The monster skidded to a stop and a flash of fear came upon their face until they fell into your grasp. You rightened them and pulled back, crossing your arms sternly.
“Yo, thanks! How’d you know I was going to fall?” You shrugged simply, continuing your intimidating stare. “I just want to thank you for last week. Who knows what would've happened if you hadn't showed up, haha…” Their voice trailed and their eyes cast downward. You tried to think of something to say, but couldn't. Instead, you just roughly patted him on the head, causing one of his eyes to close until you removed your hand.
“Yo, can you walk me home? I can't get up the stairs very easily.” 
You looked around before sighing. “Yeah, whatever. Where to?”
He nodded his head in a certain direction and you both began padding along the sidewalk, silent. Of course, that was prior to when he felt the need to converse.
“Yo, do you not like talking much? You're super quiet.”
You avoided the question. “What's your name?”
“People like to call me MK.”
“Well, MK, I just suck at making friends.”
“Yo! I used to know a kid with same problem! Their name was (Y- … What's with that weird look on your face?”
“I just got the feeling I know who you're talking about.”


Becoming Friends:
Whenever you both ran into each other, it was practically your task to walk him home, no matter how far away it was. He never forced you to, but the truth was, you never minded. It was nice having someone to talk to every now and then, someone who tried. You never had a good family life, and friends were few to none, so the things MK brought to the table were all new to you. It felt nice, more than you’d care to admit. But your shell was beginning to crack.
“Yo, we should totally get breakfast. They're going to have free doughnuts at the grocery store.”
“M’kay,” was your simple response as you scrolled through your phone.
You glanced up at the monster walking beside you. His face contorted in confusion. “What do you mean what?”
“You said my name.”
“No, I just said ‘m'kay'.”
“Yeah, but that's my name.”
“MK, ‘m'kay’ is a different word entirely.”
“They sound totally the same to me.”
You both when quiet for a moment, before you looked up at each other and began laughing.


He was never capable of hugging, and physical contact was questionable for you. But he grew on you, and sometimes you just needed the closeness, the comfort. You had your share of days when the yelling and arguing and fighting just became too much and you would walk yourself down to his home, sitting on the front porch until he arrived himself. You would help him up the steps and then you would press him against you, crying against his shirt, gripping his back as he asked you what was wrong. He soon learned he would never receive an answer, and instead consoled you with funny stories about his friends Undyne and Papyrus, leaning his head against yours. The fact that he could never wrap a pair of arms around you and embrace you as close as possible made him insecure at points, but once your sobbing quieted and you just shivered against him, he realized you didn't need someone to hold you - you needed to hold someone. And he was fine with being that someone.

Chapter Text

Accidental Kiss:


You leaned over the side of her desk, reaching for a package of those famous, instant noodles so you could snack happily on something as you hung around Alphy's home. She complained half-heartedly as your reaching arms wrinkled some of her papers and bumped into her laptop. You put one elbow down and turned to face her and make some witty, sarcastic remark, but it turns out your depth perception was terribly off as your lips brushed across her snout. The motion instantly silenced both of you, heat crawling up your neck in surprising volumes as your friend’s face was drowned in a blush. “Hey, you actually look good in red,” you complimented, trying to play it off. Her expression remained unamused.


What a shame you were practically a foot and a half shorter than the king, and decided, “Hey, you know what would be cool? If I wove a flower crown in his fur!” With him sitting down and you starting at the back of his head with a basket full of miniature carnations, it was easy-peasy. But, the more you moved around to the front of him, the more you found yourself stretching and struggling to tie loose ends. That led you to your position now, sitting on one of his thighs, brows furrowed as you reached for tufts of white fur. What a mistake to become so concentrated in your work that you leaned too close in order to survey the end result. Asgore seemed pleasantly shocked and you quickly scrambled to your feet, covering your mouth. You stared at him for a few moments, then began laughing. “That kinda tickled,” you managed through your amusement. He chuckled, too.


You were both lying there, and your hands entangled in the many stems of golden flowers that seemingly sprouted around you, suddenly refusing to grow in a large circle where you and Asriel often rested. You wondered if it had any deep, hidden meaning, but he told you it was just because the ground was packed down. You had long since dismissed the thought of uprooting even one of the flowers, but it seemed your companion had not, as he called for your attention, telling you he wanted to place one of the smaller ones in your hair. You wondered why he couldn't do it by the ear that was already faced towards him, but obliged. How could you have known he had lain so close to you? Simple; you couldn't. And you immediately pulled back once your nose rubbed against his, as though the action had sent an electric shock through you. You both surveyed each other silently for a minute, and then he decided to speak. “Is that the ‘es-mo' kiss you were talking about?”
You giggled. “Eskimo,” you corrected, “and yes it was.”
“... I kinda liked it.” You rolled your eyes.


Bleu (Nice Cream Guy):
You had a handful of nieces and nephews, all of which you could handle perfectly, and adored with all your heart’s capacity. Trixy, that was the name of one - short for Beatrice - was particularly fond of you and often chose nights where her parents would go out, and you would be elected to watch her. Needless to say, she was young, and your usual act of kindness before she fell asleep was that you would kiss her on the forehead. You never believed the small sign of affection would grow to be a mindless habit. But it had. And you learned that when you were sitting at the window with Bleu, steaming mug in both of your hands. He was talking normally, excited speech occasionally taking over when he brought up something business-related, but otherwise, you were just comfortably listening to him. Soon, you found yourself out of hot chocolate and quietly excused yourself, standing up from your chair. And that's when it happened. Like a simple motion of waving a hand at someone you know, you just leaned down a placed your lips against his forehead, smiling. Only when you pulled away and saw his shocked expression did it dawn on you. You stuttered an apology and fought to explain yourself, but you both ended up laughing at one another’s expressions. It was a day to look back on… 


BP (Burgerpants):
You had caught a nasty cold in the midst of the winter season, but refused to let that stop you from visiting your friend, as you had promised to always be there on his lunch break to keep him company - which actually translates to: “maintain his sanity”, eheh. Still, along with your illness carried the usual symptoms of a runny nose, fever, and a cough. A dry, itchy, irritating cough. So, you can imagine it was the one time when the smoke from his cigarette actually evoked a reaction from you. He was a mess once your hacking started, apologizing as you buried your mouth in the crook of your arm. Finding a small break, you reached for his light to angrily throw it on the ground and stomp it out, but that completely backfired when he turned his head to figure out what you were doing. Never in your life did you think you’d find yourself in a situation where you were kissing a literal cat, but hey! There you were! Out of instinct, once scooting away and pulling on a shocked expression, you licked your lips. Your eyebrows curved downward, the corners of your lips following suit. “You taste like fucking tuna,” you muttered, and wiped your mouth on the back of your sleeve. “I am slightly disappointed…”


Chara couldn't return to society, you learned that quickly. It was an obvious fact that they would be considered dangerous with their threatening remarks, and intimidating demeanor, not to mention how they completely acted on impulse. Still, you couldn't find it in your heart to leave them, convinced you could set them on a path that would be suitable in public with just a little practice. It was easier said than done, and you found yourself spending weeks on that mountain, lecturing them whenever you felt the need. You were getting rather irritated knowing your friend wasn't bothering to listen to your rants anymore, and your hand gestures were becoming a little more frantic, balance swaying as you became desperate for their attention. At once, you reached out to grasp the collar of their shirt, but found your motions too quick and your feet not quick enough. You fell forward, your lips harshly knocking against theirs in a sickening crack before you slipped onto the ground, the breath leaving your lungs. You lied there for a while, gasping as Chara groaned in pain, cupping their then bleeding nose as if that would help anything. You decided after that, it was better to lecture on level ground.


He was cold, and being your sort-of housemate, you couldn't accept that. Everyone that walked into your home was destined to be catered to, treated like royalty as you made sure they were completely and utterly comfortable. It was just your way. And so, with the notion that you would regulate his temperature, you went through the task of cutting up an old blanket to be his size, then sewing the edges so the seams were clean. By the time you were finished, it had been a few hours, but you ignored that and wrapped the newly fitted blanket around him, tucking the edges beneath his pot. He couldn't help the contented look that came across his harsh features, and for once, he looked like he really could pass for being a friendly flower. Smiling, you petted back his petals then placed a kiss between his eyes, followed by you quickly scooping up your fabric supplies and rushing off to put them away. So maybe it wasn't an accident, but you always claimed it was.


You were sipping your coffee, watching shadows dance across the array of patio tables while Frisk hooked their arm around yours. It was one of those quiet days, where neither of you had anything to say, and nothing needed to be said anyway. Asgore had brought these kind of moments up, as he had been a witness to one of them, complimenting you both on your connection with each other. You wished you could have told him about your interrupting of Frisk’s timeline - explain it wasn't fate but destiny. As you watched their fingers tap a rhythm against your wrist, you knew that had you not interacted with them, destiny would not have taken its alternate route. The patterned tapping paused, then they poked you once, grabbing your attention. You glanced at them and they pointed at your cup, eyes shimmering as a small smile pulled across their lips. You snorted and handed them the cup, watching them take a sip curiously. “Hey, isn’t that considered an indirect kiss?” Frisk seemed to choke, and stared at you in disbelief. You broke down in laughter.


“So why do you have the cracks anyway?” It was a question you had never dared to ask before, afraid it was too sensitive of a topic. It seemed to have brought a slight grimace to his face, but it quickly vanished as he twirled a pen between his skeletal fingers.
“There was a machine - one of my own creations…” He seemed thoughtful, reflecting on what had happened. “I fell into it, really, and it just crushed me.” You had a feeling he didn't mean in a physical way.
“What was it for?” The inquiry slipped from your mouth, usually you weren't so nosy.
“To travel through timelines… Bend the space-time continuum to my will.” He chuckled grimly to himself. “I wanted to go back before the children died, and see if I could change something…” He glanced at you, and you wiped the sad expression from your features. “But my existence was scattered and warped all over the dimensions. There was no way I could interact with reality; I wasn't real after that.”
“It broke you,” you muttered, completing his thought. He nodded. “But you're here now.” He tried to smile but found himself incapable, and you understood why. You arched your back and quickly brushed your lips just above his right eye, before pulling back and realizing what you had done. “Jesus, I’m sorry - I didn't mean -”
He silenced you by raising his hand, that broken grin coming upon his face. “It is fine. I understand.” And there would never be a moment where he didn't.


Dedicated to Chrissy for being the real MVP. Even with one little conversation, you've helped me out a lot~
He had been gone for too long - or, in your head, he had. In actuality, it had only been five minutes, but that was five minutes too long and you stood up from your stool, boots padding against the wooden floor panels as you neared the door Grillby had exited through. You pushed half-heartedly on it, expecting it to be easy to open, but your eyebrows strung together when it failed to budge. “Ah,” you spoke to yourself, “I get it.” You grabbed the door’s metal handle and pulled. The hinges didn't even creak. You grunted in annoyance and pulled again, fighting the frame until your rubber soles squeaked against the panels and you found yourself on the ground. You released the handle, then quickly jumped up and brushed yourself off, ruffling your hair back into place when a red light flicked on above the door and it swung open. You honestly tried to step back, but weren't fast enough as it jammed against your nose, sending your hand flying up to make sure it wasn't broken. Luckily enough for you, it hadn't even started to bleed when Grillby stepped out the back and surveyed you, seeming disappointed. “What?” you seethed through your hand. “Don't look at me like I’ve done something wrong!” If he had eyes, he would have rolled them. Then, he grasped either side of your face in his gloved hands and pulled you towards him. You stumbled a bit, but regained your composure enough for the lower half of his face to brush across the bridge of your nose. You pulled back, face hot - either from him or embarrassment - as your eyes narrowed. You both were silent for a spell until your hands dropped, defeated, at your sides. “Can we go now?”


“You know why I hate thinking about relationships?” Your chin rested in your palm, your lips pursed as you stared out the wide, glass window, watching people stroll by.
“Hmm?” his questioning hum sounded more like fans whirring.
“Because I always believe things will change.” Your eyes flickered down to survey passing shoes. “Like, that person you grew attracted to will just… instantly change, y’know? As if there's a silent rule that everything needs to be different.” You lifted your head and turned to the robot who was gazing at you curiously. His concerned features smoothed when you looked at him, but you still noticed. Nothing had been the same since your nightmare; he seemed cautious of you. “Why do I even worry about that? I swear it never happens.” Your eyes grazed his features, resting momentarily on his lips before moving on. There were little details on someone’s face that your brain would take note of to decipher what they were feeling - but you couldn't read him. You continued your rant anyway: “I always say I'm scared of commitment, but honestly I think I’m just terrified of change.” You paused, then sighed. “It stresses me out horribly.”
“Shh,” you wondered how he made breathy sounds, but it slipped from your mind when one of his hands was placed on the back of your head, brushing the hair out. “Everything will be fine. You’ll find someone that deserves you, and you'll forget all about this.” You hoped by “this”, he didn't mean the meetings you had together. And as if to reassure yourself to that, you leaned forward to whisper more of your concerns, but found yourself too close. You faintly pondered what his lips were made out of as they landed on your top one - a little off target. Perhaps silicone - neoprene? If you ever got to meet Alphys, you would be sure to ask. And you were too indulged in these thoughts to hear Mettaton’s nervous giggles as he pulled back. Embarrassment failed to be something you felt as you reached a finger out to poke at his lips. Seriously, what were they made of?


MK (Monster Kid):
You knew the possibility of it happened was actually very high considering he tripped over his own feet and struggled with balance every day. You just did not expect it to happen today, but hey, expect the unexpected, right? You were doing the usual act of spinning on your heel and holding out your arms as a sort of protective barrier for him to fall into, waiting patiently. But, that's when it happened really: you drifted off to your thoughts, not needing to be mentally present while catching him was automatic, but you were snapped from the wonders of what you were going to have for dinner - or if you were even going to have dinner at all. But, literally. You heard your neck crack, then a streak of warmth and pain ran down your spine as someone’s head collided with yours. You grasped MK tightly, trying to steady the both of you as a migraine slowly expanded through your skull, groaning. There was a familiar taste of blood on your lips, seeping into your mouth steadily and you reeled back one hand to prod at the cut skin. You hissed at the stinging and looked sternly at your monster friend who sheepishly smiled back. “At least try to slow down next time,” you growled, stomping in the direction of his home while he trailed behind. You hoped monsters knew of Ibuprofen.


You both took a seat on the edge of a water fountain, looking out at the plaza as you nibbled at a chocolate-chip cookie. The wind was blowing peacefully while the sun shown at just the right temperature, large oak and willow trees casting shade all around you, the transparent phantoms playfully reaching for your feet. You looked towards Muffet with a large, closed grin, cheeks puffed as you chewed down the baked good, she giggled and grasped one of your hands, holding it. It was only a few more minutes before you looked down at your hands and realized you had eaten the whole cookie, sighing in disappointment.
“It seems you're saving some for later, ahuhuhu~” Your eyebrows furrowed and you turned to gaze at your spider companion before your chin was grasped gently. It seems she was going to place a friendly kiss on your cheek, but as you shifted in your spot, cheek ended up being lips. Your eyes widened, and you struggled to pretend like you were only taken off guard when you both pulled back. “Hm,” Muffet smiled at you, “what a miraculous accident.”


With you, there were no such things as accidents. You kissed him a lot, ranging from cheeks to forehead, to nose - anywhere except the more-than-friend’s spot on his lips. Not that you weren't tempted to, you just felt like that would be considered as taking advantage of him. You honestly did not want things to turn out like that. But, I mean, sometimes hand-eye coordination can be off, and depth perception has always been a confusing concept. As you leaned down to give him a friendly goodbye peck on the nose, you found yourself lower than anticipated, and wondered as you closed your eyes why his nose felt so pliable all the sudden. Pulling away, you noticed the deep blue blush spread across his face and you narrowed your eyes, confused, but you still waved shortly to him, heading out of the library when it dawned on you.


Honestly, cooking was not your strong suit. You knew how to make the simple stuff - spaghetti, mac ‘n cheese, biscuits, store-brand brownies, cereal - that helped you live off something other than instant noodles. That, however, did not sway Papyrus’s thoughts on how you were a “culinary expert”, and after his friend Undyne dumped their cooking lessons together, he turned to you for a replacement. You figured it couldn't hurt: you were hoping one day he’d gift you with something edible and y’know… not burnt, or over-cooked, or containing random ass sprinkles. And what made it better is when he walked in your house for the very first lesson with a pink apron draped over his arm. Going along with it, you pulled your own smock, brushing the collecting dust off it before tying a knot at the small of your back. You couldn't help the laughter that rumbled in your chest when you turned around and saw “Kiss the Cool” scrawled on the skeleton’s over wear, and he watched you with a concerned expression. Your chuckles died down and you strolled over to Papyrus, pushing him down to your height before pecking his cheekbone. An orange blush grew on his skull and you snorted before heading off to a cabinet and pulling a few things out.
“OH, HUMAN,” you flinched slightly, “UNDYNE USUALLY DOES NOT REACT IN SUCH A WAY WHEN I WEAR THIS.” You set everything down on a counter, then crossed your arms and turned to him. “I DIDN'T KNOW YOUR KIND TOOK EVERYTHING SO SERIOUSLY.”
“You’d be amazed, Papy,” you giggled. “You’d be amazed…”


Stacking hotdogs on your head was not a thing you thought you’d ever find yourself doing. Yet, then again, you can't time-travel and see the future. Plus, boredom just gets the best of people, making them doing crazy stuff just for shits and giggles. And as you sat frozen like a statue on the sidewalk, Sans stood on the stand’s counter, counting aloud as he placed, one-by-one, raw food on your head. So many innuendos floated in your mind, but your lips refused to move, scared even one simple twitch would cause everything to tumble down. You weren't sure how Sans managed to reach 29, yet didn't bother to question it as you slowly began to stand. You successfully made it to your feet and moved in slow-motion to face Sans. Bad idea. The simple swivel of your heel started a wiener avalanche, and you immediately clung to the skeleton in an attempt to protect the both of you. However, you did not expect the close range, nor how embarrassing it would be to accidentally kiss someone's teeth. Once all the hotdogs stopped rolling, you pursed your lips and stepped back, surveying the few on-lookers that had stopped to watch the destruction. “So, I’m gonna guess we should stack ‘em when they’re trained.” 
You glared at him. 
“C’mon, don't act like a brat.”
“I’m going home,” you stated firmly, grabbing your bag and beginning to walk away.
“But I mustard up so many more.”


The only thing you knew about making pie was how you pinched the crust and stabbed holes in the top layer - Toriel couldn’t let you live on like that. So there you were, watching from a counter as she went through all the steps, explaining everything to you along the way. She, at some point, suggested you should take notes and at first you were, but eventually your hand began cramping and you decided you’d just try and remember everything. (If that didn't work, you’d look up everything on Google.) After she placed the pan in the oven, she strolled over to you, smiling kindly and asking if you had learned anything new. You told her you had, then noticed a bit of flour against her fur and reach out to brush it away. Once you had it all removed, she thanked you, but you weren't done. Out of some parental instinct you gained with Frisk whenever they got dirty or scratched up, you leaned down slightly and placed a simple kiss where the flour had been. You were grinning like an idiot until you noticed Toriel’s surprised expression and your own version of the emotion spread on your features. “I’m so sorry!” you stuttered out, but she began laughing, patting your knee. She’d never let you live it down.


Let's be honest, pocky is a pretty darn good snack. And knowing that when you ravaged Undyne's kitchen and found a box of some, you decided, “This is now mine and I’m going to eat it.” You were just skipping through Netflix selections, slowly nibbling on one of the sticks absentmindedly. Your mindless eating would have continued if Undyne had not entered the living room and wondered why the fuck you were trying to play the pocky game alone. The competitive side of her caused her legs to advance towards you, your eyes flickering up curiously, an innocent expression on your face. That's when she pounced, taking that last bite and placing her lips on yours. Out of pure shock, you squeaked and pulled away, breathing heavily. “Loooser,” she taunted before standing up and sauntering off. 
Swallowing down the rest of your snack, your brows furrowed as you contemplated the incident. It hit you. “Undyne, you cheated!”

Chapter Text

TW: themes of death


Stronger Than You:
201X, Dec.


You knew you had a reason. It killed you like diseases.
She watched you from the large panel, killing each and every one of her friends, all of the monsters she knew. Once their remains scattered along the floor, you would rub your hands in it and smile a sick, twisted grin. Just looking at you made her quiver in fear, and she knew she had to leave, but couldn't. She was frozen as you stood in front of the waterfall, looking straight at one of her cameras. You lifted an ashy hand and waved slowly, grin growing. "Alphys," she watched you mouth, "Alphys, I'm hunting you down. I'll make you watch them all die. I'll make you suffer." Her trembling hands reached for the phone and she dialed Asgore immediately, crying.


Mr. Know-It-All had his reign, and his fall - at least that is what his brain is telling all.
He stared up at you from his kneel, eyes wide in fear as blood poured from the wound in his torso. One hit... He was supposed to be a king, protecting his kingdom, and yet he failed them all. He let them all die, and now the flowers beneath him tinted crimson as he joined them. You watched him fade with curious eyes, gripping the knife loosely, like you didn't need it - it didn't matter. Your smile stretched when he blinked blearily, trying to stay awake. But he was so tired... no matter the searing in his chest, all he thought about was sleeping. "Asgore," your hoarse voice echoed in his ears, "what's it like to be a failure?" Failure... Yes, that's what he was. And as his knees slipped and he fell forward, he laid to rest with that title.


Sick of screaming, "Let us in!" The wires got the best of him.Well I could see it in his jaw, that all he ever wanted was a job.
Everybody was running, hiding. They all looked so panicked and others seemed stricken with grief. His ears drooped gloomily as he wheeled his cart along, watching, with downcast eyes, the citizens of Snowdin rush and stumble. Glancing back, he saw a darkened figure, standing just over the horizon, surveying everything from afar. In their hand he thought he saw a knife, and he quickly turned back around, pushing the cart just a little bit faster. He was not willing to die today - and he was lucky you could not find him, for, no matter what, you would've craved to see blood spill from his body. It was just your nature.


BP (Burgerpants):
I can hear it in your voice while you're speaking - you can't be treated.
The crazed look in your eyes as you gripped the counter mercilessly, demanding this and that, it made him uncomfortable. It was not a flicker in your irises he recognized, and it was scary to think he'd never seen it before. Your type of psycho must have been rare - the film dim and cloudy as you seemed indifferent, controlled. But you paid him with a grumble, and he gave you what you wanted in return. If he didn't have the fear that his boss would come roaming back and find him trembling in a corner, he would've done just that. You both remained silent for a minute, staring at each other. He swore, a flash of something else came upon your features. Something less insane, more normal. But it was gone as quick as it came.


All that he invested in, goes straight to hell.
They stared down at you, kneeling and obedient, wondering why you would so easily give up your soul for someone like them. Of course, you both had been practically attached at the hip while on the surface, but the sacrifices you made for them... were they really worth that much to you? Your chest heaved, panting as you dug your hands in the ash and blood tainted flowers, running your fingers along the petals gently as you tried to cleanse them of the remains your sins had caused. The corpse of one you rested briefly on, prodding as if to make sure it was actually dead, and a tear slipped down on your face when it did nothing in response. After all that time, you still had emotions? They chuckled softly. You were an interesting creature. And now they had to kill you.


We talked about making it. I'm sorry that you never made it.
"What's this feeling?" It was the first time in so long that he had experienced any sort of emotion, and it was so sad that it had to be fear. "Why am I shaking?" You needed him out of your way, you knew he just wanted to be along for the ride, the end. But you didn't need him, you needed your friend. He was not your friend. Throughout it all, he was a mere accomplice, struggling to get on your good side. Still, you appreciated the help. And as he screamed at you to back up, your grip on the knife tightened, then loosened. You wanted him out of your way, and you always got what you wanted. He started crying and you let him delve into the ground. You would take care of him later.


He told me I should take it in, listen to every word he's speaking.
You watched them fall - the last one. Walking out the shadows, you looked down the hole, yet saw nothing but darkness. "Hey!" you called. Your voice echoed around the dirt walls. "Don't screw up!" They were probably unconscious and would never hear what you had said. And a few weeks later, when you suddenly found yourself watching them trip on a vine, tumbling into the abyss again, you knew they hadn't. So you just sat there, peering into the endless black, waiting. You were tired of trying and having to try again. So you waited, motionless, for them to take away your memory. For them to wipe the story and begin a new one. You waited.


And I just started seeing the light at the beginning of the tunnel, but he tells me that I'm dreaming.
What a pitiful creature you were, running only on false hope and perpetual anger. You were so young, too, it's probably why it had been so easy to point fingers. And now, you just killed everything you could, making sure they knew of the hurricane of emotions you held within you until the very moment you ended them. He watched you when he could, mustering the energy to let the dimensions tear him apart as he spectated little bits and pieces of your murderous adventure. But he found himself explicitly stricken with his own anger as he watched you stand before his two sons, failing at showing any emotion as you offed the first, then remained determined to end the second. He was helpless, his edges searing, but the only thing he felt was emptiness. There was something hollow, resonating inside of him, as you held that knife. And when the second began bleeding, sweating, panting, asking for his brother... Gaster had to leave. He could no longer watch.


The wires getting older, I can hear the way they're creaking as they're holding him.
He wiped an already clean glass, not daring to look up at the empty bar before him. He was never much for conversation, but that didn't mean he enjoyed loneliness. He heard the crunching of snow outside, the faint sound of a child talking, and then all was silent. He knew you were at his doorstep, surveying the place. You might have even been trying to peek into the windows to see if there was anyone else to... He shook his head, flames growing wilder as he set the glass down with a hollow clinking sound. He stared at it for a few moments, then left through the fire escape. The door shut behind him just as he heard bells jingling.


Tells me to be raw, admits to every little flaw that never let him sit upon the top.
He knew what he had to do. He had to stop you. So many had failed before him, but that did not mean he was going to give up and watch the rest fall down. You both stared at each other, and he told you about his true form, what he was capable of. You seemed emotionless, foot tapping impatiently as you waited for the end of his speech. His voice faltered as you twirled a knife around your fingers, smiling, one eyebrow raising as you took note of his hesitance. No. He had to be strong. He was made to rid of people like you. But when the lights dulled and you surveyed his new body with a bored look on your face, his hope withered. This was his demise. You stuck the knife in his chest cavity, blade piercing metal before you stepped back and watched his wires crackle. "Bye bye," you giggled before he exploded.


MK (Monster Kid):
If he said, "Help me kill the president." I'd say he needs his medicine.
"You're in my way." It was funny, watching him try to puff out his chest and flare his teeth. Your grin widened. He was so weak, so small, in his eyes all you saw was free EXP, more chances to gain LV. In your hand, the handle of the knife began burning, itching to swing. But you waited to see how long he could keep up his act. Yet, he lasted much longer than you expected, and eventually you became bored. You took your chance, sure you were landing multiple hits until your sight cleared and you instead saw you had hit a different target. You took pride in the fear etched on both their faces, laughing. Ah, sweet vengeance.


I just pray the wires aren't coming.
It was considered almost impossible for humans to be unafraid of spiders. No matter how small they were, fright rose in the majority of people's chest, withering their confidence as they cowered from something they could easily kill. You were not of that majority. And standing before Muffet, you knew she would be no problem. She would never be able to lay a hand on you - you were invincible compared to her. So you let her drown your soul in purple, and then you cut her down from her web and stuck the knife in her chest. What a sad sight to see her precious spiders lay a flower in her ashes... but you felt nothing, and kicked them all away, crushing the petals beneath your heel. What disgusting creatures.


When he talks, I hear his ghosts - every word they say to me.
He knew he couldn't go home anymore after you attempted to harm him and his distant, angry cousin left only a trail of gray footprints from the garbage dump - his cousin couldn't have made footprints, is the point. Mettaton's house was still silent and he stared at it a while, sad. He knew what his cousin would do, with being corporeal and all, and really wished he could step in and stop it all from happening. But he was a nobody, a minor character. He was worthless and he realized that, so he disappeared, floating back to the ruins to lay near Toriel's ashes. He felt so alone.


Won't tell me to stop, thinks I should be a little cautious.
"ARE YOU OFFERING A HUG OF ACCEPTANCE?" You felt your heart wretch, your feet dragging in the snow. This was the first time you had felt so unwilling to kill, but you kept your dominant stance. You wanted to scream at him to leave, to just run as far away as possible. You wished you could tell him you were the real monster, but found your mouth dry and your throat tight. You blinked and his skull was beneath your foot, the unmistakable sound of bone cracking echoed and danced with the snowflakes. "I STILL BELIEVE IN YOU!" You shifted your weight and he turned to ash against the sole of your shoe. Looking toward the river through the trees, a single tear slipped. But you wiped it away and felt nothing again.


You knew the game and played it. It kills to know that you have been defeated.
LOVE, itself, is an acronym. And you had so, so much of it. You barely touched the people you needed gone and they dissipated beneath your fingertips. And yet, you knew he was different. You could feel it as he spoke to you, words not reaching your ears as other voices echoed in your head. Your feet felt glued to the ground, but you found the strength to shuffle forward. He kept that smirk, but something in his sockets changed. The creases beneath them deepened, like he was tired, or upset. You knew he didn't want to do this. But he did anyway. You kept coming back each time he threw you down and your soul shattered. Even if he could've taken it to Asgore... there was just no one left to help escape. They were all dead because of you. And when you finally caught him off guard, blood miraculously seeping through a tear in his shirt, you let him think upon that. "Why'd you do it, Sans?" you hissed. "Why'd you wait this long?" He had no answer and stumbled away from you, calling for his brother before he turned to ash as you looked away.


I hear the wires pulling as your breathing.
The shock etched in her features branded itself into your memory - it was surely an expression you would never forget. "You - you really hate me that much?" You could have told her it wasn't like that, but that would mean you were lying. She was blocking the way to your free will to murder everything that had taken away your best friend. What a shame she had just been another accomplice in their murder, she had seemed so sweet. She began laughing, and you watched her, blankly. Her body fell to ash and her soul shuddered in front of you. You dropped your knife and reached out to grab it, curious, but cracks ran down the middle and it broke before you could. You looked down at the grey substance, trying to retrace your thoughts. You decided it was time to move on.


Straight to hell. . .
The true heroine? Hah. She melted at your feet, grinning in delight, believing her friends would be able to stop you from destroying the world. She still had hope, even as she died, you admired her for that. But, what she failed to realize, is that against you, everyone was powerless. They were weak and they were useless. They could hit you, but they could do no harm. That was just how it worked. But you remained quiet as she became only a puddle on the ground. After you were sure she was dead, you glanced to the side and winked at a hidden camera, then jumped into the liquid remains. It splashed against your shoes and you smiled like a maniac.

Chapter Text

TW: Suicide, and themes of death


But That's Not Strong Enough:
201X, Dec.
* alternate timeline.


I've seen you cry, but I've never seen you shout.
There was a sting in her heart as she watched you fall to your knees, clutching at the hole in your chest one of Undyne's spears had caused. You breathed heavily, your artic blue soul darkening to a navy while cracks began running down the middle. You suddenly began sobbing, palms leaving your wound to pound against the bridge in a sort of tantrum. "I'm sorry!" she thought she saw you say through her screen. Your eyes flickered over to her camera and your lower lip trembled, brows furrowing. You stared for a few moments, tears streaking your face until your soul shattered and you fell limp.


But so what if I drank too much? This ain't love, it's just a firefight.
"We could talk over a cup of tea..." You stared up at him, liquid crystals building in the corners of your eyes.
"You're the one that Flowey talked about, right?" your voice sounded so innocent, so soft. He was expecting something that seemed much more... evil. "You're the one that told him it was going to be alright..?" He surveyed you carefully, defense dropping as you practically withered before him. No matter the flower's words on how destructive and murderous you were, all he saw was a lost child. The tears set free and you sniffled. "Can you tell me it will be alright, too?" You wiped your nose with your sleeve. "... Before you kill me?" He was shocked, but sighed. His heavy footsteps pounded nearer to you, then, he stretched one hand out and petted your hair. You weeped under his touch, knife dropping into the flowers as you hugged yourself.
"You know how it goes..." And with that, he took a few steps back, pulled out his trident, and half-heartedly flung it at you. It disappeared once making contact, your 1 HP dissipating as you smiled grimly through the tears. You sat down in flowers, running your fingers along them before you lied down and never got back up.


And even if it's not enough, I'll say it once, I swear I never lied.
You lied in the bed of flowers where it all had begun, deciding you would drag yourself back to the ruins after you slowly began bleeding out due to your fight with Sans. You had won the battle, but he won the war. And so, that was enough to realize you would never make it; you were never meant for this path. You stared up into the dim light of day, satisfied but filled with regret. You were close to the brink of death now, and you felt a presence beside you. You turned your head slightly and saw a monster child.
"I'm Asriel," he whispered, looking up the hole, too.
You nodded as best as you could. "I know." You huffed, oxygen becoming harder to intake. "I'm (Y/N)."
"I know." There was a pause. "You killed my mom."
"Yeah," you admitted.
"And now you're dying."
You tried to laugh but only spit up blood. "Karma..."
"I can heal you," he mentioned causally.
"I want to die," you responded.
"Okay." And you both lied there as you closed your eyes and your muscles relaxed.


Bleu (Nice Cream Guy):
When I should have said nothing at all.
Your blood spilled in the snow, almost contrasting beautifully as you crawled your way to his cart. He stared, horrified, at you, ears perked up in alarm. You panted, grasping the sides of the metal box and heaving yourself to a stand, rocking drunkenly for a moment. Then, you looked at him, frowning. "Can you tell me -" you hunched over and abruptly threw up, yet all that came out was a yellow-ish liquid and blood. Your breathing increased after the session, it almost seemed as if you were hyperventilating. He would have comforted you if he hadn't known how much you had hurt others. "- tell me..." You wiped your mouth on your sleeve. "- something... huff... nice..." His eyes widened a bit, and he almost cowered in shyness; something about you made it impossible to speak. You smiled at his hesitance. "It's okay -" Your eyelids grew heavy, so you looked at the ground. "I get it... huff... I'm a big... huff... scary..." Your lips trembled and a single tear curved your cheek. "... Monster." You crumpled into the snow, and did not move afterwards.


BP (Burgerpants):
Sight blurred, I'm walkin' dazed. I'm fuckin' faded.
"How can I help you, little w-" His usual greeting was cut off when you tripped and fell onto the tiled floor, a crimson pool steadily slipping out from under you. You groaned in defiance, struggling to get up, but found yourself too weak. You drew in a sharp intake of breath, and rolled over onto your back, looking up at his face that peered around the edge of the counter. "Sing to me," you demanded suddenly, gripping your stained shirt.
"Wh-what?" His brows furrowed, lips pursing.
"Please," you begged, hands unclenching and smacking against the polished floor, becoming wet in your own blood. He hesitantly, softly began singing a song he had heard a customer muttering to themselves one time, and tears began slipping down the sides of your face. Your eyes rolled back into your head and your mouth fell open as if you were going to say something else. But you didn't.


* what?
* there's nothing left for you here.
* were you really expecting a happy ending for them?
* no such thing exists.
* not anymore.
* not after what you did.
* are you sorry now?


Like a hurricane, these shots don't ricochet.
You called out for help. But nobody came. You were alone, lying in the patch of grass as your blood soaked with the soil. You cried out for help. But nobody came. You began weeping, dirt-covered hands covering your face in a futile attempt to shield yourself from the pain. Your heels dug into the earth, pushing downward until they kicked themselves back up. The little white pellets had embedded themselves in your chest and they would not come back out. Vines sprouting from the ground kept your torso trapped, and would not release you no matter how hard you struggled. The pain began spreading like venom in your veins and you screamed in agony, hands leaving your face to clutch the strands of grass. You ripped them up mercilessly before your nails filled up with dirt and began chipping, bleeding. You screeched for help. But nobody came.


This is the last time, you'll ever bring me down.
"Hey, kid." They swiveled around upon hearing your voice, and you stepped out of the darkness. "I know what you're doing. I know what you're thinking." You inched nearer to them, fists clenching. "I thought the same thing too, when it was my time." Your reflexes were like a cat and you rolled your fingers into the collar of their sweater, pulling them up to your height. "But don't," you growled. "Don't hurt them anymore." You took a few steps forward and they struggled in your grasp. "This is the last reset." You released them over the abyss, and they fell like a rock, right into the darkness.


You were never even really here.
How you hadn't seen the door before was beyond you, and with your last spark of childish curiosity, you entered it, clutching the tear in your stomach. Your exhaustion lacked any surprise as you saw a disfigured phantom in the middle of the small room you had entered, seemingly melting against the floor, eyes closed. You decided they'd be good company and stumbled towards them, reaching a hand out to grasp the fabric of their coat, but fell to the ground before them. Your head cracked against the hard floor and you sighed briefly. He opened his eyes in shock, looking down at your fresh corpse, your soul floating solemnly above it. He caressed the heart with one finger before it shattered.


I am drowning in liquor, and apathy will be the death of me.
"Do you... have... a glass... of water?" Your arms landed heavily on the bar, feet barely managing to stay on the ground as you pulled yourself onto a stool. He looked up and shook his head of flames, rubbing a rag against the glass in his hand. You huffed, resting your head against the wooden countertop, eyelids drooping.
"..." He watched you. "..." He knew you were dying. "... You're going to stain the floor." You sat up slightly, snatching the glass from his hands and angrily smashing it against the wooden boards.
"Tell them you dropped a bottle of ketchup." If he could, he would have grimaced. He knew what game you were playing, and you were playing it well. Sighing again, you relaxed, hiding your head in your arms. A minute later, your shoulders ceased rising.


And still, we are spinning - just liars and cheaters.
Everything cleared and he looked down at you, surprised to see you sitting. Your head hung low, legs crossed as you hugged yourself. Your knife had been tossed across the floor, now at his feet, glimmering.
"I just -" You sobbed, interrupting yourself. "I just wanted to see them again. I just wanted to hurt the ones who had hurt them." You began rocking side-to-side, shuddering occasionally. "But I can't keep hurting everyone. I don't like hurting - ..." You looked at him with clear, pleading eyes. Splotches of blood marked your face and your clothing was coated in grey, revealing who you had been but not who you were. He understood the pain you felt, and how it could drive someone to the brink of insanity, so he lifted one arm, pointing the barrel at your head. "Thank you," you whispered, smiling. And then he fired.


MK (Monster Kid):
And I'd be lyin' if I told you I'm fine - but I lie.
"Yo... that's not true, right?" You stared at him blankly, a wave of relaxation flooding over you. You suddenly became aware of the consequences of all your actions, but so slowly and steadily, it didn't urge you to a weeping session. So, you stood there, looking down at him, breathing evenly. You saw a glint of armor appear in the dim light of the gemstones on the wall, and raised an empty hand, signalling for them to stop. They did, standing partially in the darkness. "I'm sorry," you told them. Then, you stepped off the bridge and fell into the darkness.


I'm sinking down into my thoughts - oh my god.
She found it odd that you didn't struggle in her webs, and even odder that you were already wounded. So odd, in fact, that she didn't fight you. Instead, she climbed down from her web and sat beside you, helping you into a comfortable, lying position. You thanked her quietly, and apologized for hurting everyone. She hushed you and began building webs around your body, creating a makeshift cocoon for you. You watched her intently, still and quiet. Once the process was completed, she pet your hair until you closed your eyes and stopped breathing.


You know I'm drowning. And I keep goin' down, but I'll swear that I'm not.
He knew he couldn't go home anymore, but seeing you in the small pond outside his house was not something he expected. You waded underwater peacefully, knife resting on the bottom floor, reflecting the gentle swishes of blue light that complimented the soul that hung outside of your chest. That was when he realized, you were not alive, and floated closer to see your soft strands of hair waving around your face, your eyes closed and lips parted, tinted purple. He watched your soul shatter, and then his tears mixed with the water.


Yeah, these thoughts I would never speak out loud.
He held out his arms for you, and you smiled shyly, your fingers flexing around the handle of your knife. He was the slightest bit intimidated by that motion and his smile faltered, but he kept the welcoming sign of an embrace. Your eyes closed and you breathed in deeply, both your hands wrapping around your weapon, shifting it so it pointed towards your body. And then, you lifted both your arms to be level with your chest as he gasped, rushing towards you. But he reached you a moment too late, the knife already plunged deep into your breast when he caught you. His kneecaps dug into the snow as he hugged your body close to him, your blood staining his costume. "HUMAN!" he cried, shaking you slightly. "HUMAN, THIS IS NO TIME FOR A NAP!" You refused to respond and the pieces of your soul sunk into the white powder around him.


It's friendly fire and sunlight; the aftermath of one too many words I said.
You reached for him, accepting his mercy as you stumbled nearer, your own arms open and your knife abandoned on the golden tiles. The same look came upon his face - an expression of regret and hesitance. You didn't understand it until you felt something slam into your back, piercing your torso. It sent you flying forward, and you landed in his arms, brief gasps sounding from your mouth as you tried to breathe. "You're okay now, kiddo," he muttered to you as you hung heavily in his embrace. Your head slumped against his shoulder before you became dead weight.


Right back where we started, but it don't get easier.
Her hands instantly went to her mouth as you fell to your knees, bleeding and scalded. Your soul floated before you, darkening as she rushed towards you, gathering your body in her arms as she began crying. She heard you fighting for breath and life as she held you, apologizing endlessly, saying she didn't mean it - that she never meant to hurt you.
You clung to her dress, crying, too, thanking her. She didn't understand, and never would as your soul broke against her.


This is the last time. . .
You stepped out from the tall grass and she immediately caught sight of you, jumping off the slope and landing a few yards away. She pointed her spear at you, and you immediately dropped your weapon, kicking it to her. Underneath the helmet, her eyebrow quirked as you expanded your arms. "I'm ready," you told her, closing your eyes. "I didn't mean it - to kill him, I mean." Her muscles tensed. "I didn't want to. I don't remember doing any of it until - until he was..." You took in a shaky breath. "It all happened so quickly... Can't you do the same for me?" She decided that was enough conversation and threw the spear straight for your soul. It shattered upon impact.

Chapter Text

They Comfort You:


She opened the door, rubbing one of her eyes groggily. Although, she instantly woke up when you gripped her floral-printed nightgown and pulled her towards you, your arms locking tightly behind her neck. You began sobbing into her shoulder, and a sudden wave of emotions rolled within her as she returned the embrace. “I-I’m so sorry!” you cried desperately against the fabric of her nightwear. “I didn't mean it! I didn't mean any of it!” One of her hands left your back and flipped on the light beside the doorframe before she carefully lead you inside. You pulled away from her, trying to wipe away your tears while she shut the front door, then took your hand. She guided you to her living room and you both sat down on the loveseat, a fuzzy blanket draped over your legs. She let you lie your head in her lap and she braided a portion of your hair as you cried.
“What happened?” she asked softly when you quieted.
“I did horrible things, Alphy. Such horrible things…” Tears gathered in your eyes again and she smiled wearily, trying to comfort you. “I hurt you. How could I ever hurt you?” Your tone was becoming hysteric again and she hushed you, trailing her fingers from the bridge of your nose to the start of your hairline, repeating the process multiple times before you were left feeling numb, the wet paths drying and your lids crusting. She flipped on the TV and played your favorite comedy, continuing her braiding and caresses until you fell asleep.


You harshly knocked on the large door before falling to your knees and covering your face in your hands, weeping loudly. The entrance opened not a second later and heavy footfalls neared you before you were swooped up in a pair of large arms. You gripped his shirt like your life depended on it, and soaked the fabric with your tears. He pet your hair gently and began humming a tune that felt oddly familiar, lulling you to relaxation as you rested your head against his wide chest. He moved one hand under your knees and lifted you up before carrying you inside his home, closing the door with his foot, then heading for the kitchen. He pulled out a chair for you, retreated to the living room, and came back with a blanket, wrapping it around your shoulders. Even with the warmth, you were shivering as he placed a kettle on the stove. While he waited, he returned to you, kneeling to your height. You rested your head against his shoulder, whimpering. “I’m sorry,” you breathed. “You're not a failure. I'm sorry.” It seemed you were saying it more for yourself than him, but he kept you close until the steam whistled.


You climbed that hill faster than you ever remembered being capable of, stumbling a bit along the way, but reaching his sleeping form nonetheless. He instantly woke up when you fell beside him and something glinted in his eyes before he wrapped you in an embrace, trying to keep you warm in the chill of night. You sobbed against his sweater, apologizing for killing everyone he had known while begging for forgiveness. He told you that the past was the past, that everyone made mistakes, and you were different now. When your tears ceased their cascading, you nuzzled against him and sighed. “What have I done?” you muttered against him.
“What every single human has,” he told you.


Bleu (Nice Cream Guy):
He had stayed the night once you gave him a long rant about how a storage unit was not a home, and you would not allow him to sleep there. Now, you were glad he had listened to you as you shook him awake with tears in your eyes. He mumbled something inaudible before his eyes fluttered open and he glanced at you. Upon seeing the upset expression, he sat up quickly, ears straight. 
“What's wrong? Are you feeling alright?” Those were questions you felt had obvious answers and you sat heavily down beside him. He wrapped an arm around your back, rubbing one shoulder.
“I had a nightmare,” you said quietly and he nodded in understanding. “It felt so real,” you added in a whisper.
“Some of them do,” he assured you. “But it's all just a part of your imagination. It never happened.”
You leaned your head on his shoulder, unconvinced. “Are you sure?”
“Of course.”


BP (Burgerpants):
He always worked late, and for that you were thankful. Pounding on the back door, it swung open and revealed a weary Burgerpants who seemingly sprung back to life upon seeing you red-faced and teary-eyed. He gripped your shoulders as his face went angry. “Who hurt you?” he grumbled, surveying you for any marks.
“No one,” you whined, pushing his arms off of you. “Or I mean… I did. I-I... “
“What do you mean ‘you did’?” His eyebrows furrowed before he grasped your arms, gaze feathering over your wrists before he released you again.
You rubbed one of your shoulders. “I had a bad dream.” Your eyes narrowed as you pushed back tears. “I murdered… a lot of people in it.”
He huffed. “I have those on a daily basis, but usually I’m happy about it.” You glared at him and he seemingly shrunk. You turned your gaze to the ground before sighing, slouching a bit.
“Please hold me,” you whispered. And so he did.


“You monster!” you cried, your fists pounding on their chest as they struggled to restrain you.
“(Y-Y/N)! Stop!” Tears streaked your face as your hits progressively got weaker. Chara was able to grip your wrists and hold you in place while you panted, staring at the ground. 
You felt so conflicted, stuck between anger and guilt. “I loved you,” you whispered. “And you used that against me.”
“I was trying to find a better place for us,” they explained quietly.
“You tried to kill him…” You sniffled. “You made me kill them all…”
“No, (Y/N).” They shook your arms harshly to get your attention. “You did it. All by yourself. You were angry, remember?”
You surveyed them with wet eyes, a scowl etched permanently on your features. You ripped your hands from their grip then dived in for a hug. They returned it, hesitantly. “Why did you have to make me love you?” you mumbled.
“Because you were the only one I cared about.”


You sat up, bed sheets wrinkling as you threw them off you in an attempt to rid of the cold sweat you woke up in. Glancing at your nightstand, you sighed when seeing Flowey still there, resting. You leaned over and flicked on the lamp, then grabbed his pot and pulled it towards you, wedging it between your legs and your chest. 
He woke up grumpily at the sudden movement. “What? Sending me back - …” His voice trailed when he noticed you were shivering, droplets of water curving down your face. His browline furrowed, unsure of what to do, then gasped when you rested your forehead against the top of his pistil. You breathed shakily, fingers tapping a certain rhythm along his pot, and that's when he knew. “You finally remembered, huh?”
“How could I have..?” You couldn't finished the thought, watching your tears roll down his petals, his own face sad while gazing up at your own. You ghosted your lips along what you supposed could be his forehead, then leaned back against your headboard and closed your eyes.
“It's all over now,” he muttered to you as you drifted back to sleep.


There were bags underneath your eyes, your lips pulled into a frown as your hands lacked any steaming cup. Your fingers trailed patterns on the metal table, and you didn't dare to look up when Frisk sat down beside you. They reached for one of your hands and you gave them it, a single tear slipping from one of your eyes. You quickly wiped it away with your sleeve, but they noticed. You tried to laugh it off, but the chuckle sounded forced and weak. “It wasn't the last reset, was it?” you inquired quietly.
They shook their head, twirling a ring around your finger.
“Why didn't you… Why did you keep resetting?”
Their movements stopped, and they looked at you, silent. Then their lips parted and you heard the words that connected all the dots. “I was never… the one in control.”
You nodded slowly before leaning your head against theirs, sighing as their fingers resumed dancing along your skin.


You woke up to find him sitting at the edge of your bed, twiddling his thumbs. The sheets rolled into your lap as you sat up, hugging your knees. He hesitantly turned to you, white pupils glowing lazily in the dark. He smiled wearily. “I can see your dreams,” he said. “I can hear each and every one of your thoughts. I know what you're feeling at all hours of the day.” A breathy laugh escaped him, and he patted your foot beneath the covers. “I understand why you feel as such, now.”
You opened your mouth to say something, but he interrupted you.
“You want me to console you.”
You nodded, then shuffled up against him, resting your head against his hard shoulder. You didn't mind. “I’m sorry,” you whispered into the dark.
“Oh, I know.”


You curled up against his apartment door, not knowing what time it was, but hoping he would show up soon. He did, and confusion caused him to crouch down beside your shivering form, head tilting slightly to the side. You refused to say anything, so he picked you up by your back and knees, unlocked the door, then lead you into his complex. He settled you down on a chair before locking the front entrance. Once done, he threw the keys somewhere and returned to you, kneeling in front of your seat as he crossed his arms atop your knees. His glasses had started slipping and you pushed them back up with one finger, smiling grimly. He took your hand in one of his, then pressed it against his cheek. You found it felt simply warm and rather solid for being just flames, and knew he was trying to warm you. You thanked him in a hushed tone, and he nodded in reply.


You found yourself suddenly awakened by your shoulders being rubbed, metal meeting metal as someone sat down beside you. “Darling, your drink is cold. How long have you been here?”
You shrugged, not wanting to sit up. You heard a robotic sigh and wondered how he could do that. Your chair screeched against the tiled floor as he pulled it nearer to his own, then both his arms wrapped around your waist and he pulled you into his chest. You curled up against him and one of his hands travelled up to run his fingers through your hair, making you sigh.
“Would you like to talk about it?”
“Not right now.” And he accepted that answer, continuing to hold you close and sing a song beneath his breath. You were thankful for that.


MK (Monster Kid):
It wasn't unusual for you to randomly show up at his house, upset and seeking a safety blanket, but the fact that it was so late at night was not part of the routine. He invited you inside as you dried your tears on your coat sleeve and settled into the couch. It was the first time you had actually been inside his house, but you weren't particularly enthused by that.
“Do you remember?” you whispered when he hopped up onto the cushion beside you.
“Remember what?”
“What I did to you..?” You trembled for a moment, then gazed at him in the dark. “I tried to hurt you… I-I killed so many innocent people.”
His face contorted in confusion, and he struggled to find the right words to say. You were just grateful that he was trying, so you smiled at him and wrapped an arm around his back, pulling him in for a side-hug.
“Bad dream,” you reassured him, and he relaxed. But you knew it stretched farther than your imagination.


You told her you wanted to skip the café and she obliged quietly, although questions swam around her head. When you both sat down for a break, all those inquiries were silenced. “I had a dream where…” You took in a deep breath. “Where I hurt a lot of people - I hurt you.” Your eyes examined the ground and she took in one of your hands, rubbing her thumb along your knuckles. “But it was one of those things… Y’know, where you wake up and you're not sure if you’re ‘them’, or you're ‘you’.” You seemed deeply troubled by whatever you had seen, she noted. “Does that make sense?”
She nodded silently, and you both surveyed the scenery in silence. You wondered how she could ever forgive you, then convinced yourself it was just a nightmare. Just a bad dream…


Napstablook / Napstabot:
“H-Hey, (Y/N)?” You stared at the floor, anxiety twisting your gut as your head felt light. You were starting to feel a sweat come on. “Are you alright?”
Your gaze flickered over to him, managing a small smile. “Just thinking.” Your neck grew warm, the back of your throat tight. Did you have low blood sugar? You couldn't remember the last time you ate.
“Do you want to listen to something?”
“Sure,” tears pricked your eyes as you remembered what you had done to him, “Why don't you pick something this time?” When he started playing something, you leaned against his shoulder, hearing the familiar beats of the first song you had made together. Your sigh of content blew a bit of his hair, and he grabbed one of your hands, squeezing it. “Thanks,” you whispered through the headphones.


“HUMAN, YOU ARE BEING MORE QUIET THAN USUAL.” He always seemed to like stating the obvious - or simply what was running through his head. You couldn't seem to smile at it today. “HOW CAN I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, HELP YOU BACK INTO YOUR USUAL MOOD?” 
“Can we just…” You watched the grass sway softly, and heard birds chirping in the distance. It made you sick to your stomach. “Why did you want to become a member of the Royal Guard?”
If his eyes existed, they would have lit up like fireworks on Independence Day. You wanted to hear more about him? And hearing about him would cheer you up? You sure were an odd human, but he liked you. And he continued his long rant of stories that were completely irrelevant to the topic while you pretended to listen. You appreciated the way his booming voice blocked out the sounds of nature.


“Do you ever wonder how some people are super forgiving?” Your voice broke through his dozing, and he was almost shocked to see you sitting on the stand, your back to him. “Like, one time in kindergarten I punched a boy in the face, and the next day he flirted with me.” Your shoulders slumped, and you grasped your arms tightly, nails digging into skin as your knuckles turned white. “Maybe that's just the convenience of being a kid, but…”
He climbed up onto the flimsy counter next to you, watching cars pass by. “You remember,” he mentioned casually.
“I destroyed you,” you reflected, regret bedded deeply in your tone. “I took away everything you loved.”
“Yeah.” He felt something rising in his ribcage, but stuffed it down. “You did.”
“You just kept fighting… I admire you for that.” Your eyes narrowed, and you huffed. “I’m sorry.”
“I am too.” That's when you realized, he was too lazy to hold grudges.


You pounded on the door, shivering in the cold as you desperately begged for someone to answer and let you in. The door swung open a minute later, and you fell into the arms of what had grown to become your favorite person.
“(Y/N),” she cooed, “what ever is the matter?”
You shook your head, burying your nose deep into her shoulder, gripping the fabric of her clothing with the utmost of importance. Her large hands rubbed your back soothingly, and she whispered encouraging things to you as the embrace went on far longer to be considered platonic. But you needed to know that she was alive, that your heart was still beating and she could continue to make it race. You felt like the luckiest being on Earth to know the answer to all of those was a “yes”.


“Hey, Undyne,” it was the first time ever you had interrupted one of her animes, “have you ever been defeated? Like, in a fight?”
She paused the show and turned to you, surveying your face carefully. “Yeah, once,” she grunted.
“By who?”
“Frisk. The punk just kept running away.”
You smiled slightly, and nodded. Something in your eyes made you feel distant.
“Why?” she questioned. You shrugged in response, settling back down against her. She let it be, resuming the TV, then wrapping one arm around your shoulder. One of her fingers traced circles against the blade, sending shivers down your spine. She always knew how to reassure you.

Chapter Text

Letter to the Lost:
(They Realize They're In Love With You)


I liked the way they wrapped their arms around my upper back and slightly arched their neck so they could rest the side of their head against mine.
Then, the transfer of heat that made me cold when we seperated, like I was sitting by a campfire and it suddenly went out, leaving nothing but dull red coals.
But sometimes, I wonder how.. how they saw those hugs.
Did they like the hug- even love it?
Or did they dread the moment I ever asked for one?
Were they alright with me turning my head away because I couldn't rest it upon their shoulder, for their height was too tall for the capability?
Were they fine when sometimes my arms locked around the back of their neck tightly, causing them to have to lean down and faintly meet my neck?
I can never be too sure, and yet I think they know when I needed comfort.
Because instead, when they hesitantly pulled away to see my reaction, I kept holding on, and they would meet the hug again, ask me what was wrong.
If then I avoided eye contact, they'd lead me somewhere to sit where usually I would start crying everything out and go back to them, digging my head into their chest.
And I would most likely stop my tears quickly, or shall I say they would.
I don't what it was, but something about them holding me, made me feel that there was nothing wrong in the world anymore.
It made me feel... like I was never a mistake.
I never felt lost or confused.
Never frustrated and aggravated.
Even the normal hugs, it made me forget everything.
I'd just live in their arms while the time ticked by.
This is why it’s hard to write this...
Because I forgot to observe how they wrapped their arms around me at times.
I forgot I had things to do, places to see.
Isn’t it funny, just how exactly that works?


You only hear the musical tone.
From the gardens, all alone.
Can you really fall for someone who almost doesn't exist?
Can you really imagine those unreal moments where you two kissed?
You only hear the captivating words.
From listening to the stories of sorrow and hurt.
Can you really fall asleep while they tell?
Can you really ever know if they're doing well?
You only read many lies the tears have come to accept.
Luckily, for you, since almost no one knows, you don't have to feel in debt.
Can you really make a wish to see their face?
Can you really wait that long, just staring out into space?
Human, with a voice of velvet.
Whom nobody shall know.
Ah, such a tone, sounding so delicate.
Give them a mask and tell them to start an a nation.
Surely, they'll take up the meaning of being called Patience.


And I couldn't resist myself.
Thinking it would rid me all the wealth.
Maybe I did pull them to bay.
But they kept welcoming the day.
And they said, "Hey, boy with an empty chest.
Why don't I take you home, so sadness we can lest."
And I said, "Hey, human with a heart of gold.
I'm not the boy you seek; I'm so very cold."
And I couldn't stop myself.
Thinking I could get by with secret stealth.
Maybe I did hurt some breakable things.
But they only wanted me to feel as the kings.
And they said, "Hey, boy with no heart.
Why do you sit alone; cry in the dark?"
And I said, "Hey, human with a hundred of friends.
It's because you’ve got me falling over and over again."
And I couldn't save myself.
Thinking I could pass the days with perfect health.
Maybe I did count the reasons I wrote on my list.
But I can't tell them which ones deserve to exist.
And they said, "Hey, boy with many scars.
Let's get carried away and crash a car."
And I said, "Hey, human with a scrambled future.
I've got these wounds, I don't need more to suture."
But I couldn't hide myself.


Bleu (Nice Cream Guy):
Solace in reservation.
Excuse me while I close the call.
I need to really think about this all.
I never realize how loud I talk.
Yelling out words,
Like washing out chalk.
Such a wrong time, my love.
My darling.
My sweetheart.
All these puppy names,
Heading for the trash.
Never thought I'd act so rash.
I joke to hear them laugh.
The way they express themselves is overrated.
But I can't stop myself.
So exaggerated.
I think before I speak.
Adjust before flash.
God, I need to be perfect,
To be enough for the bash.
The sentences I wish to finish are far below appropriate.
So, what can I do..
When no words are left when due?
This pain inside.
The hole is growing wide.
How much longer until I fall?
How much longer until the last call?
One day, I know, they'll leave without permission.
And that could cause so much attrition.
Why don't they see..?
Every part of them is breaking me.


BP (Burgerpants):
I can see it,
The unexplainable desperation.
I can hear it,
The excruciating sadness.
I can feel it,
The cold tremble.
I can smell it,
The different perfume.
I can taste it,
The absent cherry flavor.
They've just been begging for my attention.
But, me, with all these new feelings..?
How I am supposed to cope?
I sit in a box,
Put a bag over my head.
Do whatever I can to hide the wrench in my chest,
The tears on my cheeks.
Why can't they just see?
And if by some miraculous accident,
I just become so adamant,
That they must let me stay..
They'll always wake up with same, single wave.
They aren't oblivious to smiles I send,
The words I somehow manage to bend.
How I wish they were an idiot,
So I wouldn't think they’re brilliant.
What can I do,
If I simply can't convince on cue?
These concerns will do me no good.
It would be so much better if they just understood.


Told myself to forget.
It was never really worth it.
Didn't exactly cry at first.
The words didn't seem to hurt.
But, with the power of pity,
Guilt began to fill my gut.
I'm not about to apologize,
For being wrongly accused.
But, I miss the days,
When none of us were bruised.
I remember everyday, we promised to talk.
And now there's a certain distance between,
That's no longer small like a rock.
A boulder, as such,
Could surely cause some problems;
More than just a smutch.
They've found other people,
I clearly understand.
But, they see my will,
To a greater extent than my fear.
Sometimes I wonder if we communicate through a grille,
Around the past year.
Oh, love.
I do apologize,
For taking their time,
And making it mine.
Because people always seem to change,
And I've turned into a case of mange.
All the memories have faded,
Their love has been raided,
My heart can not be aided.
Go on without me,


I hate them. Honestly, unconditionally. For being so perfect, so shining and shimmering, in my eyes. For making my heart swell with an emotion I haven't dared to feel for anyone else. For picking me up then letting me down, however gentle and slow it may have been. I hate them because they laid me on a bed of roses, then proceeded to remove all the petals so I felt the pricks of their thorns instead of silk. I hate them for not picking an argument when I knew it could've been the key to the knowledge they were hurt. For telling me the rules of change, but not enforcing it. For not pretending. For not loving. For doing unspeakable things to my heart and making me believe that we had a future.  I would've done anything for them. If only they had let me know, I would've dropped to my knees and stripped from my hide just to please them,. I would've surrendered and revealed myself to them, so that it might give them a better chance to understand the clockwork of my soul. I would've cut off every petal and mangled the rest so I might prove they were the lion tamer while I was a mere circus act. And yet I hate them. Every night I plead for their call, to hear them whisper my name from the bed. And yet, when they try to step in, I shut them out. Close the door on their nose and break their yearning fingers in the process. Their loving embrace and their warming touch, I still cry for desperately into endless nothing. But knowing they may not mirror these said actions, I quickly reject any of their motions, any invitations. I cannot, I will not, I shall not, ever dare to let their fingertips brush my flesh, for I am afraid if that contact may arise, I will become a slave to their every whim, again. I will wrap myself around their finger and never be able to unravel my stem.
I am afraid I will die in the arms of no one else because they are all I want. I am afraid of them and what they are capable of doing to me. I am afraid for myself and how long I may be able to wait this out. I hate them. But I love them. I don't want them. But I need them. What a dilemma.


They wish for nothing but the best,
The one that rises above the rest.
But, I denied their affections.
Handed them the wrong directions.
"Tell me, Patience.
Tell me, I'm your world."
Just for once,
Don't let this be part of a bunce?
Just for once,
Can they not think of me like a dunce?
And when the whole world seemed to fall apart,
She let me tear away their name from that work of art.
I wept for them.
Because how else was I supposed to bend?
So, tell me, 
Where was my fault,
In loving them with my whole heart?
Tell me,
Where was my fault,
In never giving up on them?


If I had the possibility to control time, I would, without a second thought, take the chance. The time would be set back to the days leading to my relapse of insecurity, where I would quickly smother them in the words of a lovestruck poet. What exactly the real meaning behind the dialogue would be, I could never know because I was never there. But if, in that moment I realized it still wouldn't make them love me as I loved them, I would go even farther backwards to a week in which I confessed everything with weak knees and shaking hands. And that is where, instead of asking for their hand, I would simply ask if they would truly, unconditionally love me as I learned to opened myself up. Yet, even if their words were a simple yes, or a long paragraph of how they so dearly would hold my heart (though we both know that would never happen), I would turn the tables and reject them. I would tell them how wrong they were, as so, I would explain how I could see, in such a quickly passing future, that they would not continue loving me if others did not accept it. They had always been a bit of a push-over, and a large amount of them screamed, "People Pleaser", but how could I ever say that to their beautiful face; it would surely make me seem rude and improper. And if that could not be done because of a filthy paradox, I would travel forward half a year, to a moment in which I broke us apart with simple words. I would tell them to just give it two months, before they welcomed the heart of another; two months time, before they launched themselves into the arms of someone I knew was better; melt as they would in their grasp, instead of freeze against my cold, stone chest. Two months is all I would've asked for, so now at least, I wouldn't feel bound against the chair in their darkened basement. “My sweetheart, my doll, my porcelain plates, my greatest treasure, my love and my soul, if we both can prove time-travelling only exists fairy tales, then I shall continue to cut off, piece by piece, my heart, and feed it to you in your lonely, starving and craving moments. Even when you believe in our love no longer, I shall forever remain at your side, and I swear to the heavens above, to protect your unobtainable heart in my mighty grasp, until you have found The One.”


I'm still make-believing,
That we're together.
But inside,
I'm tethered.
Just a dying fly,
In their non-existent palm.
This day was a hard day.
So I dreamt away,
Because they're only fiction;
A project for perfection.
Wishful thinking?
More like foolish hope.
A man trapped in a fantasy.
You wonder why he sleeps,
So soundly at night,
But tells you he had a nightmare.
Just thinking of them, 
Breaks my shrivelling heart.
They are the reason I stay up,
All until my eyes can no longer stay open.
And that is usually around dawn,
When the sun rises just over the horizon,
Peeking through the curtains.
But, it's still dark enough,
And it's still quiet enough,
For me to fall asleep.
And meet them.
I wish I could wake up.


Perfection does exist. Rather it's just an illusion, an aura, around someone you love so dearly, or a word to express your strong affection towards something you find to be acceptable. You can't live your life without saying, "This is perfect" or "They are perfect". Because one of these days, you're going to catch yourself in that sentence. Your very own voice, either in a subtle or brave tone, will say it. And you won't think twice. Because that thing or person will be so meaningful to you, that it literally puts you in a trance. A trance in which you can think of nothing else except it or them. A trance in which you could do anything without regret. A trance in which even the most terrifying nightmare seems as harmless as a ladybug. And what if, one of these days, you were to call your best friend perfect with so much unintentional love that you didn't know could exist? Imagine how hard it would be to brush it off; to tell yourself it's just jumbled feelings; that everyone experiences it. And what if they bring up the subject as just a simple, meaningless conversation? If every single word that arises from their mind kills you, little by little, because they have no clue what you really feel..? What if, soon enough, you don't know why living without them is a life at all? And you ask yourself, in the midst of their perfection, "Will it always be 'what if' not 'remember when'?"


MK (Monster Kid):
“I'm sorry I don't see you everyday.
And I'm sorry I can't really be there for you.
I'm sorry I get jealous.
And I'm sorry I love you so much.
I'm sorry for lying to you.
And I'm sorry for controlling you.
I'm sorry for taking you for granted.
And I'm sorry for not realizing sooner.
I'm sorry I let you go.
And I'm sorry I never cried until now.
I'm sorry it took me this long to tell you.
And I'm sorry for having a weak confidence.
I'm sorry for the times in which I care more about you than myself.
And I'm sorry when I'm too stuck up in my own problems to realize you weren't feeling the best.
I'm sorry I become extremely upset when someone uses your name for a bad cause.
And I'm sorry I'm so over-protective.
I'm sorry if sometimes I seem more like your father than a friend.
And I'm sorry if sometimes I boss you around.
I'm sorry for the times I've made you angry.
And I'm sorry for the times I've seen you cry.
I'm sorry there's so much distance between you… and them.
But trust me, I try.”


You'd never admit that you needed something to balance you out, but you know you do.
And yet, instead of filling the gap, you try to cover it up with ducktape and bandaids.
But one specific person comes running along, and tears away all those cover ups.
They erase your makeup, and you're wondering how they can stand to look at you with even the slightest bit of passion.
You know you're ugly on the inside, and you keep trying to hide it.
But they see right through.
And you wish so much that they wouldn't, but there's a little part of you that is glad that they do.
Your darkest side doesn't want them, but you need them.


Napstablook / Napstabot:
Space and time, is all we have.
In the spirit of stars, I would travel a lightyear, just to grasp your hand.
So, perhaps, I wouldn't feel so alone in the utter nothingness.
Head way above the clouds, you're so out of reach.
But I can't imagine being able to spin through my darkest nights without you.
The moon is beautiful, and the planets, exquisite.
But none of them could compare to the uniqueness of your face in the glow of the sun.
Breathing is not a responsibility, just when your presence comes into sight.
Yet, who needs oxygen, when you're my life support.
I struggle to find the words, even when nothing can be said.
And as you slowly slip from my grasp, I let out a silent cry for you.
But nothing is heard in the spirit of the stars, when space and time is all we have.


You're like a little star,
That's fallen from the sky.
Shot me straight through the heart,
And made its home nearby.
But I can't make you stay,
Because you're so far away.
Though, I hope someday I'll meet you,
With a kiss, maybe greet you.
For as long as I hear your voice,
My frown will be gone.
Just as day has its dusk,
So do I have my dawn.


Fate has been cruel and order unkind.
How can I have sent them away?
The blame was my own; the punishment, theirs.
The harmony's silent today.
But into the stillness I'll bring them a song.
And I will, their company, keep.
‘Til your tired eyes and my lullabies,
Have carried you softly to sleep.
Once did a ruler who shone like the sun,
Look out on his kingdom and sigh.
He smiled and said, "Surely, there is no ruler,
So lovely and so well beloved as I.”
So great was his reign and so brilliant his glory,
That long was the shadow he cast.
Which fell dark upon the young human he loved.
And grew only darker as days and nights passed.
Lullay moon princess, goodnight lover mine,
And rest now in moonlight's embrace.
Bear up my lullaby, winds of the earth,
Through cloud, and through sky, and through space.
Carry the peace and the coolness of night,
And carry my sorrow in kind.
Patience, you're loved so much more than you know,
Forgive me for being so blind.
Soon did that ruler take notice that others,
Did not give his lover their due.
And neither had he loved them as they deserved.
He watched as his lover’s unhappiness grew.
But such is the way of the limelight, 
It sweetly takes hold of the mind of its host.
And that foolish ruler did nothing to stop,
The destruction of one who had needed him most.
Lullay moon princess, goodnight lover mine,
And rest now in moonlight's embrace.
Bear up my lullaby, winds of the earth,
Through cloud, and through sky, and through space.
Carry the peace and the coolness of night,
And carry my sorrow in kind.
Patience, you're loved so much more than you know,
May troubles be far from your mind.
And forgive me for being so blind.
The years now before us,
Fearful and unknown.
I never imagined,
I'd face them on my own.
May these thousand winters,
Swiftly pass, I pray.
“I love you; I miss you,
All these miles away.”


I hope you have a happy day out there, although it's another without me.
A little part of me is pained by the thought, and I usually try to stuff it down.
But "stuffing it down" just doesn't work anymore.
I hope you realize that the next time I get to hug - or even see and touch - you, that I have missed your existence oh-so-dearly.
I will most likely cry, sob, or just hold you tight enough to hide the tears.
Why? Because it hurts.
It hurts knowing that I have no one to cuddle or kiss or just lay a hand on because everyone is so scared of me.
But what hurts even more, is the unrelenting fact that I have utterly taken your presence for granted.
You would've thought that after all this leaving they've done, that I would know better than to fall in love with someone already gone.
But I did. And I fell in love with you.


Love me, love me.
"Why can't you love me?
"Why won't you see me?"
Was it just some kindergarten crush; a meaningless attraction?
I tried to be everything.
And I would've changed.
I would've given up my life and soul to just be worth their time.
I would've done anything to just mean more to them.
What could I have done?
Tell me please.
"Why can't you love me?
"Why won't you see me?"
Say something to bring back the grace of my lips.
The long lost uttered words that made them fall so deeply in love with me.
Say something to help bring back the faith.
The long lost hope that made me cling so desperately onto them.
My heart swells uncomfortably when I see her in them.
The face, the eyes, the simple motions.
If I had no control they would be pinned against the wall.
A screech would rumble from the deepest chasm of my chest.
"Why can't you love me? 
"Why won't you see me?"
I bind their hands and they still won't touch me.
I tie their feet and they still won't walk to me.
“Talk to me, human; tell me what I've done wrong.
Speak to me, human; you're so very confusing.”
I wake up calling, screaming, for them and they still can't come running.
With my lips on another's, the question stills rings in my ears.
Bursting and bleeding.
"Why can't you love me?
"Why won't you see me?"

Chapter Text

They Tell You That You're Attractive:


You noticed she had been staring at you as you forked out noodles from a glass bowl. You honestly looked deranged as you tiredly but angrily fought the edible strings onto your silverware, but she seemed content in watching you. You placed the bowl in your lap and your fork clattered against it as you looked at her. The sudden noise seemed to have shaken her from the daze.
“Is something on your mind?” you inquired, voice rough from lack of sleep.
“Cute,” she muttered, smiling. “You're just cute.” Then, she swiveled her computer chair back around and continued doing whatever she had been doing on the internet. You noticed the tension in her shoulders, the way she practically shrunk into them as she waited for an answer - you were too tired to give her one. You stared at the ground for a few moments before setting the food aside and splaying across the couch. You sighed in content then fell asleep to the sound of her mouse clicking.


He stayed up late while reading, leaving you open times to visit when you were having trouble sleeping or feeling upset. Tonight was just another one of those nights and you curled up against him on the large couch, listening to his voice rumble as he read you a story, one hand wrapped around you as he flipped pages with the other. You were beginning to doze off when you heard him close the book, placing it somewhere else as he tucked you in both his arms. You murmured something in appreciation and he chuckled softly, sending vibrations echoing in his chest that lulled you deeper into unconsciousness. “(Y/N),” he spoke quietly, but his voice seemed to resonate around you, enrapturing you in all the right ways, “you're beautiful.”
“I know,” you mumbled. He snorted while you smiled sleepily, nuzzling deeper into his chest before taking a deep breath, then falling asleep.


Asriel was telling you a story he had learned from his mother when they would visit the Wishing Room, and you listened while watching the stars glimmer and wink in the dark. Your eyes travelled over and over the same expanse, and yet it seemed you could never quite make them all out. There was just a perpetual amount of burning, dying lights in the atmosphere, and you wished you could one day be close enough to touch one of them. It was a meaningless wish - one that would never find its end - but you held on to it until you felt the desire for something else. 
“And as midnight came, he named every star in the sky after her.” There was silence when he finished the tale, and you felt at peace, holding one of his hands.
“What was her name?” you asked softly, scouring the stars for one that was falling.
“That's up to you.”
“I get to choose?”
“Yeah, I mean, why not?”
You sighed, squeezing his hand once to make sure he was real. Under the night, you couldn't be sure that you were still awake. “What's the point? The story’s over.”
“But the end is just a new beginning.”
You looked into his eyes, trying to locate the true meaning of what he meant, and then, you decided. Looking back up, you saw a line of fire sprout in the darkness, then fade away. “Hi, Julia,” you greeted the stars.
“That name’s almost as beautiful as you.”
“Shut up. You're ruining the mood.”


Bleu (Nice Cream Guy):
You had taken up residence on your love seat with him, one foot hanging off the edge as you lied on your stomach, cheek squished against a cushion as you gazed at him through half-open eyes. A slight grin played on his features, ears unable to decide whether they want to stand up happily or droop tiredly. Eventually, they settled for something in between as he rested his head in the crook of his elbow, surveying your face intently. 
“What?” you asked drowsily, lips barely moving in coordination.
“You're…” His eyebrows furrowed as he struggled to think of the right word. “You're really pretty.” He lifted one hand and poked your nose, grinning. “But, at the same time, you're so much more than that.” 
You blushed and buried your face in your crossed arms, smiling as you steadily slipped into the awaiting dreams.


BP (Burgerpants):
He came over to your apartment a lot, and day-by-day, you revealed to him more about you. He learned today - er, tonight - that when it came to sleeping, you didn't mind having a companion. His lips pursed and he stared up at the ceiling as one of your arms draped across his torso, your head on his shoulder. He was pretty sure you had started quietly snoring until you spoke up.
“Hey,” you murmured, “you don't smell so bad today.”
His brows strung together, nose scrunching slightly. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”
“Mm… I suppose.”
He smiled wearily and pet your hair with one hand, glancing at you with his peripheral vision. The moonlight was brushing softly against your face, accentuating your smoother features and making your skin seem to glow in certain areas. “You know, at night, you look pretty good,” he admitted, returning to his pattern-tracing on the ceiling.
“Is it because you can barely see my face?” Your voice was muffled by his shirt.
“Whatever helps you sleep at night, buddy.”
“Don't call me that.”


“What if we just jumped down there?” came a murmur as you hunched over by the hole in the ground. “What if we just… made a life underground?”
Chara’s faint giggle echoed in the shadows. It would have drove anyone else crazy, but you seemed used to it. “Don't you understand?” they hissed, although they still sounded amused. “I already tried to do that for us.”
You peered into the never-ending black, the rest of your surroundings fading as it dared you to just do it, to just fall in. “But, now we're both here. And there's no one to stop us.”
Silence settled in the atmosphere, then the ground beside you was interrupted from its still as someone sat down. “If you're so curious, why aren't you already down there?”
“Because I want to know I won't be alone.”
Their amusement tilted your reality, filling you with nostalgia - and dread. “You're such an interesting creature, (Y/N).” A gentle hand was placed on your back, thumb rubbing soothing circles on the clothed flesh. “If you weren't so pretty, well… I might have had to reject your offer.” They giggled again. “See you soon!” Then, that hand pushed you into the abyss and you fell with a feeling that you weren't falling at all - that you were just suspended in thin air by invisible strings. Maybe you were: you sure felt like a puppet.


He stared at you as you slept peacefully, surveying your hand that almost seemed to being reaching desperately for him, then your face that was slightly covered in strands of hair. He was filled with the only thing he could ever really express - contempt - but it seemed to wither inside of him, soon planting a seed and blooming something else. He couldn't explain it - it had been so long. But he seemed comforted by the fact that you still wanted to be close to him, that you cared about his well-being. Looking down at the pot, that emotion continued rising, examining all the designs you had painted on. It had been unnecessary, and yet you had done it anyway. Sighing, a vine uprooted itself from the soil, snaking out to your face and brushing the locks back into place. It reeled back once finished and he stared at you a bit more before his leaves drooped and he found himself tired. “You're… an intricate human.” 
You smiled.


After quitting your job and joining forces with Frisk, it wasn’t uncommon to visit them - nor was it unusual for you to stay nights. You had been up all night watching B movies, some horror and other comedy - you didn't dare to touch on the topic of romcoms. But now, you both had set the snacks aside, leaning against each other for support and not thinking about morning. Frisk looked up at you in the shifting lights from the television screen, a certain glimmer in their eyes. You returned the gaze and smiled softly, brushing a bit of their hair from their face as they examined your expression.
“You look better… when you smile,” they whispered, and you chuckled.
“Thanks,” you whispered back and placed a kiss on their forehead.


“Are you afraid of them?” he inquired from the desk, pen tapping the side of his skull as his faintly glowing pupils traced your dark phantom.
“Who’s ‘them'?”
“The nightmares.” The white circles in his eye sockets trained on the ground, and his writing utensil ceased moving. “You know they are nothing but figments of your imagination, correct?”
“I do.” Your own eyes followed the direction of his. “But that doesn't make it any different.”
“I understand humans can develop post-traumatic stress disorder. Do you believe that is what you're experiencing?”
“I don't know,” you grumbled, hugging yourself. “I don't know what's real anymore.”
He chuckled and your gaze flickered up to him. His hollow eyes stared back. “I wish I could help, but it never gets better.” He stood up from his chair and wandered over to you, then helped you settle into the sheets. “Just sleep now, Gorgeous. This is no time to worry.”
And so you did.


You leaned on the bar, twirling a shot glass around your finger and listening to it roll against the wood. Your phone buzzed in your pocket, signalling messages from family you weren't willing to reply to. When they figured out you took up relations with a monster, their loving nature turned bittersweet, kindly trying to convince you to cut off ties. Grillby knew and found it rather funny, but the solemn look on your face made the amusement dissipate. As he rearranged a few bottles, he decided to cheer you up.
“You're my favorite,” he spoke confidently, and you flinched at the unfamiliar deepness of his voice.
Your eyes flickered up to him and your glass stopped moving. “Favorite what?”
Your piercing, questioning gaze reduced him down to nothing, and he felt oddly nervous while under your full attention. “O-Oh, well,” he stammered. “Well, just that. My favorite pair of eyes to look into. My favorite face to appear in my pub. My favorite way to spend my evening. Fill in the blank, Beautiful. I left it at favorite for a reason.”
The whole restaurant seemed to heat up by fifty degrees, your eyes narrowing to push back tears. Your hands clasped around the glass then you leaned over the bar and placed a peck to his cheek. You hovered by his face for a moment before whispering, “You're my favorite, too.”


It was the first time he had visited you outside the mall. What a wonder for that place to be your trashy apartment. Your heart sunk as he carefully stepped around all the random articles of clothing and abandoned bags of junk food, lips pursed in concentration. Sighing, you tossed your keys onto a table and removed your jacket, grabbing a chair for support. You shook in anxiety, taking deep breaths to try and calm yourself down. Perhaps it was a bad idea bringing him here without attempting to clean up, or just in general. You blinked back a few tears of frustration and fought to find your happy place before turning around a facing him. You could just pick up a few things after putting something on TV for him to watch, sweep a few things out of sight so you didn't seem like such a slob. Yeah, that sounded -
“Darling?” Heels clicked on the tiles of your dining room/kitchen, and a hand soon found its way to your shoulder. “What's the matter?”
You found your voice, but everything sounded choked. “I shouldn't have brought you here. I'm a total mess. I understand if this disgusts y-”
“No, no, no,” he reassured, clasping his palms over both your shoulders and spinning you towards him. “If anything, your beautiful face makes up for it all~” Your head hung and you wrung your hands, trying to push down the guilt. Mettaton chuckled, kissing your nose before pulling you in a tight hug. “There, there.” You smiled at his attempt to cheer you up.


MK (Monster Kid):
“You loved him, didn't you?” MK stared at you as you lied on his couch, sulking to yourself. You had recently lost your only, last-living relative to drugs. You were lost as to what to feel. They had never been the best role model, but they supplied you shelter. That counted for something, right?
“Of course I did. He was my father.”
You moved your legs aside as MK hopped up to sit down. He seemed to contemplate something before speaking up. “No,” he gazed at you solidly, “I mean, you really loved him, didn't you?”
You sat up and threw your legs of the couch, pulling the armless monster closer to you. Biting your lip, you tried to convey the emotional pain through physical actions and speech, but found yourself stuck. “Yeah,” you choked out, tears rolling. “Yeah, I did.”
He leaned into you as you cried, whispering: “You're beautifully strong.”
You didn't know if you believed him yet.


The flowers were beginning to wilt and the leaves steadily turned the colors of a fire, but the scenery was still beautiful. It must have been a morbid thought to some, that death was alluring, but everything would come back alive when the colder seasons passed - so you enjoyed the warm spectrum while you could. Looking to Muffet, it seemed the only thing of her that blended with Autumn were the bows in her hair, but it seemed fitting. She surveyed you, too, from your outfit to your face, smiling devilishly - that was just her way.
“This lighting suits you, ahuhuhu~” Her familiar laughter rang and hung in the air, distant birds chirping in response. You grinned.
“Are you saying I look good today?”
On one side of her face, three eyes closed as if to represent a wink. “You always look presentable, darling,” she purred, wrapping a set of arms around you and hugging you against her side.
You enjoyed her warmth and the nature around you for the rest of the day.


Napstablook / Napstabot:
He had invited you to his home, and although it was dusty and some of the wallpaper was peeling, it was quite the humble abode. Music played lightly in the background as you both took up space on a couch, you discussing random topics to yourself while he listened. Minutes turned to hours as your one-sided conversation went through a multitude of topics, ranging from facts about liver to asking why penguins couldn't fly. Suddenly, Blooky raised a hand and you paused.
“I-I just…” His face turned the usual teal color and he began twiddling his thumbs. “You look cute when your face lights up like that.”
Your eyebrows raised and you tilted your head. “Like what?”
His usual shy smile stretched into a grin. “Like that.” And with one hand, he poked your cheek, palm hovering hesitantly beside your neck for a second before he leaned over and placed a kiss on the bridge of your nose. He pulled back with the proudest look on his face.


“HUMAN!” Your ears rung as you turned around, looking up to meet eyes with your tall skeleton friend. “I AM BEGINNING TO WONDER WHY YOU ARE SIGNIFICANTLY MORE - more, uh…” One of your eyebrows raised as his voice faltered. That's never happened before. “- MORE APPEALING THAN OTHER HUMANS.” You were taken aback by the sudden volume, but more so over what he had said.
“What?” He seemed uneasy you decided to question what just happened.
“Don't tell your other human friends, but,” he tried to whisper, “you are considerably more attractive than them.” If he had eyes, they would've popped out as he threw his hands in the air. “LET THE WORLD KNOW!” 
“But you just said not to -”
“HUSH, NOW!” He picked you up by the armpits and held you against his rib cage to silence you. “WORRY NOT, I WILL NOT LET THEM SEE YOU AND BOIL OVER IN ENVY!” He began running off through the park with you still locked in his skeletal arms, that usual “NYEH HEH HEH” of a laugh echoing in the air.


“Y’know, when certain people walk into your life, it's like this wash of relief.”
“It's like you know the stars are aligned now.”
“Sans, please.”
“And you know everything is going to be okay.”
“Sans, holy shit, would you just help me?” He turned around, pausing in his stroll to see you struggling with a cooler, weak arms fighting to pick it back up from where it had landed on your foot. Your expression was desperate as your nose scrunched, lips pursed and shoulders heaving in exhaustion.
“I felt that when I saw you.” Your features smoothed, eyes shimmering as you soaked in his words, heart rising into your throat. “And this eye joke could not get any cornea.”
The frustrated look came back and you heaved the cooler into your arms, struggling to carry it all the way to his stand.


You sat on the armrest of her reading chair, head leaning against hers while you followed the words in the book as she spoke. You had long forgotten your surroundings and the numb burning in your calves at the odd angle, caught up in her voice as it spoke not to you, but something beyond you. Your heart thumped peacefully, like a metronome for her story-telling, and you were sure she could feel it. She closed the book after a few chapters and rested it carefully in her lap before she began to look at you and you shifted away.
She smiled thoughtfully and tugged on the fabric of your newly-fitted article of clothing. “The sweater looks nice on you.”
“Are you saying that just because you made it?” She seemed shocked by your remark and you struggled to keep in an apology. After a moment, the light returned to her eyes and she laughed.
“No, of course not. I'm saying that because it genuinely compliments your features. N-Not that you looked bad before..!”
You smirked then nuzzled back against her side. “Thanks, Tori.”


“Hey, Loser.” Your eyebrows raised in curiosity as you swiveled to meet eyes with your fish friend. You gulped harshly at the sports bra and tight shorts she had put herself into, but tried to act like you weren't affected. “I’m going to be exercising in the backyard. Wanna join?”
A stupid smile came upon your face, but it vanished when you remembered how physical activity actually required work. “U-Uh… Do you mind if I just watch?” You almost slapped yourself - what kind of question is that?
“Nope.” She popped the ‘p' with her lips before she began heading for the glass sliding doors. Abruptly, she paused and glanced over her shoulder. “Your hair looks nice today.”
“What?” Instinctively, you rose a hand to run it through the strands then realized you’d look like an idiot and dropped it. You smiled nervously. “Oh. Thanks!”
She smirked, nodding. “Uh huh.”

Chapter Text

They Get Jealous:


Mettaton had received note of your repetitious appearance in his friend’s life, and decided to pay a little visit to make sure you weren’t causing havoc. That little visit turned into a full scale conversation on how to do winged eyeliner perfectly, and then arguing that he couldn’t know because he only had to draw on one eye. Apparently to you, if symmetry wasn’t needed, it was cheating. Alphys watched everything unfold – the playful shoving and eyelash batting as compliments were exchanged. Her eye twitched. Spinning side-to-side in her desk chair, she tried to distract herself from your hysterical laughs and his robotic giggling. It didn’t work. 
“H-Hey, (Y/N),” she called you, basking in the fact that you stop mid-conversation to direct your attention towards her. “Do you like… anime?” 
You blinked, seemingly trying to process what she had said before a kind smile spread on your lips. “Alphy, I watch anime with you every week. Isn’t it obvious?” She blushed, finger tapping against each other as she realized how suspicious her question had been.
“Are you, perhaps, jealous~?” Mettaton inquired impishly from the couch, and you glanced at him before your curious eyes travelled back to her.
“N-No!” The red of her cheeks deepened. “I mean – no. I was just making sure.” Then, she turned her chair around and acted like something important on her laptop. You grinned.


Out in the garden, you played a small game of tag with Frisk, being wary of the practical forest of flowers as you ran between them all. The king watched from his back porch, sipping lightly on iced tea while he watched. Eventually, you and Frisk wore each other out and plopped down on a patch of dirt, examining the sunset as you asked quietly how beautiful it looked in color. Frisk replied in an equal volume, telling you it was “sooo pretty”, and you laughed, a grin stretching your lips. Asgore surveyed your face in the dimming, orange light, wondering why you rarely made an expression like that around him. Something in his chest twisted and he frowned. The ice jingled in his glass, and it gained your attention, the same beam on your features as you looked at him.
“Gorey, c’mon,” you beckoned, patting the ground beside you. But he refused, shaking his head light and waving a hand as if to direct your attention back to the sunset. You made a “really?” face then shrugged, wrapping an arm around Frisk’s shoulder while continuing to observe nightfall. That was the final straw. Chuckling to himself, he set down the glass and made his way over to you, sitting down and pulling you into his side, hand holding you protectively. You smirked against the fabric of his shirt. 


You hadn’t come up the hill, and he was beginning to worry. You visited him every day, same time and place – was it possible you had gotten tired of him? He trekked to your house and the bottom of the slope and spied into one of your windows. Through the half-open blinds, he could make out your figure beside another, and with poor insulating, he heard your muffled laughs too. Irritation scratched at his heart. His frown dug deep and he stood there, sulking for a while until the blinds were suddenly pulled up, leaving him totally visible to whoever was inside the house. You stood there with a smirk playing on your lips, arms crossed. His eyes shifted to-and-fro as he contemplated a means of quick escape, but you unlatched the lock and slid the window up, peering out the open space. 
“Sorry I’m late, but you didn’t have to get so worked up.” He scoffed, trying to defend himself. You interrupted his stuttering. “Want to meet my aunt?”
“Uh…” His voice caught in his throat, so he cleared it and grinned. “Yeah, totally!” You laughed and went around to the front door to let him inside. 
He soon found your relative’s name was Julia.


Bleu (Nice Cream Guy):
Sans had moved his stand across the street from Bleu’s cart, giving you more time to speak with him whenever you swung around. And, Bleu didn’t really understand it, but he was really irked by the fact it seemed you were talking more to the skeleton than him, but kept the thoughts to himself. He didn’t want to seem possessive – you weren’t in his control, by any means. You were just walking back to his cart, and his ears were drooping sadly, whiskers twitching as he acted busy with closing the metal lid. 
“Hey,” you cooed, landing one hand on his shoulder, “what’s wrong?”
“Huh? Oh, nothing. I’m tired,” he sighed, leaning into your touch. You eagerly wrapped him in a side-embrace.
“Yeah, that’s usually my excuse, too.” You laughed breathily. “If you want to talk about it, let me know.”
There was silence for a spell, then he spoke softly. “You still like me, right?” You seemed shocked by the question, neck twitching as your eyebrows furrowed.
“Of course. Why would I ever stop?”
He smiled slightly. “I was just checking.”


BP (Burgerpants):
It had been a habit of curiosity to begin petting between his ears, but now it was just a habit. You enjoyed the faint rumbling that sounded from his throat while he purred, and how his eyes closed halfway as he tried to remain awake. You snickered every time he failed to fight you off, to which he tried to protest, but it only came out as incomprehensible grumbles. Your hand dropped to your lap suddenly, and he looked up to figure out why. There was a male human walking down the alley towards you both, and a small smile played on your lips as you watched them. He felt mildly threatened, and couldn’t figure out why. 
“Hey, (Y/N). Long time no see,” the man spoke. BP’s eye twitched at the sound of his deep voice, and his grip on the phone tightened. “Who’s your friend?”
You surveyed the cat monster and noticed his tension, sneakily grabbing his arm and squeezing it to comfort him. “Burgerpants, this is Felix. Felix, this is Burgerpants. We’ve been hangin’ out with each other for quite a while now.” You smile at him before looking to your old friend.
“So you’re dating, then?” The question shocked you into silence and you released the monster, trying to find words. BP did that for you.
“You better hope I’m not,” he growled, and Felix chuckled nervously.
“Alright, well… It was nice to see you again.” And with that, he walked off. You waited until he disappeared around a corner to speak, but everything came out as wild laughing.
“You – you were –” You covered your mouth as if to suppress the cackles. The cat glared at you. “I’m sorry. That was priceless.” 
“Yeah. Whatever.”


Neither of you expected anyone else to be underground after the barrier broke, but when Chara fell gracefully into the bed of flowers and you continued to the next room, you were met with a nauseating wave of déjà vu. There was a smiling flower in a conveniently placed patch of grass towards the middle of the room, and its face brought you a sense of regret. It greeted you both by your names, seeming hesitant on saying yours. You wondered why, yet felt like you already knew - your run had spared no one, and he was one that had probably just gotten in the way. You felt bad so you moved yourself closer to Chara. You spent hours talking with the flower, learning useful things about the below-surface towns, although your companion seemed bored by it all and rarely added anything for the conversation. Eventually, your friend grasped your arm roughly and growled that you had to leave, pulling you along and out of the darkened space.
“What was that about?” you asked quietly as they stepped on gray panels. 
“Nothing,” they replied solidly, and you decided to drop the topic. It was meant for another time.


Outside the fence, you were talking with a neighbor he didn't realize you had. He sat in the backyard, surveying you both during the chat, and steadily grew closer when neither of you were looking. Once the distance was minimized and he could hear both your voices clearly, he ceased delving into the ground and popping up somewhere else, but you noticed something was a bit off.
"Flowey," you called and he acted like he hadn't been looking at you beforehand. "What are you doing?"
His browline scrunched, eyes narrowing. "I don't know what you're talking about."
You glanced at your neighbor and he dismissed himself, leaving you and the flower alone.
"Oh, really? You don't?"
"Look, I just wanted to make sure you weren't trying to sell me off as a circus act, alright?"
You giggled and stuck your hand through the fence, brushing his petals. "Never, Flowey. Never."
He couldn't help but smile.


You spoke with Toriel in hushed voices, leaning against the table to hear each other better. They didn’t understand what was so secretive, but didn’t want to intrude, thus, they rested into the cushions, flipping through TV channels until one of Mettaton’s shows came on – another re-run. After a while, they missed your presence, used to cuddling you and not a flimsy pillow. They began sighing, each one growing louder until they were sure they could’ve broken a record for breathing volume. When sighs failed to work, they groaned. Once. Twice. Thrice. They were about to go on their fourth when your head appeared over the couch, a questioning look on your face as you gazed down at them. Frisk grinned, grabbing your face and pulling you down for an Eskimo kiss. They happily nuzzled their nose against yours and you blushed, muttering something before standing up straight and glancing at Toriel. 
You laughed nervously at the stern expression on her features then pointed at the back of Frisk’s head. “They started it.”


You closed the bedroom door behind you and he swung around in the chair, watching you plop onto the bed and whip your phone out. He stretched his jaw to say something, but you interrupted his train of thought as you scrolled through something on your mobile screen.
“I met with your sons today. They’re enjoyable, but one seems… Uh, I don’t know how to put it lightly… depressed?” He was taken aback by that, and a sudden anger filled him.
“You what?”
Your gaze lifted to him, an eyebrow raising. “I found them online, said I wanted to speak to them – it wasn’t that difficult, really.”
“Why did you –?”
“I mean, you need to get out more. You’ll go stir crazy in here. Plus, I know you miss them. You probably haven’t seen them in… in years…”
He breathed out heavily, resting his forehead against his knuckles. “It wasn’t your business. I would have gotten around to it eventually.”
“You whisper their names in your sleep, Gaster.” Your expression was that of concern. “One of them – ah, Papyrus? – he doesn’t even know you exist. And the other one… I think he’s losing hope that you’re real, too.”
“Did you do it for me, or them?” he snarled beneath his breath and you stammered something inaudible as you tried to find an answer.
“Why would that matter?” You threw your phone onto the sheets and got up from the bed, walking over to him. Kneeling, you looked up at his face through his hands. “I care about you. I don’t want you to hurt anymore.” You sighed shakily and your eyes went to the floor. “The past is the past, but sometimes you need to face it in order to move on.” You grabbed his skeletal hands in your own, pulling them away from his skull. “They need you as much as you need them.” You paused, smiling. “And I need you, too.”


He entered his apartment to the sound of conversation and quiet giggles, seeing you seated on the chair you had claimed as yours every time you visited, but another figure rested across from you on the couch. Somewhere in those flames, his eyebrows raised. The talking ceased and you slowly turned in your chair, smiling.
“Grillby,” your voice was unnaturally sweet, “you never told me you had a daughter, she’s quite nice.” He was almost positive that was longest sentence you had uttered without cursing. He was pleasantly shocked, then his head tilted up to meet the other monster in the room. There was an awkward silence and your expression steadily grew annoyed. “Fuck, really? You’re acting like you’re trying to figure out a polite way to tell her that she’s adopted.” The girl engulfed in emerald flames snorted, covering the part of her face a mouth could be as she began laughing. Grillby rubbed his non-existent face tiredly, pushing his glasses back up afterwards. Sighing, he seated himself on the couch and listened to the two of you talk, the evening turning to dusk as he wondered why you’d never spoken to him this long. He never thought about the fact that he wasn’t the greatest at conversation, and excused himself from the living room. 
He stayed awake all night, lying in his bed, and listened to the front door close as you left. Only a few minutes later, a knocking came from the wall behind him and he chuckled, knocking back. There was silence after that, then he heard your giggles on the other side.


“So, you come here often?” You snorted at the female’s comment as she sat down across from you, her own cup of caffeine nestled in her delicate hands. Smiling, you nodded, sipping at your drink.
“Yeah, actually, a lot. This is kinda a hangout for a friend and me,” you responded without missing a beat.
“Oh really?” she purred, flicking her hair behind her shoulder, batting her eyelashes.
You swatted at one of her free hands, laughing. “Klow, stop. You weirdo.”
“I am. Thanks for noticing,” she joked, giggling along. As she continued to speak, catching up with you, Mettaton strolled in and his visible eyebrow raised. He hesitantly continued his trek to the both of you, and you smiled up at him. He smiled back, but it faltered as he grabbed a chair and set it next to you, swiftly taking a seat. 
“Hey,” your friend greeted him, waving shortly with a grin.
“Hello,” he replied slowly and you glanced unsurely at him. You and Klowbi continued to talk, and occasionally during the conversations, the robot would shove his way in or grasp your hand as if trying to grab your attention. When it was time to leave, you bid your old friend goodbye, then turned to Mettaton.
“For being a global superstar, you sure get jealous over little things.” He scoffed and tried to defend himself but you just laughed and made your way out of the mall.


MK (Monster Kid):
“Hey, so…” Your voice trailed as you walked alongside your favorite monster. He eyed you curiously. “I’m going to be seeing a therapist tomorrow. I won’t be able to walk you home.”
His brow line scrunched and he moved closer to you during the trek. “What’s a therapist?”
“Uh, well.” You watched the lines in the sidewalk pass beneath your feet. “It’s basically a professional that you can talk to about your feelings. They help you sort out your emotions so… so you know how to fix what’s going on.” 
His shirt brushed against your shoulder. “But, I thought you knew? Aren’t you just upset?”
You smiled lightly and wrapped an arm around his neck, breathing slowly. “I think it runs a little deeper than that, kid.”
“Why can’t you talk to me?”
“I – I…” You stuttered, and just couldn’t find an explanation. “I don’t know.” He settled for that and you both walked in a comfortable silence. You’d miss him, even if was just for a day.


You were taking an awfully long time at the counter, and when she swiveled in the chair to figure out what you were doing, she saw you speaking with another monster across the counter. You seemed to be laughing, pounding on the counter lightly at points. She brushed it off, turning back around and staring out one of the wide windows. It seemed like forever before she glanced at you again and found you still talking. Sighing, she lifted herself from the table and wandered over to you, wrapping a few hands around your arm and tugging slightly. Your eyes flickered to her and guilt was apparent on your face as you apologized, then introduced her to the person you had been conversing with. She smiled kindly to them, giving a brief greeting, then pulling on your arm again. You seemed to have received the message, and excused the both of you, grabbing your bag of delicacies. As you both walked to the plaza, you began laughing.
“Care to share?” Muffet questioned with her usual, suave voice, which seemed to deepen your merriment.
“You should have seen your face!” you chortled, clapping your hands together. “You were practically turning green!” The spider woman’s expression grew unamused and her arms crossed, one hand snatching your paper bag. “Hey!” Grinning wickedly, she quickly climbed up a tree and took seat on a branch, watching you struggle to jump and reach her height. “Unfair,” you claimed, slumping against the trunk. But she could see the smirk on your face.


Napstablook / Napstabot:
There was elderly monster sitting at one of the tables in the library, and he had caught your attention early on with his loud, careless cackling and short-term memory. Your robot friend watched from a distance in your claimed chair, fingers tapping aimlessly on his keyboard as he tried not to watch you. He felt his face tinge blue with jealousy as you continued speaking to the turtle (tortoise?), and put on music to calm himself down. The loud beat and rumbling bass appeared to have caught your attention, as you twisted around and smiled at your usual library companion. You bid adieu to the elder and skipped over to Napstablook, throwing your bag down before snuggling down next to him.
“How, uh… was your talk?” His hands covered his face in embarrassment as your eyebrows furrowed. “Oh… I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to intrude.” You grasped his hands softly, but he refused to budge. “I interrupted you, didn’t I? Oh…”
“Blooky,” you cooed, jerking his arms playfully. “Why are you acting like this? I thought we – …” He peeked out from between his fingers and you could see blue tears streaking his face. “Hey, sweetheart.” Your hands moved behind his back and you pressed him against you. His shoulders shook and you hushed him. 
“I-It’s fine if you want –” He hiccupped and you felt your heart rip. “– you want to hang out with other people. I… I get it if you don’t want me anymore.”
“No,” you breathed against him. “Nothing like that.” And you comforted him until he calmed, playing the song you had made together.


“HUMAN!” He was somewhat shocked to see you sitting on your couch with another person, but you smiled at him as the door slammed. The figure sitting in front of you flinched at the loud noise and spun on the cushion, eyeing him with a hint of fear in their eyes. “OTHER HUMAN!”
You nudged the scared person. “That’s Papyrus.” They seemingly calmed and began smiling. You stood from your seat, taking a few steps forward before gesturing to your human friend. “This is Elliot.”
“Do I know them?” he seemingly tried to mumble to you, a hand hiding his mouth from Elliot.
“No,” you whispered back before chuckling. “Elliot owns a restaurant down the road. I figured he could join us in one cooking lesson.”
“Well, yes…” You seemed to contemplate your words. “But, uh… Elliot knows how to make spaghetti – with different noodles.”
“DIFFERENT NOODLES?” You were sure in Papyrus’s head, the world had just ended, and you grinned at Elliot. He eyed you warily and you shrugged in response. “OTHER HUMAN – er, Elliot – YOU MUST TEACH ME YOUR WAYS! NOW!!!” He gripped the male’s arm and dragged him to the kitchen, you followed one step at a time. You settled for just watching, enjoying the struggles that Elliot endured while trying to keep the excitable skeleton in line. In the end, they just end up making a pizza with noodles and parmesan as the toppings. Heh, more like, parmesans.


It was the one day a few people actually swung around the stand, and he found himself comfortable watching you handle things. You glared at him when he waved you off as you asked for help, but your irritation had long faded when a particularly interesting character landed himself at the stand. He wore a rather formal button-up shirt, and his brown pants looked iron-pressed. Even his shoes looked polished and expensive, a wool sweater draped over an arm. He smiled politely at you and asked for a hot dog with an actual “please”. As you bent over to grab one, you muttered, “Hey, Sans, take notes,” and he chuckled in response. You quickly handed the food to the man and thanked him for the change, although, he didn’t leave. You both began talking, mainly discussing about how he afforded such fashion, and somehow you both got onto the topic of your writing. When the man (then known as “Tim”) began dropping subtle flirts, complimenting your work ethic, Sans moved forward and laid an arm on your shoulder.
“Hey, buddy, you’re holding up the line.” The man stuttered an apology and swiftly left, leaving you with the view of an empty street.
“… There’s no one even here.”
“Hey, there could be hungry ghosts. Ya’ never know.” You raised an eyebrow at the skeleton and his grin grew wider. 


She had been dropping Frisk off at Asgore’s house, and you just so happened to be riding along. At the doorstep it seemed you took an interest in the second goat monster, talking to him about his flowers and such. Toriel waited patiently beside you at first, staring off at the street where the car awaited and Frisk ran around, but the minutes began to slow and her mood slowly turned sour. She began prodding your side, once every few minutes, before she suddenly jabbed you between the ribs and you shrieked. Asgore chuckled heartily as you clung to the past queen’s dress, startled but laughing along. She took that as the perfect escape route, placing a hand on your back and leading you down the porch’s stone steps. You quietly protested about not saying goodbye but she hushed you and open the passenger side door, ushering you in. She waved shortly to Frisk, placing a kiss against their hair before moving around to the driver’s side and climbing in.
“Were you impatient or jealous?” you inquired suddenly as she started the car.
You smirked, shaking your head lightly and leaning your face against the glass. “You were totally jealous…”


Out of anime ideas, she dragged you along to Alphys’s apartment, but found you both spoke to each other more about the ones you had already watched rather than ones you should watch. The conversation carried out over a quick dinner, and Undyne grudgingly ate alongside you. You noticed her grumpiness but figured she’d get over it when you got around to playing something – yet, it seemed night fell and the TV was still not turned on, the yellow monster still rambling about shows along with you. The fish’s eyelids drooped and her mood failed to brighten as she tightly grasped your hand. 
“We need to go,” she grumbled and you just shrugged her off, giving the “five more minutes” excuse. She tried again, hand landing on your leg. You paused in your speech, swallowing dryly before continuing. “(Y/N),” Undyne groused, leaning close to your ear. You shivered. “I left my stove on.”
You closed your eyes tightly and sighed, Undyne grinning as she knew she had won. You gave Alphys your goodbyes, and you promptly left with your usual, grumpy companion in tow. “Could you not grip my thigh next time?” you muttered on your way out.

Chapter Text

Doggo Scenarios:


You couldn't help who you were. And your mother taught you not to apologize for being yourself. But people were scared. They saw something abnormal and their instantaneous reaction was to fear it. Once, in third grade, a group of kids managed to crawl under your skin by calling you “creepy” and “freak”. When you returned home and cried to your mother, she told you something you still haven't forgotten, to this day. “I think creepy is just another label we use to distance ourselves from things we don't understand, or reminds us of something inside ourselves that we’re not comfortable with.” That sentence has stuck with you throughout the years, motivating you - reminding you that the majority of people were ignorant. But remember, there's a difference between ignorance and arrogance. 
As you sat on the bench, waiting for the bus, you saw him. It was raining fairly hard, and the air was clouded with fog, seemingly making his ears droop in disdain. You couldn't blame him. On the other side of you, there was a human couple sending him side glances and as your neck cracked unnaturally they began watching you, too. You were used to it, but you didn't understand what was so creepy about him: he was just a dog; a dog with out-of-date clothes, spiked collar, and a smoking dog treat. Not to mention the fact that he stood on two legs, but it wasn't that mind-boggling. Your heart shriveled when your shoulder twitched and his head snapped to you, too. He eyed the space where you were sitting with a scowl, then he hesitantly pulled his gaze away. Maybe you were the only freak there, and they both had been looking at you the whole time. Maybe you were just a freak.


Meeting… Again:
Nobody was at the bus stop except him, the next day, and he seemingly watched you intently with his peripheral vision. Your ego was slowly diminishing as he continued staring, eyes travelling every area of your body that twitched. At one point, you couldn't suppress the grunt that rumbled in your throat, but it appeared to make him snap out of the gazing for a few minutes. A few. 
“Hey.” Your eyes flickered left and right as you began locating the voice, then they landed on him. For being a dog, he had a rather deep, gravely voice. You kind of liked it. “Are you okay? You're all fidgety.”
You mumbled curses beneath your breath then shrugged, fabric rustling as it crinkled. “I-I’m sorry.” Your eyes narrowed and you cleared your throat. “I can't really help it.”
His white brows furrowed, and he took a few cautious steps towards you, then plopped down on the bench. His leg brushed against yours for a moment, but you didn't really register it.
“I don't mind.” He looked blankly off at the street. “I can’t see things unless they move.” You giggled and he managed to smirk. Then, your head snapped in his direction and he instantly stared back, eyes wide and shimmering. You laughed more.


Becoming Friends:
“Yeah, some people grow up sheltered. They don't experience people like me until they live without their parents.” He chuckled, muttering something like: ‘You're telling me.’ You playfully rammed your shoulder into his, enjoying the tickling sensation of his fur against your skin. “Nobody teaches you about people with disorders - you just learn about it over TV or books. And they just… They can't give a perfect image of what it's really like. I'm not a bad person because of what goes on in my brain. I'm just hardwired a little differently.”
He eyed you as you blinked rapidly, then it ceased. He smiled. “What do you, uh…”
“What have I been diagnosed with?” you finished for him and he nodded. “Tourette Syndrome. Started when I was 5. You should have seen me then…”
“What do you mean?” Sometimes you never completed your rants just to hear him speak. His voice was so… so relaxing.
“My twitching was more like spasming, and when I hit my early teens, I had vocal tics, too.” You snorted. “You probably wouldn't believe it, but uh, I barked. A lot.” He didn't know whether he should laugh or not, but when a grin spread on your face, he decided to join you. “All my teachers hated me. They’d be giving a lecture and I’d interrupt them with a loud bark.” Your eyes cast down and you leaned closer to him. “Sometimes that accidental disrespect was the only reason people liked me in school. Then, I learned I was just a circus act, and they were looking through the cage.”
“You're not a circus act.” His tone was gruff and you felt yourself beaming as you looked at him. It took a few moments, but then he chuckled and ruffled your hair.


You both began to meet each other at different places other than the bus stop - such places being: the park, Grillby’s, or the lake. You were at the lake this particular day, and you laid out a picnic blankets underneath the shade of a thick layer of aspen trees. You had wore both your arm and Doggo out by throwing a stick and cackling as he instinctively went to fetch it. He always seemed unamused by the time he came back with it between his teeth, but you knew he secretly enjoyed it. Now, you just enjoyed the smell of the water and earth, head resting against his chest as he slung an arm around your shoulders. You wanted to ask him to tell you a story, but felt like that’d sound ridiculous.
“Hey, bucko. You haven't moved in a while.”
“‘S ‘cause I'm relaxed. Lack of anxiety helps reduce tics occasionally.”
“Good to know.” Then, together, you both fell into a comfortable silence. Well, he actually fell asleep… but it was still comfortable!


Stronger Than You:
You were angry, not heartless. Even smacking a dog lightly with a newspaper after it chewed up your favorite pair of shoes left you with a lingering sense of guilt. But as he stood before you, blind and defenseless, you figured maybe you could finish him off easily. But he did not go down with one hit, and your heart felt like it was being punctured as he whined in pain. Still, he held up, asking where you were. You took a deep breath, catching his attention, but you swung one last time before he could react. You stared at the pile of ash he left behind, then slumped into the snow, hugging yourself. In the distance, you could hear more dogs yipping and howling, seemingly acknowledging his death without actually witnessing it. You cried with them, sobs overridden by their own vocal acts of pain.


But That's Not Strong Enough:
“Hey, what's a game you can play with a dog?” You leaned against the stand, watching him peer over the edge. He remained silent and you understood why. “Asking for a friend.”
“Who’s there?” he growled. You removed one hand from your bleeding wound then waved it in front of him. His eyes were on it the moment it twitched, but he blinked when you quickly reeled it back. You put more pressure on the cut in your torso, but that only seemed to make it bleed more, so you slid down the corner of the stand and sat in the snow. You heard the scraping of his claws on the ground as he settled back beneath the counter, and for one final attempt at a joke, you pounded on the wood. He yelped in fear and you laughed until your vision faded to black.


They Comfort You:
“What's a game you can play with a dog?” you questioned mindlessly, staring out at the rippling water with a frown. He surveyed you, and noticed your tics were less evenly spread out. He remembered what you said about anxiety and pulled you closer to him, comforting you in the only way he knew how. “Asking for a friend.” Children played on the small beach, and every audible sentence they spoke, you would repeat it in mutters. He didn't know if that was your way of coping, or part of the syndrome. He held you close despite it all. “When I was in third grade, a group of kids called me a freak.” He pet your hair with one hand, just listening - he figured that was all you needed. “And I believe them, sometimes. But you're making me think otherwise.” You shuddered against him and he grinned, watching you look up at him. He never thought he’d see such hope in a pair of broken eyes.


Letters to the Lost:
If we continue on like this, 
I'll find it hard not to fall in love with you.
Too little are people concerned.
Too little do they notice my weariness.
But you...
You tell me to relax.
That I need to breathe.
I try,
And I appreciate,
The time you're wasting to remind me everything's fine.
Where were you all of my life,
When I thought the walls were crumbling down around me?
You can see past the broken humor,
The shaky laughs.
You know when it's awkward,
When it's forced.
"Are you okay?"
You ask it so rarely,
But in the points when I am,
In fact,
Not okay.
You understand my feelings before I understand them myself.
You feel them while I'm just standing on the edges of their domain.
You catch them so early that I never have to experience them.
If we continue on like this,
I'll find it hard not to fall in love with you.


Accidental Kiss:
It was while you were standing outside a police department, too caught up in conversation to see the weird glances you both were receiving. I mean, a twitching human holding nachos and a smoking dog on two legs was a rather odd sight, but you seemed to be ignorant to that. And it wasn't a big deal that melted cheese was stuck to one corner of your lips, yet it bothered him endlessly. He tried to ignore it, cutting in on your one-sided conversation before you shut him out again. His tail began flicking impatiently, and at once, he took hold of your chin, forcing your face close to his. You turned red even before his tongue swiped out and licked your cheek, but once he stepped back, you couldn't control the twitching in your neck. You laughed awkwardly, then continued the walk you had previously been on.


They Tell You That You're Attractive:
You sat beside him and stared out the window, hearing the whispers from two older people behind you. They talked about your twitching, figuring you were insane which would explain why you were "hanging out with such a creature”. You tried your best to not eavesdrop, but every venomous word that dripped from their cracked lips was burning your skin, whether you fully processed it or not. At one point, your tics became extremely erratic, and you gripped Doggo’s arm to keep from hitting your head against the window. After months of being around him, it seemed he was the only one that could comfort you without speaking. But, this time, his voice helped.
“You know you're gorgeous, right?” Your gaze flickered to him and noticed him looking back. All you could see was honesty. The elders quieted down behind you.
“Wh-what?” you sputtered, completely caught off guard. You failed to realize your body had become rigid. His eyes flickered around the space you were, searching for you.
“Just…” He looked forward again. “Just sayin’.” You smiled lightly, relaxing in the plastic seat. Your hand never left his arm, and the older couple failed to speak again.


They Get Jealous:
It was funny. No. It was hilarious. He eyed you carefully as you played with your sister’s dog at the park, and every time you threw a stick for it, you would laugh as he slightly lurched forward before settling again. His expression showed he was rather unamused by the whole situation, but then again, wasn't he always scowling? As the small, white fluff ball went to retrieve the broken branch, you noticed his unhappiness deepening, and reached a hand behind his ears. You pet him decisively until the other dog came back, and you ruffled its fur before making it fetch the stick again. Doggo growled impatiently and you snickered, shoulders ticking. He gave you a sideways glance, then huffed as you scratched the back of his head again.

Chapter Text

They Leave You / You Get Jealous:


It hadn’t been hard to see why the fish monster – otherwise known as Undyne – could be considered attractive. She was strong, confident, caring… To be honest, you were already a bit envious of her personality, but when you slipped into Alphys’s room to grab a movie, you noticed a few picture frames placed on top of a dresser. Upon closer examination, you recognized the blurry figures as your friend and Undyne, hugging as Alphys blushed her usual color. Next to the frames were a few random, littered objects – metal armor polish, waterproof cream (for scales?), and a fairly tiny spear repair kit. You weren’t stupid, feeling something drop like a rock in your chest. You sullenly wandered back to the shelf of cases, picking one without looking then moving to the living room and setting everything up. Alphys seemed to notice you were brooding, and linked her arm with yours, although she didn’t say anything. As everything played out on TV, your mood continued to darken as you kept thinking about what you had saw. Finally, you couldn’t hold it in anymore.
“Alphys,” you stated firmly, and she cowered at your stern tone, “are you in love with Undyne?”
The yellow skinned monster ceased breathing, and you were sure she was about to turn purple before she exhaled and looked at you. “N-No! We’re just friends!”
“On your dresser, why did you have gifts for her? Why didn’t you send them?”
“I…” She sighed, eyes downcast as she decided to tell the truth. “When we were underground, you know, we dated… for a little while.” You eyed her and your lips pursed, fists clenching and unclenching. “But then we came to the surface and everything changed. In some shape or form, we all went our separate ways. Including Undyne and me.”
You let out a “humph” of acknowledgment and settled back into the cushions, falling into silence. Alphys examined you in the dark for a few moments, then she leaned back against the couch, too. You felt a deep seed of guilt throughout the rest of the night.


Whenever you would sit out on the front porch with him, waiting for Toriel to drop off Frisk, you noticed his anticipation. Many monsters you had spoken with – even a few humans – mentioned the fact that he still seemed to be infatuated with his former wife, and, delving deeper into his words when he spoke to you, you knew that fact was true. You didn’t believe it was something he’d actually get over any time soon, but you hoped someday he’d enjoy your presence equally as much as he enjoyed waiting for Toriel before she came and crushed his ego, over and over again. 
“You really love her, huh?” The question slipped and you couldn’t take it back. He seemed shock you decided to speak about it.
“I… I suppose.”
“I dated this human, in like… eighth grade. Went all the way until I was a sophomore in high school. It’s the first and longest time I had been with someone. I was pretty sure I loved them, too.” There was silence as you contemplated what exactly you were trying to prove.
“What’s your point?”
“I… No, I… My point is, we haven’t talked in years, but I can still look back at the memories we made, and I realize I love them.” You reached over and patted his large hand, stroking the fur. “But I love them in the memories – not now. I love what we had, not what we have.”
He was quiet and his eyes glassed over as your words sunk in. “That…”
“You don’t have to say anything. It’s just something to think about. I don’t want you fawning for someone who is… history. You’ve got more people to see if you just stop looking down.” You didn’t know if he realized the true meaning behind your words, and slightly hoped he didn’t.


It was amazing how well he and your aunt got along – almost to the point of where it was your turn to consult one of the deadly sins. And you did as the casual talking turned to playful banter. You weren’t sure why the laughing of one of your closest relatives and your best friend was annoying you, but eventually, you couldn’t control the anger rising in your throat. You stood up swiftly, making way to the kitchen, cutting past the dining table before shutting yourself in your room. You slid down the door, keeping any intruders out by placing your full weight on it. You covered your face with your hands, shoulders shuddering as you cried tears of frustration, fingertips tingling. Running the digits through your hair, you pulled lightly at the strands before starting at your hairline and repeating. There was a knock at the wooden panels behind you, and you flinched, that irritation scratching at your chest again. You felt like you had experienced this before.
“Hey, (Y/N). You alright in there?” It was Asriel’s voice, yet, although it usually brought comfort, now it carried antagonism. You hated yourself for bearing that impression.
“I’m fine!” you replied in a cheery voice. It sounded so fake and unlike you, but it was all you could manage.
“Your Aunt Julia just left. She told me to tell you goodbye.”
“Thanks. You can go back to the hill now, Asriel. I’m too tired to watch the sunset today.”
There was silence and you thought he had left until you heard his shifting feet on the floorboards. There was a creak on the door’s hinges as he leaned against it. “Are you sure? It’s gets kinda lonely.”
“Asriel,” you hated how rough you sounded, “go.” And then the sound of his footsteps carried his presence away, leaving you feeling empty.


Bleu (Nice Cream Guy):
He hadn’t been around your apartment in days, but only on the third sunset including his absence did you decide to call him. He didn’t answer. You sat on your window sill, hands absent of any mug. You shivered against the cold glass, tears streaking your face as waves of concern and fear wrapped around your heart and suffocated it. When a familiar figure with rabbit ears appeared under a street lamp in the pouring rain, you pressed your hands against the clear surface and pounded a few times before springing up and running out of the apartment. Your bare feet smacked against the wet pavement until you launched yourself into his arms, making him lose his balance. Once he finally caught himself and stood upright, he returned the embrace, hushing you as you sobbed.
“Where were you? You never left any messages and I – I –” Your fingers dug into his back and you clung closer to him than you had ever remembered doing for anybody else. You never realized how much you took him for granted until he was gone.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you’d react this way… I was just visiting family,” he seemed unsure and upon hearing his defense, you felt awkward. You pulled away and stood in the rain, letting it soak your clothes and blend in with your tears. “Can we… Can we go inside?”
At the thought that you had gone practically crazy with loneliness when he disappeared for just a few days, you weren’t sure if it was healthy to let yourself continue seeing him on such a scheduled basis. “Do you have somewhere else to stay?” you inquired over the shower, voice high from stress.
“I have my storage unit, but you said –”
“Just sleep there tonight, okay?” You stepped back into the cold puddles on the street, and it brought you unwelcome sentiment. “I can’t look at you right now.”


BP (Burgerpants):
“Did you ever stop to think that maybe I have other friends besides you?” Those words struck deeper than intended, you were sure. He didn’t really mean it, did he? You were just as special as the next friend over, weren’t you? Breathing became harder, your oxygen only coming in with quiet, brief gasps. Your palms began sweating, forehead growing hot. You tried to make a joke out of it, but nothing came to mind.
“I’m sorry – I guess I just…” You laughed breathily, wiping your hands on your jeans as you struggled to smile. This would not be your downfall – you promised yourself you wouldn’t get hurt again. “I overreacted. I’m sorry. Really.”
“Yeah,” he agreed in an unnaturally gruff tone. Was he drunk? “Right.” Then, he rotated, twisting the knob of the restaurant’s back door. You knew it was completely childish to act the way you had when your friend failed to show up outside during two consecutive lunch breaks, but you were only human; therefore, when someone pushed you down and you scraped your knees, you bled, you hurt, and you got angry. 
“B, wait – Can we talk this out?”
“I thought we just did.” His tone was not questioning, it was final. He was drying the cement you had poured over your own grave. Maybe you shouldn’t have climbed in while still alive.
“Pl–” But he entered the kitchen and slammed the metal door behind him, leaving you with the echoing click of the latch sliding in place. “Please don’t leave me.”


You weren’t sure how they did it, but once you both made way to Asgore’s abandoned castle, they drug you down the stairs to a narrow room only full of coffins. At first, all of them seemed empty because of two particular caskets, both engraved with hearts – er, souls – although, they each had their complimentary colors. But then, Chara pressed their back against the near wall, walking behind them until they reached the second, lifting the heavy lid. Stone rubbed against stone as they moved it, then, a single, orange soul lazily floated out from it. It hung it mid-air and Chara grabbed it delicately, something you had never seen them do before. Everything they did was so rough, so uncalculated. Now, it seemed, they were thinking about every muscle they had to use as their fingers cupped the glowing heart. They began whispering to it, and you grew dumbfounded.
“Chara, what are doing?”
“Hey,” they barked, eyes shining as their head snapped to you, “shut up.” You obeyed, taking a few steps back. You watched as they one-by-one released the souls from their captivity, muttering words to them before moving on to the next. Something pulled at your chest when they stood before your color, reaching in and grasping the half soul tightly instead of letting it do as it wished. You cried as a sudden pain radiated through you, seemingly compressing you on all sides. You yelled at Chara to make it stop. Smirking, they placed a gentle kiss on the soul then let it free, watching the other half rip from your chest, abandoning you to reunite as a whole. Chara scooted to the following coffin. You cried as they continued the process, watching your soul pulse dimly as it mended back together, areas changing dark blue in the shape of a hand. You wanted to comfort it, but how can you console something that is no longer a part of you?


How did you handle fear and sadness? You drowned yourself in them. Piano music resonated throughout your lonely apartment, and a peaceful storm from Rainymood played out behind it. Your TV was off, but you stared at it anyway, hugging a blanket around your shoulders. You didn’t know what else to do – it all seemed impossible or not worth it. You were in isolation, and everything kept trying to scratch its way in, but you would continue to block it out. You lost track of time, drapes pulled over the windows to block out the rest of the world. You should’ve told someone about his disappearance, but you were scared to seem possessive. What if he was just out of town and didn’t tell you? It had only been a few days… or had it? You snapped out of your blank staring to the sound of a vibration on the coffee table’s glass. Your eyes flickered down to the mobile, and saw his contact on the screen, “Incoming Call” in bold, white letters. You let it ring, and ring, and ring. Voicemails piled up, and you smirked. Maybe ignoring him would just have to be your sick revenge. You already liked the idea, and leaned over to turn off your phone.


Your nails dug into the earth, ripping at strands of grass mercilessly as you blubbered. It had been days since you last saw your flower friend, and you were beginning to get worried. Had he gotten sick of you? Soil dirtied your skin while you cried out for him to stop hiding from you – that you were tired of this sick game. At once, you reeled back from your excavating to find your fingers bleeding, and you leaned back on your legs, crying at the setting sun. Your chest constricted, then abruptly pouted back out, your sobs hanging into the air as your eyes swelled.
“(Y/N), what’s wrong with you?” It was him.
You sat up straight, opening your watering eyes and seeing him. You chuckled through your weeping and wrapped your arms around his stem, hugging him as best as you could and not minding the pricks of his thorns. He grumbled against your shoulder and you immediately pulled away, holding your damaged hands close to you.
“Why are you crying? What’s with your hands?” He sounded so cold and unwelcoming. You could barely manage words.
“Where were you?” you bawled, frown deep as you examined him.
“I just went to the cave. And I’m kind of regretting I came back.” One of your palms flattened and raised instinctively as frustration and anger rolled and twisted inside you, but you held back the urge to hurt him. Wiping at your tears, you stood up shakily and went inside, locking the door behind you.


There was another person their age – MK, that was his name. Frisk had recently reunited with the monster, and they seemed to enjoy each other’s company. So much so, that they ignored yours. You were fine with it at first, completely understanding the urge to talk your heart out when seeing an old friend. But then you became weary, trying to fit yourself in their conversations, but together they blocked you from entering. You were sure it wasn’t on purpose, they must have just been really caught up in the topic, that’s all. Just really, really caught up. Your weariness turned into anger, biting the side of your tongue and a scowl showing on your face as the minutes ticked by. Your chair started to feel uncomfortable, and your skin was getting hot. Suddenly, everything was your enemy, but you resisted to verbally express that. Your chair’s legs screeched against the wooden floorboards as you stood up, fingers gripping the table too tight for stabilization. They both turned to you, confused, but you smiled – in the rudest, most condescending way you could manage. You found it much easier than expected, then left the dining room, pushing past Toriel in the hallway. She called out for you and asked what was wrong, but you waved her off and left the house. The front door slammed shut behind you, and you took in a deep breath of the night’s chill air. It welcomed you, and you walked the rest of the way home. 


Do you remember the day you fell off your bike and scraped your knee? Most likely, a lot of people do. But the one thing people never remember is the pain. Pain is only a constant in the present, coming and going, but when you try to recall the way it burns your skin, or sends needles into your nerves, there’s only a tingling. Close your eyes and imagine getting your toe chopped off. Horrible, right? But do you feel anything? No.
You didn’t remember what it felt like to have your soul ripped in two until he left. Flashbacks to the day you destroyed them all arose around you as you grasped at your neck, trying to scratch out the burning. At once, you were kneeling before Chara again, and you could see them taking your soul in their hands. You watched as their fingers dug into the pulsing blue, then fibers began ripping, snapping as they pulled the chunks apart. Even if you knew that your soul was not tearing again, you couldn’t stop worrying that it was. Screams erupted from your throat, gurgling as your vocal cords grew weak. You cried until there was nothing more to cry with, fingers digging into the floor and feet kicking mercilessly at nothing. The moment he appeared next to you, everything washed away. He was down on his knees, hands shaking as they hovered over your body. He seemed to overthink what he was doing as he remained frozen above your shuddering body. Everything was so cold, and you felt so numb. When he asked you what had happened, you tried to remember. You tried to explain to him the feeling, but nothing came to mind. You told him, instead, to never leave again.


You thought you were the only one getting shit for being around a monster. You weren’t. Even if it was the other way around, it seemed like a rash called Anger was spreading against your skin, leaving you desperate to make it go away. He assured you the monsters that recommended he stay away from you would change their minds. He told you that no one clung onto him for too long. But then, one night you stood outside his pub, looking in the door’s window. You had tried the knob, but it had been locked. For minutes, you pounded against the durable material, wondering why the lights were on but he wasn’t letting you in. Eventually, your arm grew tired and you settled for just standing on the stone steps. Your patience rewarded you – but with no gift at all. He appeared in the small window, and he seemingly stared at you a moment before flipping the Open sign over to Closed. You scoffed, shaking your head, telling him his joke wasn’t very funny. He abandoned the window and retreated out of your sight. You tried the knob again, but it didn’t twist all that far. That anger returned and your attempts to get it were becoming violent, the hinges on the door shrieking as you screamed at him to come back. At once, you snapped out of it and stumbled back, foot slipping off a step. You tumbled off them and landed on your back against the pavement, head mere inches from cracking on it. You let out a sob, then scrambled up and ran back to the apartment.


It was something you had nightmares about but never believed to expect. He had to leave for a month, and you understood why. He needed his ratings up, and in order to do that, he had to spread his name. But, the least he could have done was tell you ahead of time. You convinced yourself he had just been busy preparing for the trip and forgot to call you, but your self-motivation was failing as you sat at the café’s table alone. The cashiers all watched you curiously, probably wondering why the chair in front of you was suddenly absent of any flamboyant robot. You followed their interest, and surveyed the empty metal chair with disdain. Your grip tightened on the warm, plastic cup, its material rubbing against your skin as you exhaled heavily. Distracting yourself, your eyes flickered out the window, surveying all the small stands around the square, people rarely stopping by to check them. Then, a bunch of girls sporting their MTT merch made their way into your coffee shop. They ordered their things then waited at a table, giggling and whispering as they tried to make subtle gestures over to you. You knew what they were saying: “Oh look! It’s the one that thought they were something other than nothing!” You grimaced, and ignored them, trying your best to seem busy with the filtering through Facebook. You wondered if you’d ever feel like “something” again.


MK (Monster Kid):
After your father’s death, he steadily distanced himself. You couldn’t figure out why, but continued to shove down the hurt you felt every time he replied to you with monosyllabic words. He used to be so talkative, and now it seemed you were doing all the talking. But, your boat flipped over in the sea when, for two days, he never sought you out to walk with. He always found a way to meet you, yet now he was finding ways to avoid you. You let him be, keeping your distance, too. If this is what friendship was really like, at least it was nice while it lasted. Days past and you had an inkling of suspicion that it wasn’t supposed to end like this. There was a burning desire to know why he had left you in the dust, sitting in the remains of all that had once been. You stood up, confident, from your battered couch, and then it all withered. You thought of what he would say, or if you’d be able to see him at all. Like that, your motivation was gone and you sunk back into the cushions. There was no reason to get up, now.


She failed to meet you along your walk to the pastry shop, and you wondered if it was because of the previous incident. In the end, the teasing had all been in good fun, and she hadn’t shown any signs of being deeply affected by your momentary forgetfulness on the topic of her presence. The next day, you travelled alone, again. It was on the third day that you took a detour to her shop instead, but found the place closed and the door locked. Perhaps she just needed a break. The fourth day, alone. Fifth day, alone. Sixth day, alone. Seventh day, you were going crazy. You didn’t have any number to call in order to reach her, and her shop was always empty. After the week passed, you decided you were okay with being alone. But the loneliness took a hold on you, and you found no reason to leave your apartment. You told yourself it was fine. You told yourself that you were fine. And then you cried. But just a little each day. It was fine. You were fine. Everything was fine. And you were completely okay with “fine”.


Napstablook / Napstabot:
It was always Alphys. Alphys needs to do this. Alphys needs to do that. It suddenly became just her, leaving you sitting in the large chair with a book you would never read. You stared at the same page for hours until the librarian told you they were closing. They always looked relieved when you left without a peep, the whole place silent with absence of your friend. You hated it. Breaking the rules and enjoying each other was something you had taken for granted. You thought you could change him, or just boost his ego. You thought one day you would be able to have a normal conversation with him, all the “uh”s and “oh”s gone. But now, instead of his interrupters, he was gone. You still went to the library, relishing in the sentimental value, even if it stung just a bit. You wondered if at some point he would come back and you would be able to convince him to stay, forever. You scoffed at the thought. He didn’t love you. He appreciated you, sure, but he did not love you. Each day, it got a little bit easier to accept that. Each day, it steadily got better. And then you crashed back down again.


Undyne took back her words, welcoming Papyrus to come cook with her again. He was hesitant because you were “a culinary artisan”, but you told him it was fine, that he could chose whomever he pleased. And he chose her. Over and over again, he chose her. No more park visits. No more cooking lessons. No more anything. He called you with a daily report on how his skills were edging along, but then even the calls became less frequent. You missed his enthusiasm as the nights grew longer and the days colder. Your kitchen was unused, practically gathering dust. You completely avoided it. There was nothing more bitter than looking at it and realizing you could’ve said no. You could’ve told him to stay, that you needed him, and he wouldn’t have held it against you. Now, Undyne on the other hand would have had some questions, but she had no relation with you. To her, you were just another human. You caught an enthusiastic skeleton’s attention for more than five seconds, hooray! Now, it was your turn to be put in the back of his mind. Dishes piled on your coffee table, and you told yourself you would clean it up later. Then, later came and you told yourself you would clean it up even later. Then, even later came… Rinse and repeat.


The stand was empty. It was always empty now. You had pulled a chair into it, and usually sat there for hours, alone. You would stare out at the street, reflecting on the timeline in which you saw him fight until his very last moment. You wondered if something like that had happened again, or if all along he had just been some illusion to make you feel better about killing him once upon a time. Either way, you continued visiting, remaining from noon to five. If the usual costumer tried to ask for a hotdog, you would tell them you ran out. It was all excuses when they came around. “Where’s Sans?” He’s on break. “When are you getting more supplies?” Whenever is possible. “It’s quiet.” It’ll change. There was no truth with strangers. They didn’t know you and they never would. Maybe that made it easier to lie to them. Or maybe you were just doing it for yourself. 
It reminded you of him, though. When he fought you all those timelines ago, did he do it for everyone, or did he do it for himself? You knew he cared about his brother, you knew he cared about Toriel. But when they were all dead and gone, did he fight for them, or did he fight for himself? If they had meant so much to him, why did he fight at all? After so long on the repetitions of not trying, what made it all matter so much that he couldn’t give up until there was no other option? You wondered because you wanted to know. You wanted to know the secret behind not giving up. Because you were on the verge of doing it, yourself.


Teachers were busy people. They had work to grade, and then grades to keep track of. They had to make sure everyone was learning at the same pace, and then make sure they were learning enough. You understood. So, while she was busy being a teacher, you were busy being an artist. You painted a portrait of her while she was busy, and one day called her to talk about it, but she didn’t pick up. You painted a portrait of the both of you while she was busy, and one day called her to talk about it, but she didn’t pick up. You painted a portrait of you and Frisk painting a portrait while she was busy, and one day called her to talk about it, but she didn’t pick up. You strayed from anybody you knew, your sketches and plans becoming more grotesque as they filled with the visions you had of everyone’s death. You would paint the scenery, but darken it, living in the memories as your brush glided along. You painted ash lying uselessly on the ground as golden flowers sprouted around it, and one day called her to talk about it, but she didn’t pick up. You took all the paintings, and outside in the dumpster, you watched them burn. The flames grew higher, and you enjoyed the way they waved at you until distant sirens started up, and you decided it was time to leave. At least the ending had been pretty.


She never told you that she would be gone for a while. And that left you in pieces, waiting inside her house for days, claiming to neighbors that you were just house-sitting. It was funny how they all believed you so easily. Once you were seen with a person, it was like a wildfire around the neighborhood, everyone telling everyone else about the news that one of them had a new, weekly visitor. And once that weekly visitor showed up alone, there was no question about their plans. There was just a, “Hi, how are you?” And you would tell them you were fine before entering the small complex. But one day that, “Hi, how are you?” became a, “Oh, are you here to greet her?” And your casual walking turned into a full-on sprint. But the door was locked. You pounded on the wood, and the neighbors watched you curiously. For minutes, you waited, and when you finally gave up on waiting, you turned around and your label as the weekly visitor was then no longer accepted visitor. That, “Hi, how are you?” became a, “Back again?”

Chapter Text

They Make It Up To You:


“(Y/N).” Her hands prodded your sides as she tried to lightly shake you awake. You only rolled over on the couch, hugging a throw pillow against your head. You opened your eyes slightly to stare at the back of the cushions, all those feelings of jealously and anger returning to you, but only in memory. You heard her sigh, and her weight settled down by your back. She hesitantly laid a hand on your side, but it was light like she was ready to remove it if you became irritated. “I’m sorry I never told you before. I didn’t know it would be such a big deal.” You grunted in response, and she laid her head on your hip. You were both silent for a few moments, then you decided it was time to speak.
“It was my fault,” you muttered into the pillow, and she asked you to repeat yourself. “It was my fault.” You shifted your face away from the couch and looked down at her. She looked back. “Maybe I just wasn’t feeling all right in the head. I don’t know why it set me off so bad.”
“So, uh…” Her eyes flicked away from you, and her face started turning red. “Is this like… Are we good now?”
“I don’t think there was ever a moment where we weren’t ‘good’,” you laughed, and she grinned, surveying you again. You both sat up and hugged each other. As you took in her scent and felt the heat of her face against your shoulder, you swore you would never let her go.


You watched as he descended the porch’s steps, something he had never done before. He marched himself all the way to Toriel’s car, then open the back passenger door for Frisk, greeting them as they hopped out. You watched as he said nothing to his former wife, but instead waved shortly, then turned around and grabbed Frisk’s hand. He led the child back to you, where they then climbed into your lap and began to play with your hair. You smiled at them, then glanced worriedly at Asgore. He simply gave you a kind smile and returned to his wicker chair, not even blinking an eye as Toriel drove away. You stared out at the gravel drive, hiding your grimaces when Frisk pulled your hair too tight, but contemplating just how far your words had gone.
“What was their name?” His deep voice rumbled, and you peeked over at him.
“Tell him I said thank you.”
You smiled over at him, and shook your head lightly. “He doesn’t exist when you’re around.”


In the morning, you had awoken to a rather panic-inducing pounding on your front door. When you scrambled up to answer it, door swinging open, you found no one. But a flower crown made up of the familiar golden flowers atop the hill was resting at your doorstep. There was no question on who had left it, and you snatched it from the stone step, taking it inside and placing it on a bookshelf. The day went by rather slowly, but when it neared 5:30, you threw on a coat and some shoes, starting your trek up the slope. It didn’t take long to reach the top anymore, legs accustomed to the climb after a few months of doing so. Asriel sat at the top, neck arched as he played with the strands of grass, his curling horns casting shadows down his head. You quietly seated yourself beside him and looked out at the sunset as best you could.
“Hey,” he greeted you, and you replied with a similar salutation. “About yesterday…,” he started, and you knew where the conversation was going. “I’m sorry about everything that happened.
“Why?” He seemed stunned that you asked that. “There’s nothing to be sorry about.”
“But –”
“‘But’ nothing, Asriel. I’ll admit, I got a little riled up. My bad.” Your voice was harsh, yet you couldn’t find any other tone.
“(Y/N).” You looked at him sadly, and he drew you close, arms wrapping around your shoulders. You welcomed the proximity, not denying his affections as he told you how great you were. And even if you said that apologies were unacceptable, every sentence he found some way to slip one in.


Bleu (Nice Cream Guy):
There was a sense of déjà vu as you woke up on your couch to the sound of rapid, light knocking. Yawning, you straightened your hair as best you could with your fingers, then got up, feet padding lazily on the floor until you reach the door. You opened it widely, rubbing your eyes but pausing when you saw the visitor. It was Bleu, of course, but he looked like he hadn’t slept. For the first time, you were sure, a frown was placed on his lips. You tried to resist the sad look on his face, but your bottom lip began trembling and you quickly wrapped your arms around his torso. You stuffed your face in his chest as he returned the embrace, ears draping over your head. His cold nose brushed against your scalp, then he rested the side of his face against yours and began whispering to you.
“I really should have called. I know I should have.” You could hear him swallow dryly. “I just wasn’t thinking straight. I – I haven’t been since I met you.”
You nodded solemnly, understanding. After a few minutes, you slowly pulled away and lead him inside, closing the door shut behind him. You both sat at the window the rest of the day, nestled against each other as the rain continued to pour. You realized you didn’t mind being unhealthy if it meant staying with him.


BP (Burgerpants):
You didn’t care. You didn’t care about what he said. You didn’t care about what he did. You were you, and he was himself. That’s how the world rotated, but that’s not how your orbit wanted to comply. So, the next day, you wrapped yourself in warm clothing, and made your way down the usual alley. He was sitting there on his red milk crate, looking at his phone, but not scrolling through it. A pack of cigarettes lied on the ground, remains of the ones he had already smoked piling in ashes around his feet. He seemed to be on his last one, savoring it for what it was. You knew the feeling – he was at the end of the line, and now he had tied his knot and was holding on. Silently, you sat down on your blue crate, kicking away the useless rollups, then leaning against the building’s brick wall. He glanced at you, and removed the cig from his mouth, holding it between two of his fingers as smoke drifted from his nose.
“Last night,” he said. You knew he wasn’t going to apologize. Apologies wouldn’t change anything.
“Last night,” you repeated.
“I drank a little too much. I was stressed out.” You nodded, it was obvious.
“And the day before that?”
“I drank too much.”
“And the day before that?”
“I drank –”
“Too much?”
“Yeah.” He flicked the burning stick onto the ground, and crushed it under his shoe. “You make me nervous.” He stared at the collecting pile of ashes on the pavement. “I didn’t want to seem like I was scared, y’know? I didn’t want to seem weak.” You sat up, then rested against him. “It was stupid.”
“Yeah. It was.”


You woke up from your exhaustion in an unfamiliar bed. It was the usual twin size, its sheets having been pulled over you. As you sat up, they rolled into a heap in your lap, and you looked around. Everything looked so… so colorful and alive. Glancing to your right, you saw Chara on another bed, examining you. There was something different about them, you just couldn’t place it. That’s when it happened. They smiled at you. Like a genuine, normal friend, they smiled at you. It almost brought tears to your eyes as you realized this had been the person you had grown up with, the one you had fought to get back. They stood up from their bed, and wandered over to you, sitting next to your legs before moving the blanket down and tucking it beneath your feet. You stared incredulously at them, and then sobbed as they met your gaze and you noticed tears in their eyes – their eyes. No longer a glowing shade of crimson, they sparkled with emerald and you rested a hand on their cheek, making sure they were real. They smiled grimly, then pulled you into a hug, and you quickly returned it, weeping into their shoulder. You whimpered when they released you, but grew dumbfounded when they tapped your collarbone. Only a moment later, a soul was released from its captivity, sprouting out of your ribs and glowing a happy shade of artic blue. It was yours. Whole and healed, it was yours. Then, Chara tapped on their own sternum, and you watched as multi-colored heart slipped from their chest cavity. They smiled at you as you watched the rainbow of a soul pulse. Then, they both disappeared, and you launched at them for another embrace. You didn’t know what you had done to deserve whatever this was, but you wouldn’t let it go.


You were at the bus stop, fingers twitching as you tried to tap along your thigh to distract yourself with the music flowing through your earbuds. It was still made up of soft piano tiles, but they were becoming faster, lighter. They happily carried you to a state of mind where you didn’t have to boil over in your own emotions, or just sit and wait on them to pass. You were getting towards the end of a song, then, unexpectedly, a pair of arms wrapped around your waist. You squealed as the owner of those arms lifted you from your seat and spun you around, locking you in a suffocating embrace. But, you could recognize that pink tank top anywhere. After a minute of brief gasping, you pounded lightly on his chest and he released you, stepping back and scratching the back of his head awkwardly. You regained your oxygen with gulps at a time until everything was regulated and you could see straight again.
“Look, if you want to lecture or yell at me right now, I would underst–”
“Are you crazy?” He seemed shocked by your solid inquiry and searched helplessly for an answer. “You can’t just interrupt someone while they’re listening to music.” Now, he was dumbfounded.
“I…” His brows furrowed. “I’m sorry?”
“Insensitive,” you teased, sticking out your tongue at him, then plopping back down on the bench.
“Does this… mean you forgive me?”
“For interrupting my jam session? Yes.” Your expression hardened, and you watched cars drive by, splashing in the puddles. “For disappearing? Never.” He sat down next to you and wrapped an arm around your shoulders, scooting close until his warmth overtook your body’s chill in the rainy day. No one else could fill you with same cordiality.


You sat on back porch, resting on the pavement since you had failed to buy any outdoor furniture for the backyard. You watched him resting towards the back of the yard, sticking out like a sore thumb against all the shortly-cut grass. His brightly painted pot was in your lap, and you were taking a permanent mark to the rim of it, writing his name in a fine, curly print. Once finished, you placed it off to the side and let the lines dry, capping the marker and sticking it in one of your pockets as he slowly awoke. At first, he blinked slowly, then looked around quickly as if not recognizing where he was. After many nights of taking him inside, you weren’t surprised. Across your shoulder was the blanket you had re-fitted for him, and when you saw him shiver, shaking off the morning dew, a string of guilt ran through you. You tried to tell yourself he had it coming, but it didn’t make much of a difference. You grabbed the pot and ventured across the yard, foot smashing the greenery as you made your way to him, catching his attention along the way. Without saying a word, you placed down the planter in front of him, then stood up straight and waited. He didn’t question you and delved into the ground, a moment later sprouting out of the pot. You slipped the blanket off of your shoulder and wrapped it around him before carrying him inside. 
“What I said was uncalled for,” he admitted as you closed the sliding door with one hand.
“Agreed,” you replied, moving to the living room, where you placed him on the coffee table, then sat on the love seat.
You had just reach for the remote when a vine sprouted out of the soil in his pot, and wrapped gently against your wrist. You glanced at him and read the expression on his face as hurt, upset – everything in between. “I’m sorry,” he apologized, and you nodded. You didn’t know when you’d be able to forgive him.


There was a light knock on your door as you filed through papers of recent reports from the JL. You laid them all out and skimmed over them with a grimace before standing up and answering the visitor. Unsurprisingly, it was Frisk, dressed in their usual stripes and denim shorts, colorful bandages arranged around their reddening knees and dainty fingers. You sighed, smiling softly at them.
“It wasn’t right,” they said, and your smile fell to a frown.
“Frisk, you don’t have to talk, I –”
“I invited you over, and then ignored your company.”
“Is Toriel making you do this?”
“No.” Their head titled to the left, hair shifting with it, and falling close to their eyes. “Why?”
“They don’t seem like your words.” Frisk went silent, plucking at a seam on their shirt as their eyes travelled down.
“I’ve never had to say sorry before.” Their eyes shined as they looked up to you again. “I never could. No one would’ve understood.” The bridge of your nose creased as pity filled up your heart. Taking a deep breath, you beckoned them, then held them close in the door frame. The sun shined in your eyes as you buried your face in their neck. 
“I forgive you.” And over and over, you would.


“Alphys told me that humans like flowers,” you spun around in your chair to see him standing in the bedroom door, holding a small pot of blue orchids. You rolled your eyes and sunk into the plastic and padding of your seat, hugging your knees to your chest. His boots clunked against the hardwood floor as he neared you, then placed the plant off to the side of your desk. “Also, I…” He removed a folded, shiny paper from the breast pocket in his coat, running his skeletal fingers along it. “She recommend I participate in something she called a ‘selfie’, saying it would serve as proof that I communicated with my… sons.” Your eyes lit up at the word, and you reached out for the printed picture. He handed it to you, and watched as you unfolded it carefully. For some reason or another, tears came to your eyes as you traced your fingers along all the familiar faces, resting longer on his than intended. 
“Will you see them again?” you inquired as a droplet slipped from your eye and landed on the photo paper. 
“Whenever they wish.” You nodded, smiling through the tears. Then, you placed the picture in your lap and spread your arms. He immediately leaned down and welcomed the hug, placing one hand on the back of your head as he brushed out your hair, whispering to you the words of a lovestruck poet. 


To Kill a Mockingbird was praised for its capability to blatantly point out the worst in people, but in such subtle ways. It introduced hypocrisy and greed, showing how some said everyone was made equal, and the helpless needed help while they also sat back and judged others, excluding them just for their race. It made you sick. 
There was a sense of dread as you had to stand on the street and realize you had no one because the new age of hypocrisy and greed had arose, though this time in monsters and humans. Although it was not illegal that they interact with each other, to some it seemed very much that way. Your phone still rang off the hook with message and voicemails from supposed relatives that wanted you to “keep a fair distance away from the creatures”. You could have told them you had been abandoned by the only one you had truly favored, but as far as you were concerned, they were no longer family, and you did not want them to think they had won in convincing you. You were so caught up in just the thought that some could mistake him leaving as you pushing him away, you couldn’t remain alone. And you needed him. You realized that on the nights you would knock on your bedroom wall and wait for him to answer, waiting so long that rarely did you get any sleep. The hollowness of your thump on the barrier between the both of you was always haunting, and it followed you on your lonely walk to his bar. You raised your fist and pounded heavily on the door, relieved when he appeared a moment later and opened it. You both stared at each other momentarily, then he caught you as you began crying, grasping onto his vest tightly. Weakly, you punched his chest repeatedly, wailing about how unfair he was acting, and how unfair the world was. He clutched you securely until you calmed, humming a song he was sure you remembered. And somehow, someway, he managed to smile as you quieted. 


“Darling~!” A certain feeling rushed over you as you heard the familiar voice echo in the room, but as you looked up, you concluded that it had only come from the TV that the café had recently installed. You didn’t mind really, but it was always on the same channel. His. Now playing was some drama that had a keen resemblance to a Spanish soap opera. You found it rather ridiculous, and settled for scrolling through some social media apps. But it happened again. The same feminine pitch and enthusiasm as he called with a purr, “Darling~!” You hummed, annoyed, beneath your breath until it caught in your throat as arms wrapped around you. Your phone clattered to the table when you were lifted in the air, back pressed against someone’s chest. Judging by the cold and solidness of it, you could guess who it was, and started crying, wriggling in his grasp. At your struggling, he let you go, and you caught a confused look on his face as you turned around and forced him into a hug. He pet your hair softly while you wept against his chest.
“Screw you,” you muttered into the metal. “Screw you. A thousand times over, screw you. Screw you for… for making me…” The last part of your sentence got caught in your throat, and he never urged you to continue. You breathed shakily, shivering as he held you in his arms, beginning to whisper sweet nothings into your ear.


MK (Monster Kid):
“Who do you think you are?” After days of no word from MK, you had fallen into a state of depression, caught between moping and taking drastic measures to make sure you were still you, and you were still human. Those drastic measures included fighting. Anywhere you could, you saw those JL members on the street, and you would spit at their feet, only grinning when they raised their fists. They all ended in welts and bleeding, but you told yourself it was all for a good cause. So one by one, you ticked off your fingers while they lied on the ground, pride hurt and ego crushed as they nursed their wounds before standing up and absconding. But this time they had a victim, and as you saw who that victim was, your heart sunk. Time seemed to slow as he looked up at you, eyes fearful as they had once been on the first day you met him. Your stomach twisted when he gave you that familiar smile, trying to wish all the pain away. Some people think if they pretend they’re happy, you’ll forget they’re hurt. You’ll forget that at some point or another, you could catch a glimpse of sorrow in their expression. But as his scratches bled and his yellow skin reddened and purple, there was no forgetting. There was no forgiving. 
You made sure he could stand, then rushed him to the nearest hospital, watching as they wheeled him away for stitches and X-Rays. As you stood in the waiting room, dirtied and bloody, the one thing that did slip from your mind was the cold shoulder he had given you days previous. Your mind was filled with the thought that if you ever saw a JL member again, oh ho. Endlessly, they would suffer, and all because of you.


Tick tock. The clock on the wall seemed to be the only thing interesting these days. Your finger tapped in its rhythm as everyone scuffled around you. It was the one morning you had left your apartment to visit the usual café. It still held that same emptiness when you sat at a table alone, elevator music drifting in the background, but you paid no mind to it. Your thoughts were only fixed on that repetitious tick of the seconds passing by. Yet, the order fell as something dressed in a beautiful shade of purple obscured your unfocused view. You blinked once, twice, making sure she wasn’t an illusion. Your fingers paused, resting against the granite table as a smile instantly spread across your face. In reply, she smiled back. And that’s when it hit you, all at once. Every single moment that you had spent alone, waiting for her until you could wait no more. All the loneliness and lack of motivation. All the nights spent crying and mornings spent grieving, when all along she was there. Not there, but somewhere, somewhere without you. She had excluded you from her life without a word, and now you were smiling at her. You needed to stop, but you couldn’t. Overwhelmed with emotions that tears resembling pain slipped from your eyes, but you had begun laughing. Over and over, you laughed as she tucked you in her arms. But your cackling was overcome by sobs, a horrible sound leaving your mouth as you wheezed. People started looking, but you had learned that they didn’t matter. They wouldn’t remember you. Not for long. Your nails dug into her back as you locked her in place, not wanting to let go. You never questioned where she had gone, and you never decided to forgive her either. What she had done was unforgivable, she understood that, and so did you. But, somehow, you worked around it as you cried into her shoulder.


Napstablook / Napstabot:
It’s been a week of recovering. A week since the last time you thought of him and realized he’d probably never come back. A week since the silence bothered you and the books were boring. Now, you just read, indulging in the world that the pages held to escape the one you rarely enjoyed anymore. You felt like someday, maybe you’d get over it. Someday, maybe you wouldn’t have to count how many hours since the last incident. It’s been 170 hours now. 
“H-Hey, uh…” It’s been 0 hours now. “Am I interrupting you?” In one hand, he held his laptop, headphones wrapped around his neck. You couldn’t breathe anymore. “(Y/N)?”
“You can sit if you want,” you voice lacked any enthusiasm, and you scooted to the far side of the chair, leaving a large amount of space for him. He refused to move.
“I’ve upset you, haven’t I?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He surveyed you as you spoke, setting down his laptop on a near, glass table. Soon after, he removed his headphones and set them beside it. He seemed to contemplate what he was doing, and he shifted uncomfortably before spreading his arms, welcoming you. It almost seemed like he was naked in front of you, a bright blush covering his face as he waited for you to fall into his arms. You examined him thoroughly, noticing the newly installed container in his waist, a teal heart floating in the middle of it, and how his eyes glowed a little less brightly. He managed to make a gulping sound as your eyes wandered him. Then, you slowly stood up, wandering towards him. You rested your forehead against his, placing your hands on his neck. His dim pupils flickered from one of your eyes to the other, unsure. You smiled, then lifted yourself up on your toes and placed your lips against the start of his hairline. Pulling back, you noticed his grin, and you returned it with one of your own, hugging him tightly.


“HUMAN!” You screeched as you sat up in bed, startled awake by the sound of a booming voice. Blinking rapidly, you tried to locate it, surprised to see a familiar skeleton peeking in through your bedroom’s doorway. “I HAVE RETURNED!” Your panic reduced down to nothing as you were overcome with a wave of sadness. He seemed to have noticed your sudden melancholy aura because he ducked down to get past your door frame, then stepped inside the room. He tried his usual act of whispering, and it brought a cheerless smile on your face from the memories. “I’m sorry. Did I interrupt a good dream?”
“What are you doing?” you mumbled to him, hands shaking. You tried to hide it underneath your blankets.
His voice returned to the regular volume. “I HAVE JUST COME TO SEE YOU! IT HAS BEEN QUITE A WHILE!”
“No joke,” you scoffed, looking down at your lap.
“LET ME GUESS.” Your eyes returned to him as he knelt at your bedside. “THE LACK OF MY PRESENCE HAS SEVERELY AFFECTED YOU!” You refused to nod your head. “THERE, THERE, HUMAN. I UNDERSTAND HOW BORING THINGS CAN GET WITHOUT ME.”
He swooped you into a hug, and you lived in the moment, enjoying the familiar feeling of being crushed against his rib cage. You’d never tell him how hurt you had really gotten, for he wouldn’t be able to understand. Out of everything, he’s never experienced loss. He never remembers enough to feel the effects of it.


“Hey, kid.”
“The fact that you’re calling me that makes me sick.”
“Ouch. Right in the rib cage.”
“I hope it –” You stopped yourself, swallowing down the words as you looked up at him, watching him lean against the counter.
“You hope it what?”
“Don’t test me right now, Sans,” you snapped at him, anger twisting in your gut.
“You’re acting –”
“Stop,” you interrupted, slamming a hand against the wood as you stood up inside the booth. “You can’t just come back here and act like nothing happened. You don’t have the right to keep playing out all your jokes like this is some circus, you fucking insensitive bastard.” His eye sockets widened at your words, and you knew you had struck a cord. “I thought you were dead. But every day, I came back here hoping at some point I’d be able to see you again, and you’d be all aboard the apology train.” A tear slipped from your eye, but you ignored it. “Now I see this is all some fucking game to you. It always has been, hasn’t it?”
“Don’t ‘(Y/N)’ me! Where the fuck did you even go that was so god damn important?”
He was silenced, eyes switching between looking left and right as the lines beneath his sockets deepened. You recognized the look. The same one he had given you in the past timeline. He felt guilty. He never meant to hurt you.
You collapsed back into your chair, arms latent on the counter top. “Don’t even tell me.” You closed your eyes as you rested your head in your limbs. “I don’t want to know anymore.”
You were both silent until he went around the back of the stand, and sat on the ground next to you. When you glanced down at him through one open eye, you saw a blue-tinted tears slip from his sockets. You leaned one hand down to wipe them away. He caught your hand before you could reel it back, and held it for a moment, thinking. 
“Do you believe people can change?” he asked somberly.
“Yeah. I do.”


You stood at the door, patient and waiting. Slung over your shoulder was a bag of cheap art supplies you had gathered for Frisk’s art lessons, but now that a week had passed with no word from Toriel, you began to question if they were still scheduled. You clung to the distant hope that they were. A bright smile appeared on the monster woman’s face as she opened the door and saw you standing there.
“(Y/N)!” she welcomed you happily. “I apologize about not answering your calls. I’ve been so busy lately.”
“Yeah,” you tried to laugh, but it came out sounding forced, “me too.” You could tell she had already grown worried, eyes carefully surveying you. 
“Are you alright? You seem troubled.”
“Can I come inside?” you asked, avoiding her own question. She invited you inside without a word, gesturing to the living room.
“I forgot to call and let you know that Frisk wouldn’t be present today. They’re currently add a friend’s house,” she explained to you, following you to the couch. You both sunk into it, and you set your bag aside.
“Ah, that’s…” Words were hard to find. “… that’s fine!” You were trying too hard, and she could see straight through your act.
She rested a hand on your knee. “(Y/N), do you need to talk?” You shook your head side-to-side, attempting to hide the frown spreading on your lips. She accepted your silence, but pulled you into a hug. Instantly, you began quietly crying. Your tears soaked a spot in her dress, and she rubbed comforting circles into your back. 
“I missed you,” you admitted sullenly. “Way too much for a normal person. But I missed you…”
She laughed softly against your ear, and nodded. “I missed you too, dear.”


“Back again?”
You glared at the neighbor, quickly giving them a taste of your middle finger before following the sidewalk to Undyne’s house. Once at the door, you didn’t knock, but you pulled out your phone and called her. You were shocked when her voice sounded through the line.
“I’m at your door,” you told her, then hung up, sliding the mobile back in your pocket. Only a moment later, you could hear heavy footsteps echoing on the other side of the door. You heard a lock click out of place, then the door slowly opened, Undyne’s face peeking out from the crack. “Can we talk?” you asked, and she seemed hesitant to comply. But eventually, she did, opening the door further before disappearing inside. Everything she was doing, from the hesitance to the silence, seemed so unlike her. You knew something was up. Entering the house, you shut and locked the entrance behind you, then ventured forth into her living room, seeing that she had taken up a roost on the couch. When you walked around it to sit next to her, you stopped mid-way, surveying the bandages wrapped around her arms. She stared at the floor as concern overcame you.
“U-Undyne..?” She didn’t lift her head. “Undyne, what happened?” 
“It’s nothing,” she responded gruffly.
“Undyne, look at me.” She did with the one eye she had, hair falling into her face. You knelt down in front of her and brushed it away. “What happened?”
“Fucking JL members. Outnumbered me.” She laughed humorlessly. “Think they’re tough, but they can’t do shit when one’s by themselves.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” As her eyes left you, you understood. She didn’t want you worrying. She didn’t want you to think she was vulnerable. You sighed, then laughed breathily, grasping her hands. “Undyne, I…” You could have said it, then and there. But you didn’t. It wasn’t time.
She pulled you into a hug, and you easily accepted it, letting her know that you didn’t care if she got scrapes and bruises, just like everyone else.

Chapter Text

Dating Start!:


Victorious by Panic! At the Disco was a real confidence booster, and as you popped your knuckles, standing up from the couch, all you could think about was dancing. You wandered over to her chair and quickly spun it around, grasping her hands and pulling her from her seat. She squeaked as you heaved her into your arms, intertwining your fingers with hers as you began swinging around. Her face was turning fifty shades of pink and red as you lead her around the living room in a stumbling waltz. You were laughing as she smiled awkwardly, feet stomping against the hardwood as you let loose and got everything out through hip swaying and spinning. Your twirled her in a circle, giggling as the song ended. When the room fell in silence, then was filled with the sound of a cover on Blank Space by The Eden Project, you turned your hasty, rowdy dancing into a slower-paced rocking. She stared up at you with a genuine smile on her face, and you smiled back, enjoying the sparkle in her eye from the fairy lights that hung up on the wall. Inhaling and exhaling peacefully, you watched every motion she made intently; every little thing she did felt important. You only chuckled as her foot stepped onto yours accidentally, and with one hand she covered her face, trying to hide the embarrassment. Slowly, you removed that hand, stopping the dance. She looked unsure, glancing warily at you. You couldn't help the grin on your face.
“Alphy,” you cooed, examining her face. “Would you ever… consider dating an idiot like me?”
Her eyes widened and she went rigid until she smiled wider than you ever remembered. “YES!” She cleared her throat. “Eheh, I mean - uh, y-yes.”
“So it's settled, then?”
She gave you an expression you couldn't quite read, then answered you in words. “A hundred times, yes.”


It was the one night you were visiting his home after having another bad dream. Never in your life had you thought crying over something made up by your own imagination was possible. But as you made the short walk to his front door, tears created their silent paths down your face. Once he had brought you inside and sensed you were comfortable on the couch, he asked you what had happened. When you told him you had had a bad dream, he inquired about its details. Every time you tried to speak, you found yourself too upset, not wanting to cry any further. He watched as you struggled internally, and decided to comfort you instead by rubbing your back. He placed his other hand on your knee, looking away as to keep from embarrassing you. You appreciated it.
At once, he seemed to remember something and excused himself hastily, rushing out the back door. You only waited patiently as his absence filled the room. The lack of his weight next to you was making you feel balanced - and, oddly, you didn't like the feeling. He returned a few moments later, clothes a bit dirtied as he hid something behind his back. When he came nearer to you, you wiped away your tears then brushed off his shirt half-heartedly. He smiled at the attempt, then brought a small bouquet of carnations he had been keeping from your vision. A pair of your fingers lifted to brush across the petals, wondering silently what color they were. And then, the wonders stopped as you realized you didn't know the true look of any colors. It was saddening, but when you realized he had just plucked them from the garden to console you, you grinned.
“I was saving these for a time that felt right,” he explained, contemplating something as he stared at the flowers, himself.
“And now seemed… perfect?” His eyes flickered to you and he smiled kindly. You recognized the look. It was one of acceptance - of love.
“Quite so. Yes.” He kneeled in front of you, placing the stems in your palms then overlapping his hands with yours. “I was pondering the act of…” He chuckled beneagh his breath. “... Of asking you to take part in a relationship with me.”
You were quiet, and then your lips stretched farther upwards. “You want me to date you?”
“I-I mean, in simpler terms - yes…”
You snorted, then pulled him into a hug, nuzzling into his shoulder. “I can agree to that~”


“So, (Y/N)...”
“Wanna date?”
You laughed, shaking the question off. “Very funny.”
There was silence after that, and you laid your head in your hands, looking up at the bit of blue sky that was transitioning into a beautiful shade of indigo. At times like those, you wished your eyes were cameras, capturing the moment so you could relive it over and over again. For a moment you thought that's why you kept coming back to the top of the hill, but glancing at Asriel, you realized it wasn't.
His fur was tinted a blazing orange from the setting sun, the pastel tones of his outfit seeming rather unsaturated compared to the rest of his body. Your fingers danced along the grassy ground until they brushed against his hand. You latched yours onto his, then continued staring up into the atmosphere.
“Would you ever say yes if I meant it?”
You were going to ask what he was referring to, but you already knew. You remained closed-mouth as you thought about it. “Yeah,” you replied at last.
“I would say yes.”
“Yes, Asriel?”
He turned his head to you, and you met his gaze. He was smiling at you, and you enjoyed the wonderful colors that shined against him. It was a scene you would never forget. “Will you date me?”
You grinned and released his hand in order to poke his nose. “I thought I already answered that question.”


Bleu (Nice Cream Guy):
You had changed up the usual hot chocolate for coffee when you woke up dreary from the previous night’s experiences. Who knew watching horror movies on Netflix would make the time pass by so quickly? You remembered, for the last hour before you unwantedly slipped into unconsciousness that he had spoken to you softly, comforting you away from the paranoia. It was faint, but you could still hear his final whisper of, “Be mine so I can do this forever,” as your eyes shut. Perhaps it was just a dream. You didn't know how to handle it if it had actually been uttered from his lips.
He still slept peacfully on the couch, or so you thought until a pair of arms wrapped around your neck, chin resting in your scalp. You smiled against the glass of your mug, taking a sip as he moved to sit down next to you. Moments of peaceful, sleepy silence passed before you decided to approach the subject of what he may or may not have said.
“Hey,” you called softly, “last night…”
He examined your facial features, trying to decipher what you were hinting at before you finished talking. “You had fun, right?”
You smiled at him, and nodded quickly, holding the mug against your chest. “Yeah, of course! But, did you say something to me when I started falling asleep?”
You didn't miss the shocked expression, nor the ever present blush on his cheeks. “U-Uh - I’m sorry for that! It just kind of slipped out! I don't know -”
You interrupted him with a wide grin. “I wouldn't mind, y’know.”
He blinked absently, then pulled you into a suffocating side-embrace. You giggled as he chuckled against your neck, thanking you. You never understood what he was thanking you for.


BP (Burgerpants):
“Who’s that?”
“And that?”
You snorted, leaning your head against his shoulder as he showed you pictures of his so-called enemies through Instagram. You honestly wouldn't mind having hair like Catty’s… 
“What are you laughing at?” His eyebrows were furrowed, and you noticed lately, all his cigarettes had disappeared. You loved that cute little expression he got when he was confused, but you would never tell him that.
“They just… look like super stereotypical teenagers.” You nudged your elbow between his ribs and enjoyed the small squeak and grumble that sounded in his throat. “I can't believe you tried to get some of that.”
His lips practically shrunk into his head, his eyes soon following as his pupils turned into just fine slits. “Are you saying they’re out my league?” Under his breath, you heard him whisper, “- Because they totally are.”
You twisted on your carton then laid across his lap, head hanging off the side of his legs as you looked down the reversed alleyway. “Dunno. Maybe I am.” You folded your arms over your chest, then lifted your head to catch his gaze. “Maybe I'm just saying that so I have a better chance.” His eyes flickered across your face, not understanding. “I like you, dipshit. I wouldn't mind dating you, unlike those two.”
It seemed time slowed down for him, and you returned to your hanging upside down as he processed the situation. When he began laughing, you knew he finally got it. “Oh..! Oh, for a moment there I thought you were joking.”
“Is that a yes or a no?”
“Yes~” It was the first time you had heard him purr his words.


You never realize how much you miss something until it's gone. The city with its lights, honking horns, cranky people, and 24 hour alertness was not something you thought you had taken for granted, but after a few nights in the underground, you became homesick. Chara handled it, and you felt like you were in a dream as they lead you down the mountain and back to the endless, towering buildings. Their new personality change never ceased to amaze you, and you held them close as you brought them back to your old apartment. There were payment notices slipped under the door, awaiting at the step inside, but you ignored it as you let Chara roam free in their new home. Shutting the door quietly and turning the lock, you swiveled around to see them staring at you, face lit up by the moonlight shining from an open window.
“Is it wrong to think this could be the start of something?” the inquired softly, smiling as they neared you in steady steps.
“What do you mean?” You watched as they grasped your hands, brushing their thumbs across your knuckles.
“Us,” they whispered, green eyes flickering up to yours. “Couldn't this be the start of ‘us’?”
They didn't have to ask you twice, a grin on your face. “Yeah. It could. And it will be.”


“Is it considered odd to the dog population to not marry your sibling?” The question was random and uncalled for, but after spending a few minutes listening to Dogamy and Dogaressa in Grillby’s, you couldn't help but wonder.
Doggo chuckled, lying on his stomach and digging his face in the grass. “No, it's just normal to consider marrying a sister or brother.”
“Would you?”
His browline creased, and you felt like you had struck a nerve. “No. Not when I have someone else in mind.”
His answer was elusive and there was a desire to know its hidden messages. “And who happens to be that ‘someone else’?”
Your neck twitched as he replied firmly, not expecting that he would give you such a straight answer. You couldn't stop your fingers from tapping as he glanced at you, awaiting a response. “R-Really? Well… I -... I’m flattered…”
“That all?” Now he was pressing for answers. You didn't blame him.
“I certainly wouldn't hesitate to… t-to try..?”
He grinned and lifted himself from the ground, only to flop back down on the ground. He watched the birds in the sky with a peaceful expression and you nuzzled against him.


You noticed lately he had become more needy, striking out his vines to grasp your wrist when you tried to walk away, or calling for you just as you had begun to fall asleep. You didn't exactly mind it, but the reasons that happened to be missing irked you, and one night you decided to find them.
“Flowey?” you cooed softly, voice slightly muffled by your pillow. 
“What?” His voice rang out in the darkness, and saw his eyes shining from the the nightstand.
“Is there something you need to tell me?”
“No,” he spat immediately, then his petals drooped and he looked at you from under them. “... Yes.”
“Well, I'm always here to listen.” Your voice drifted as your eyes closed, figuring you wouldn't receive any further dialogue. He always surprised you.
“You make me feel.”
One of your eyes snapped back open. “What?”
“When I turned into a flower, I couldn't feel anything. Emotions were just something I had to live without.” You were trying to locate his point. “But you make me feel what I tried to bring back since the beginning.”
“What?” you breathed.
The corners of your lips twisted upwards, and you lifted your hand, feeling a vine slither around it and hold it in place. “Would I be able to continue on… helping you feel again?”
He was silent, but the way his vine squeezed your hand gave you all the words he couldn't say.


You both sat on the couch, forgetting the paperwork that needed to be finished. Frisk nuzzled into your side as some show played on the television - for as much as you were paying attention, it could've been in a different language and you wouldn't have realized. They seemed to notice your lack of focus, and waved a hand in front of you. Your eyes snapped to it, then drifted to their face, surveying their slight, playful smile. You responded with your own, leaning down and resting your forehead against theirs. They giggled quietly, then relaxed as the atmosphere settled.
“What is this?” you asked under your breath. The minute it came out, you wanted to take it right back.
They tugged on your shirt as if to ask what you meant.
“What are we, Frisk? What is all this that we're doing?”
They were silent, then leaned back, contemplating something. At once, a grin spread on their lips and their fingers curled into a heart before they pointed a finger at themselves, then you. You snorted, then pulled them back into a cuddle, breathing out slowly.
“Good answer.”


“If we share the same soul, what else do we share?” He had told you the answer to this question before, but every night you found yourself curious to see if anything had changed. He sat on the edge of your bed, examining the ground as you awaited a response.
“Nothing.” You always pondered upon that, and tonight he seemed willing to explain further. “Although, I can feel your emotions, I cannot claim them as my own. I can hear your thoughts and see your dreams as I please.” Your eyebrows furrowed and you went to protest before he smiled, white pupils locking on you. “But, I rarely do.”
Relief washed over you, and you settled back into the sheets.
“Although I have heard enough to know that you have been considering a relationship with me.” The relief was gone. “I have my doubts about it - but everything has been going smoothly thus far.” You remained silent, afraid all that would come out would be a squeak. “And I must say, I wouldn't mind trying. With you.”
You grinned, then ducked underneath the covers, hearing his chuckles. His fingers ran along your covered thigh before he stood up and moved back to the desk chair. He would remain there until you fell asleep.


Your fingers danced along the polished bar as he cleaned a few glasses, arranging and moving them as he pleased before he closed up. Quietly, you sung “i hate u, i love u” by gnash, entertaining yourself as he finished his work. You must have repeated the song a few times before his warm hand clasped over your own, ceasing its tapping activities. Your words faltered and you glanced up at him, smiling kindly. He did his usual, white grin thing, then released your hand and walked around the bar. You caught up with him as he headed for the front door, slipping his keys from his vest pocket. Although, he hesitated, and your eyes glanced over him quickly.
“Are you alright?” you inquired softly, and he twisted in place to face you. You could barely process the situation as he heaved you into an embrace, holding you far longer than normal. Your nose brushed against his neck, hands tucked against chest as his own traversed your back. You were sure you knew what this meant, but couldn't be sure. “This isn't something friends do,” you muttered against his flames and his hands paused.
“I know,” his voice rumbled, and he held you flush against him until heat became uncomfortable, a bead of sweat trailing down your neck. Even then, you walked home holding his hand.


Your apartment was practically spotless thanks to the help of Mettaton, and even a few new furniture pieces were strewn about. Now, you both rested on the couch, your legs over his lap as he kept one arm around your shoulders. It was quiet and peaceful, much unlike the time spent moving everything in and pushing the rest into garbage bags as music boomed from a pair of speakers. When you pressed your ear against his chest, you could hear gears turning, fans whirring, and the light hum of electricity. You never thought something mechanical could sound so calming. One of his hands brushed through your hair, the other draping across your legs as you had practically scooted your way onto his.
“(Y/N)?” The way he used your name always seemed thoughtful, like he was questioning if you were actually there.
“Hm?” you replied mindlessly, tracing the crevices in one of his arms.
“I know I'm all glitz and glamor, but do you think you could handle my perfection so we can have something like this more often?”
You were dumbfounded. “What?”
“Will you date me, (Y/N)?” He laughed through his words, enjoying the confused look on your face. “That's all I’m asking.”
“M-Me?” you asked, and he nodded. Your words slipped away from you and you struggled to bring them back. “Y-Yeah! Yeah, I will!” 
He again chuckled at your excitement and hugged you close, placing a kiss on your nose and narrowly avoiding your questions about what his lips were made of.


MK (Monster Kid):
You clutched onto his sweater as you both strolled along the sidewalk, enjoying the peaceful weather after days of snow. Everything had finally settled, leaving puddles but bringing sunshine. It was the perfect day for couples to unite, and as so, you spotted many of them on the benches you passed occasionally, enjoying each other’s presences. You would never admit you were envious of them, and instead pulled MK closer to you as you walked. He seemed to notice your clinginess.
“Yo, you alright?” He glanced at you from the corner of his eyes, a frown curving his lips. You shrugged, and that’s when he understood. You never spoke when something was bothering you. As he surveyed the park you had been looping around, it all came to him at once. “It’s the couples, isn’t it?” You shook your head in denial, but a grin came upon his face when he noticed the blush growing on your face. By the way he was looking at you, you knew there was no way you could dig yourself out of the hole you fell into.
“Don’t you ever want something like that?” you asked, avoiding his gaze.
He was quiet, then surprised you with a truthful answer. “Most of the time I’m with you.”
“What?” Your voice cracked as you stopped the meandering. He continued forward a bit until he spun around to face you.
“I always want something like that, but with you.” He shrugged his statement off like it was a thing he said every day.
Your lips parted, but words failed to follow, tongue dry and heavy. You cleared your throat, then readjusted your jacket while standing up straight. You grinned. “I wouldn’t mind changing ‘want’ into ‘have’.” He laughed, then you both continued walking together, discussing all that you could do in the future.


The top hit songs blasted through a set of outside speakers, but it was only background noise as you held a pair of her hands in yours, surveying her newly painted nails. It was your work, and you were rather proud about how the chrome shade of purple and white cobweb designs came out, but you refused to let her use them until you were absolutely positive they were dry. It didn’t inconvenience her any. You grumbled at her every time she flexed her fingers, teasing you. Eventually, you slipped your hands away from hers and sat back in your chair, reaching for your coffee cup that had been abandoned since the polish began drying. When you began lifting it to your mouth, one of her hands wrapped around your wrist, and you noticed the hurt look on her face.
“Why did you let go?” she asked, her voice small like a child’s. She sounded so betrayed.
You lowered your cup a bit. “I was just holding them in place so you wouldn’t ruin the job. Your nails are dry now, so I don’t have to worry about it.”
Her eyes surveyed your face, a frown creasing her cheeks. “I thought you just decided you wanted to hold my hands.” She chuckled lightly, but you could sense the insecurity she held. Knowing now, you set down your coffee, and stretched your arms out for her. You enjoyed the smile that appeared on her face as she came into contact with you again, her fingers soft and tickling the flesh of your wrists.
“You know, if you just admitted you liked me, we wouldn’t have to worry about letting go,” you asserted casually, looking off at the street. Her fingers tightened around you, and a smirk played on your lips.
“Is this a confession I’m hearing?” Her usual act of purring every sentence came back, exposing her renewed disposition. Your eyes flickered to her, and you tilted your head slightly.
“It is if you want it to be.” There was no further conversation about the topic needed.


Napstablook / Napstabot:
“I talked to Mettaton, a day ago…” Anything that included his robot cousin meant bad news. It seemed he was always pressuring Napstablook to try new things, although the shy android asked about your opinion before actually trying whatever happened to be mentioned. You were flattered that he consulted you when in doubt, but you hated telling him no; thus, leaving you with the only choice of accompanying him in the adventures, taking the brute force of whatever it was while continually assuring him that everything was fine. Today, you were sure it would be no different. “He told me that in order to boost my ego, I should… I should, uh…” You should’ve been able to see that coming. “I should try dating.”
Your mouth immediately hung open, and a whole bubbling upsurge of anger boiled over in your gut. You were wondering how his cousin could recommend such a thing – and for an ego boost, nonetheless! Every curse word you had ever learned was about to flood from your vocal cords, but the next thing your ghostly companion said made it all dissipate.
“And I figured I should date someone I knew pretty well, so… Can you – I mean – Would you date me?”
You surveyed his face, quiet peeps the only thing that sounded as a response from you. Taking in a deep breath through your nose, you then dived in for a hug, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Of course, you dork! You didn’t even have to ask!”
From a distant corner of the building, the librarian loudly shushed you both, and you laughed in reply.


“Allow me to explain to you some complex feelings,” he was trying to do his quiet voice again, which always signaled a complete outburst. You sat on the couch, watching the TV as you waited for him to start yelling again. It was only a matter of time. “Feelings that include finding another spaghetti lover, and someone you can laugh with.” Now, you were generally interested in what he was saying, but pretended to not pay attention. “Surely, these must be the feelings you are feeling – RIGHT NOW!” You winced, but quickly recovered, head turning in his direction. The corners of his mouth were curved up, and you had long ago decided not to question it.
“What?” you asked, playing off the fact that you may have been ignoring him.
“Human,” his voice grumbled, and you felt uncomfortable at the sudden deepness of it, squirming in your seat as he leaned closer. His eye sockets narrowed, and you could feel his breath on your face. How was he –? Nevermind. “I have known of your feelings long before you cared to admit them, and now I have decided to keep you waiting no longer.” His gloved hands grasped the sides of your face, and his expression lightened again, the same childish countenance gracing his skeletal features. “I AM ALSO FEELING THOSE FEELINGS!”
You tried to process the situation, connecting the dots on what his true intentions were. It took you a few moments, then a grin came upon your face and you gripped his hands happily. “You – you want to date me?”
“Don’t tell any of my internet fans,” he said, eyes shifting side-to-side, to which you only laughed, pulling him in a hug.


“Hey, kid.”
“Would you prefer toots?”
“That’s even worse.”
“How about girlfriend?”
“Sans, wou– wait, what?”
You shifted on the counter, hand resting on the wooden to support yourself. A rush of adrenaline came over you, and you felt the temperature of your body grow increasingly hot, although your face felt flushed. Every nerve in your body left you feeling jittery.
“You heard me,” he stated simply, resting his skull against his palm – or what could be considered a palm. “I said, ‘would you prefer girlfriend?’”
You blinked absently, surveying his expression. With that grin, you could never be sure what he said was serious or just another joke. By the way he tensed, his joints rigid and still, you knew his aims were solid. Your lips parted, then rejoined, breathing erratic as you tried to calm yourself down. “Yes,” you replied at once. “Yes, I would very much prefer that.”
“Cool.” His sockets began closing, and although you usually wondered how that was possible, your thoughts were too scattered to do anything except relax against one of the booth’s support beams, an idiotic grin on your face. “So, wanna bone?”
“I will end you, I swear.”


“(Y/N)? May I have your help for a moment?” Toriel called from the kitchen and you instantly responded by abandoning the TV remote and hurriedly sliding along the tiles. Frisk watched you, amused, from the couch.
“Yeah, what’s going – Tori?” She was nowhere to be seen, and your feet lead you in a full circle to make sure she wasn’t off in a corner. Your eyebrows furrowed as you found no sign of life in the pantry, lips pursing.
“Oh, sorry! We must have looked for each other at the same time.” Her voice sounded from behind you, and you quickly spun around to find the entrance, seeing a kind smile on her face. Her eyes were glimmering, and you knew she had planned something. 
“What’s going on?”
“Frisk needs your help with a small project, do you mind?”
Your thoughts became muddled. “But I was just –”
“Thank you, dear!” She grasped on of your hands and pulled you back to the living room, where you came to find Frisk sitting in the middle of the floor, holding up a piece of paper.
Tears came to your eyes at what it said: “You should be my other parent.” You glanced at Toriel, and she moved her hand to your shoulder, pulling you against her side.
“Yes times infinity,” you established, laughing through a few hiccups, as you returned the side-hug.


She was insistent on making you battle her just so she could find your limits and endurance. You, yourself, were not very keen on the idea, but after days of her pestering, you finally caved. Now, you were in her backyard, sweating grossly coating your skin as you breathed heavily under the summer sun. Her spear had dissipated, and your half-soul was pulsing rapidly. She had long given up on fighting you, as you never dared to actually make a move to hurt her, instead dodging all the attacks.
“You really are a loser,” she huffed, slumping onto the grass, defeated.
“At least I’m a loser who cares,” you chided, kneeling on the ground then crawling over to her. 
“Right,” she dragged, draping an arm around your waist and drawing you near.
“A lot,” you added.
“I care, a lot. About you.” She laughed at that, and you smiled, reaching up and finding the courage to actually grasp her hair. You ran your hand through it multiple times before settling it back in your lap, steadying your breathing. 
“Do you want to get together?” she asked suddenly.
“Yep,” you replied without missing a beat, and that grin you loved so dearly spread on her face. You giggled at her expression, before nestling down.

Chapter Text

Your Song:


Vance Joy – Fire and the Flood
She was constantly playing Pandora, and when this song came on, a grin spread across your face. You would sing it every time it came along the radio, spinning her chair or glancing at her with a smile. It reminded you of the inseparability you had together, constantly holding hands or at least residing within the same room. She made you happy wherever you were, and you would be her crutch wherever she was. Her imprint on you was burned so deeply, it had reached your heart and sunk into your blood. No matter the situation, she was always there, and you would never let her go. 


George Ezra – Budapest
He often told you the same: that he would give up everything for you. When he came to the surface, he abandoned his role as the king. He was still consulted about monster affairs to this day, but otherwise, he was just a stay at home kind of guy that enjoyed gardening. Yet, saying that, he claimed valuable possessions from his former residence – which was actually just an echo flower and a few pots of golden ones – but every time you sneezed around them, he stared at you worriedly and suggested he rid of them. It was cute, but worrying. You didn’t want him to think he had to change himself in order to accommodate you, and yet, when he showed you this song, you couldn’t help but laugh. He was such a dork.


Jamie Lawson – Wasn’t Expecting That
You had no idea where he even heard the idea of music from the surface, but had an inkling that it was because of your Aunt Julia. Besides that, he somehow managed to obtain your phone one evening and navigated his way through YouTube until he found the right song. You were pleasantly surprised when music began playing, and narrowed your eyes as you realized it was coming from him. He pacified you and lied back down, grasping your hand while smiling. You listened carefully to the lyrics as he whispered the ones he found important. You rolled your eyes at his romanticism, but deep down, your heart was hammering. You were afraid he could feel your palms becoming clammy as your cheeks grew hot. You weren’t even close to being familiar with such affectionate gestures, but you could definitely use more of it. 


Bleu (Nice Cream Guy):
One Direction – Little Things
Because it was true, he loved all the little things about you. Even when the hot chocolate was getting old and you really needed some new chairs, he endured it all for you. Every day he woke up, he hoped to see you at the window, just watching people or birds or cars. It didn’t matter where your attention was located as long as he could watch you, too. You had so many cute expressions, especially when you turned flustered. With such knowledge, he would often try to tickle you, or compliment you until your face couldn’t get any redder. Not to mention, he appreciated the endless support you gave him over his business. He didn’t think he’d ever be able to repay you, but figured being around could become just the right payment. Apparently, it was.


BP (Burgerpants):
Panic! At the Disco – Nicotine
He chuckled when you played the song for him, but the more it repeated, the more he seemed enraptured by it. Eventually, he found himself muttering the lyrics when he looked at you, then instantly shut up and turn away when he realized what he was doing. He wanted to say that you were practically brainwashing him with words, yet, while remembering the song, he refused to actually tell you that. He had never been so confused about his feeling in all the 19 years of his life. Now, you came around and twisted his thoughts, catching his tongue and breaking the law that was idioms. No longer was he upset with the path his future was taking, as you had completely taken over and made it your own. He knew there was no life without you – not anymore.


Amber Run – I Found
No matter how much they had changed for the better, they still had their off days – as everyone should. At nights when the both of you were exhausted by the day’s activities, they would vent to you about how they missed the days when you were both children. They explained you were so different back then, less scarred and more charismatic. Now, there was just the present where you glanced at them with concern, but hid it with loving smiles. They told you that they understood where your feelings were coming from, although hating that you had to feel them at all. They wished they could take back everything they had done to you – and all that you had done to them – but no one could rewind back that far. The deed was done, and the contract sealed. The past had passed. It would take them a while to learn that.


Sam Smith – How Will I Know?
Insecurity was a daily part of your life. And that lack of confidence stretched far beyond your disorder, into most of your relationships. You were always uncertain of people, not being able to read others very well. He was no exception. You often had to ask him if he really like being around you, to which he would always reply that of course he did. There was no end to the doubt you held, and yet, he would continue to remind you. All the things you hated about yourself happened to be the things he loved about you. He would tell you that, but you would brush it off as flattery. Perhaps that self-loathing was what kept him at a distance. Still, that distance was barely a centimeter, and he never passed up a chance to show his affection. He would never give up on you.


Three Days Grace – Fallen Angel
Who was the Fallen Angel? You weren’t sure. It seemed you both were. You both had done good deeds, but then got tempted by the bad. You both had been the moth too attracted to the light to realize that shining was instead your end. Although, that deadly similarity between the both of you created a connection. When one was rolling down an unsteady slope, the other one was always there to catch them. Those ghosts that haunted you, together, kept you close to each other. There was never a moment when you didn’t understand, and all those rude acts could easily be forgotten. Every time you raised your hand, he would await the moment when you calmed, then comfort you in the claustrophobia of his vines. It was chaos, but it was order.


Mumford and Sons – Believe
Everyone thought the relationship you both held together was absolutely adorable. But, behind the scenes, there was so much more. There was a wall between you both that could not be taken down. Together, you were doubtful that how the world was playing out before you was the way it should have been playing. You were always scared the timelines would reset, and they were scared they would one day forget you. The internal, self-torture you put yourselves through was ripping and tearing at any chance to get too close. But, on the days when none of that mattered, there was peace. There was peace, and love, and hope, and no one else existed. Those days came rarely, but it kept you both wishing. Wishing for something better until something better appeared.


Lifehouse – Between the Raindrops
The way he held himself around you assured you that he would never leave. Besides that, you weren’t exactly sure what would become of him if he did. You still reflected on the day he abandoned you for just a second too long, the agony of it all. And yet, when he had appeared before you, it seemed he hadn’t been affected. On the lighter side of things, you were good for him. You were a source of motivation, and you gave him some sort of will to live. When he was contemplating just isolating himself from the rest of the world, you would think of something that made you happy, and those feelings of joy would transfer over to him. It was hard to watch him sulk when he failed to find any answers about the timelines, but you would try your best to console him. To this day, he was not fully healed from all that he had seen and been through, but you were determined to find the end of it. He was grateful for that.


FREE – Fire and Water
After hiring a repairman to fix the karaoke machine, you found all of the songs ironically included fire in some way. While you had been waiting for him to finish cleaning up in the back, you had wandered over to it and gave it a few quarters, picking a random song by one of the only artists you knew. You were quite entertained as it played, humming to the lyrics and tapping your fingers along the polished bar as you paced back and forth. When he came out from the fire exit, he silently watched you swing along until you turned and caught his gaze. He was expecting embarrassment from you, but he should have known better, as instead you had leaned over the counter and pulled him around. You forced him into a sloppy dance, but he enjoyed it all the same. Besides, it was catchy song.


Daithi de Nogla – Your Love
He would sing this song to you whenever he stayed the night, a practical lullaby, and only for you. Although his voice always had that mechanical undertone, he could sound out lyrics like an angel. You always wanted to ask him to sing more, but by the time he was finished, you were fast asleep. You never knew if it was magic, or he was just that calming to you. Either way, you could never get enough, and were grateful he remembered that every time he lied down on the couch with you. He would brush your hair softly as you relaxed there, never missing in a beat in the missing background music – not that he needed it. He was the most enticing drug, and his voice as he sung those lyrics was your fix.


MK (Monster Kid):
Linda Ronstadt & Aaron Neville – Don’t Know Much
Because it was true, you didn’t know much. You had always been isolated from the good side of the world, too captured in the dark of broken family you had at home to see any light. But he was showing you, teaching you, how to feel something more than just fear and negativity. Even if you had to step in front of him and protect him from those JL members occasionally, he assured you there was a lot more to see. And each day, he gave you another reason to live, another reason not to give up. So, you remained close to him. As the world evolved around you and you struggled to keep up with the transformation, you clung to his sweater with all the life you had. Uncertainty was definitely a factor all times of the day, but he led you through the confusion without as much as a stumble. He was the only one there for you, but that never mattered.


The Weeknd – In the Night
Muffet loved this song, and would politely ask you to play it every time she visited your apartment. Although, when you asked her why she liked it so much, she would just giggle and pull you into a dance. After a while, you learned to stop asking and just enjoy the way she twirled you in circles, complimenting you for your nonexistent dance moves. You knew she was always trying to flatter you, so you let her words sink in, taking it all for granted. It was scary, thinking you’re at someone’s mercy, allowing them to bend you as they wish, but you trusted her. You gave her your heart, and in return she gave you her love. It was a great deal, and there was never a moment you regretted making it. The only thing you would ever regret was letting the song end, and watching her walk away.


Napstablook / Napstabot:
Zella Day – Hypnotic
You pulled him in from the very moment he saw you, and once you began talking, there was no way he’d be able to stop thinking of you. You were a splinter in soft fabric of his body, but it had gone down so far, it failed to bother him. Still, it was there, and it was not coming loose, so he let it be. He let it be and the infection spread, tainting his blood stream until he couldn’t be any bluer. Now, there was no chance he’d be able to let you go, and he felt a hollowness all those time you had to leave. Without the high you gave him from just a simple glance, he was the same timid ghost from all those years ago. He was just another person in the sea of the world, desperately trying to keep afloat. All that time, you had become a lot more than his lifesaver.


Coldplay – Adventure of a Lifetime
Because with him, it was just that – an adventure. He was constantly pulling you to places even you hadn’t known about, enlightening your senses with just a touch. His enthusiasm was contagious, and being around him made you happier than you could have ever imagined. It was true, he made you feel alive. After dreary days in the park, watching the people around you and knowing they were better-off than you were, it was hard to see a reason why you existed. Now, he filled you with zest, picking you up and lifting you onto his shoulders to show you the world from a new point of view. You loved it.


Megan Trainor – Like I’m Gonna Lose You
He was too lazy to walk home one night, which ended up in him sleeping on your couch while you binged watched your favorite show. You had worn headphones as to not disturb him with the sound – although you doubted he’d actually wake up from it – but his sudden yells and cries for you were easily heard over the characters’ dialogue. You had thrown the laptop aside and ripped off your headset, tripping over the rug before you were next to him. His sockets were shut tightly, a bead of sweat starting on his forehead. You had grasped his shoulders and shook him awake, heaving him into a hug until he stopped shuddering and sobbing. His bony fingers had practically ripped the fabric of your shirt as he clung to you, whispering words you couldn’t understand through the blubbering. After that night, you kept a watchful eye on him, and for you, he did the same.


Hozier – Take Me to Church
She was loving, but she was controlling – demanding. Even when the good overruled bad, you could easily pick out her flaws. She was dominating and cheeky. Being around her was fun, but fun always has its times where it turns to disaster. Arguments were rare, but when they came, they were heated. You learned to look past it. She knew what was best for you, and you were willing to comply if it meant seeing more of the motherly side you loved. She had brought you in, welcoming you into a type of loving family you had never experienced before. On nights when you remembered all bad that had been said about you and your work, she would hold you. She would bake you something warm, and then she would warm you herself. There was no end to her generosity if you were giving, yourself.


gnash – i hate you i love you
It seemed she never forgot. Even when the timelines shifted and sent everyone back to the beginning, she knew deep down when something wasn’t right. And she held this unimaginable fear that one day whatever had been destroying everything back then would rise from the dead and destroy it all, again. You wished you could tell her that the angel of death had been you, but you valued her presence – in all honesty, you loved her. Love… You were both afraid to say that word to each other. She was in the clutches of a constant, quiet dread. Thinking the worst would become of her, she kept her mouth shut when it came to admitting her feelings. Sitting next to her on a subway and seeing other couples kiss was torture for the both of you, but it was like witnessing a car accident. It was so sad to watch, but you could never look away. It gave you a thrill, a rush, making you wonder, “What if? What if that happened to me?” But those wonders remained silent, and her grin was the only thing that reminded you she wasn’t keeping you around for nothing. It was difficult, but you stood strong.

Chapter Text

Luu (Mad Dummy / Mad Bot) Scenarios:


The bandages running up your arms shifted as you raised the phone closer to your face, trying to seem normal. Your hood was pulled loosely over your hair, fake glasses covering your eyes. This is what your life consisted of now - being someone that you weren't. Nobody knew who you actually were - hell, you didn't think you even knew, yourself. Not anymore, at least. Your name was lost in the ocean of different personalities, and as you scrolled through someone else’s Facebook page, you felt hollow. But emotions were for another time. Now, there was work. And as you looked up, you noticed him. A smirk curled on your lips and your fingers tapped icons on the phone screen until it brought up the camera. You double-checked the flash, then snapped a picture of the robot standing at the front doors of Ross. He was yelling into his phone, almost loud enough for you to hear what he was saying from across the parking lot. Shaking your head, you slipped the device back into your hoodie’s pocket and stood up off the wall. Walking along the pavement, you moved until you couldn't hear his voice any longer.


Meeting… Again:
Scouting had escalated rather quickly, and before you knew it, your forearm was crushed against his neck, his metal nails scratching at your shoulders. He was growling out words distorted by struggling mechanics, and you strained to keep him against the brick wall.
“You shouldn't fight back, it’ll be easier to let you go,” you grumbled, everything growing hot as adrenaline pulsed through your veins. “I know you're angry, but you seriously need to calm your shit.”
“I know who you are!” he spat, and your grip loosened the slightest bit. No one had ever said that to you.
“Buddy, I don't even know my real name anymore. I doubt you actually have any useful information.” He stopped struggling, fans whirring heavily to cool him down.
“You're (Y/N),” he said. “You're the leader of the JL.” You refused to let any emotions show and ripped away, letting him slump comfortably against the wall. “Everyone thinks you're the bad guy, but really you just want to figure out who you are. Monsters got in your way.” He was smirking.
“Shut up,” you muttered, crossing your arms over your chest. Your loose trench coat fluttered in the wind, and you looked at him through the strands of hair that floated in front of your face. “How would you know anyway?”
“I'm a cousin of the third most popular celebrity in the entire world. If you didn't know that, you're a real fucking hermit.”
You resisted the urge to crush his metal skull in. It was a waste of time. “Well, Mr. Know-It-All, take that gossip and shove it back up your ass, or I'll make sure you regret it.” You swiveled on your heel, feet splashing through a rain puddle before he said words that stopped you in your tracks.
“So, you are (Y/N), then?”
You glanced over your shoulder, smiling wryly. “Honestly, Luu, I don't know.” And as you swiftly walked away, he didn't have to question how you knew his name.


Becoming Friends:
Over the month, you were beginning to think he was the stalker and you were the victim. It had all started out reversed, but now he had turned the tables, appearing at random and practically harassing you. Alright, so, it was far from harassment, but you had threatened pressing charges a few times. Unfortunately, he was aware that a barking dog would never bite. Thus, whenever he felt, he would join you in your quiet strolls, instead making them less quiet, and giving them more fighting. It wasn't uncommon to pull knives on each other, but the only thing torn was clothes - one time, you had cut off a piece of his hair which was surprisingly realistic. But, he made your life dangerous. If any of your followers were to find you were engaging in regular conversation with a monster, they would rebel. Then, who would you be? Taking role as a leader in the JL society gave you something to lean on. In the streets, everyone whispered about your identity like they actually knew. With the JL, you could pretend you weren't a nameless kid stuck on the streets. But with him, it didn't matter, and you never pushed him away because of that. The only thing you ever did was supply him with more knives.


You hated it. And he loved to know that. While walking down the street, he would get a certain smirk across his face, and you always knew that meant bad news. It would start off with just a side hug, his nails digging into your bicep in order to keep you from shoving him away. Then, his arm moved lower, to your waist, and he rested his head against yours. You would be punching him by then, no matter how useless the act was. He would just remain walking, your hits ineffective against the steel. At once, you would reach for the soul that floated lazily between the two parts of his body, and he would immediately rip away. You would be cackling by then, taking it as a chance to slip away. You could never stay near him for too long.


Stronger Than You:
How sad was it to see a creature become what it had always wanted to be, just to know you were about to destroy it? In all honesty, if you hadn't lacked but a little sliver of compassion, it would’ve set you back. But he was vulnerable now. He was one of them and he deserved to rot and die. But he was smiling. You hated it. He did nothing but smile at you, waiting patiently for the battle to be over. He was naïve, like you. He reminded you of what you could have been - of what you used to be. So you took that knife, and you slashed his body. And you did again. And again. And again. And again. Until he was nothing more than dust floating in the water. A creature like that didn't deserve to live in a world like this.


But That's Not Strong Enough:
It was unfortunate. At that fall, you were the first to ever miss the bed of flowers. Instead, you had fallen in the wreckage of the bridge, and it suffocated you. It crushed organs, and broke bones. You lied crippled beneath the debris until all that internal damage finished it course. He watched it all from the small waterfall. He would've helped if he had known how to. Anger wasn't something he felt anymore. It was just a hollowness. He didn't know what to do now.


They Comfort You:
“Hey,” he greeted roughly as he stepped of a store’s wall. You elected to ignore him and continued walking. “What got stuck up your ass today?”
Your fists tightened, your chest soon following. Your lips curled back into a sneer, natural instinct taking over. You were never taught to play nice. You were never taught at all. “Fuck off.”
He seemed rather surprised, his angry nature faltering as his synthetic eyebrows raised. His rhythmic footsteps broke their music, hesitating for a split second and ruining the tune. You were both silent, unable to utter any apologies. That's one thing you both lacked the ability of. Never in your time together were any “I’m sorry”s. There were just “Whatever”s and condescending “Uh huh”s.
But, he broke the code. He broke his law. “That was stupid.” You didn't know what he was referring to. “I shouldn't have said that.” You smirked. That was the closest thing you’d ever get for an apology.


Letters to the Lost:
I wish I could get over,
This way they make me feel.
But one time spent hungover -
I just can't see the appeal.
They wonder if I'm angry,
But I'm just singularly done.
All this time spent freely,
Is racked up one to none.
I wish I may,
I wish I might, 
Spend this dream,
Without them tonight.


Accidental Kiss:
It was a friendly fight. Which meant a regular fight, just with no anger. You swung, then ducked, dodged, and shielded your face. It was like a game, except the accomplishment of winning would be so much more real. He was grinning wildly, enjoying all your attacks and the way he could always fight back. When one punch was thrown on your end, he caught your wrist. As your motion was suddenly stopped in your shoulder, you found yourself still falling forward. Unfortunately, that landed your face directly against his. You pretended not to enjoy the proximity before opening your eyes and recognizing a member from across the street. You quickly parted, and shoved him harshly against the nearest building, fleeing the scene. You really needed to fix your stability.


They Tell You That You're Attractive:
It was funny, but in a way, it wasn't. The JL was never supposed to be a violent group. You all were supposed to protest with cheap makeshift signs at the town hall, or somewhere as uncomfortable as the monster king’s house. But, one member stepped out of line. They got their ass beat by a certain individual as everyone else fled. Suddenly, the thirst for revenge became overwhelming for them. You sat in the background while all the pacified protesters transformed into things much less merciful. Sitting at your rusting desk in the warehouse where everyone joined together, you knew you couldn't stop them. It all lead to a war, everything you had created was now crumbling. And everyone blamed you. Now, it wasn't uncommon to have a defiant individual test their luck with you. When they swung their grimy hands at you, you let them. You felt it was better that they take their anger out on you than a monster. Ever since Luu came into your life, you had grown a soft spot for all those things that had filtered from Mt. Ebott. You’d never admit that out loud, but you had. So, you wore the black eyes and yellow bruises with the little bit of pride you had left. 
He was used to seeing you scratched up, but noticed the slight hint of depression on your features every time you were. While walking alongside you, he decided to at least try to bring back that spark you usually had.
“Hey.” You didn't acknowledge his voice. “If that's going to scar, it’ll look real badass.” The corner of your lip twitched. “Y’know you look pretty even with the bruises, right?” Your eyes flickered over to him, curious. He went silent. “But you still suck at knife throwing.” You snorted, then shoved him off the sidewalk.


They Get Jealous:
You had needed someone powerful. Actually, you had needed a lot of powerful people. Why? You were planning to take down your own group. After so long of watching them scatter around the city like rabid rats, you decided to call the exterminators. You weren't going to kill them, but instead make sure they would never band up again. Therefore, the two monsters Undyne and Asgore seemed like the perfect pair. You had been spending a lot of you time with them, laying out tactics and locating weaknesses. He, of course, became rather jealous. He didn't understand why you couldn't just disband them together, without anyone else. Hell, he figured the leader could do anything. 
Leaving Asgore’s house one day, you saw him waiting down the drive. Once you had reached him, your fingers tightly grasped the back of his neck and you lead him away from the scene like a disobedient child.
“For someone so sure of themselves, you're getting mighty worked up over a person.” He scoffed and tried to defend himself, but you weren’t listening.


They Leave You / You Get Jealous:
The plans had all played out and the abandoned warehouse felt empty without the yelling and rock music. There was no life besides your presence, and even you felt a little dead inside. You had leaned back in your old chair, feet propped up on the dented metal desk that had always been yours. Your phone was placed on it as you stared at the postcard in your hands. It was a picture of Luu and his cousins all standing beneath the Eiffel Tower, the words “Wish you were here!” scrawled in the corner. The card dated back to a week, and you had yet to find Luu again. Even before this had arrived, it had been another seven days since his absence. You were never told he was going anywhere. Thinking back, you realized you were never told anything about him. Maybe it was fair. He didn't know anything about you - but that was because you didn't know yourself. Your fingers tightened on the photo before you ripped it in half. Then you ripped it again. And again. And again. And again. Until there was nothing left to destroy. A scream ripped from your throat as you stood, throwing your chair across the room and punching the desk, kicking the drawers until it tipped over. You kept screaming, tearing at your hair until blood dripped to the floor. You stared in disdain at the small puddles, spitting at them before stomping out of the warehouse. You slammed the metal door behind you, but right after, the hinges creaked and it fell from its frame. You glared at it, then pulled a cigarette from your breast pocket, a lighter from your pants. You held them in one hand as you wandered towards a can of gasoline. It would be a fun night.


They Make It Up To You:
Crime scene tape surrounded the charred debris and ash that was once your warehouse. You sat at the gates, smoking cigarette in your hand as you watched the sun set. Asgore had informed you that Mettaton returned from his travel, which meant Luu had come back, too. You didn't know whether to wait for him to find you, or give up on seeing him again. When a long shadow cast over your form, it had been decided. You looked up at him, scowling, but not unwelcoming. His soul was a duller shade than you remembered, but the rest of him remained in an eternal still. You realized he would never age, and natural causes would never catch up to him. Thinking over that, you didn't know why it hadn't bothered you before.
“Hey,” he greeted coarsely. You maintained your silence. He stepped over the yellow line of “DO NOT CROSS” and moved to sit next to you. You listened to the metal of his body scrape against the gravel as he situated himself, and it irked you in a foreign way.
“Why didn't you say anything?” you questioned quietly. Your voice was hoarse from weeks of exhaustion and sorrow.
“What would I have said?”
Your shoes sunk into the rocks, chest constricting uncomfortably. “At least a goodbye.”
“Goodbyes aren't really my thing. I -”
“Screw off,” you snapped, the cigarette folding into your hand. You didn't mind how it burned. “You can't just disappear and expect people to understand.” The embers slipped through your fingers, turning black and shriveling on the ground. “I don't know if you noticed, but I'm a nobody now. Do you understand how hollow someone feels when they can't remember their own name?” Your nose burned, eyes stinging with oncoming tears. “It's like I don't exist. I’m just some fucking ghost of my own past. Without you, I felt even more invisible.” Your lungs heaved, and he grasped your shoulder. Burying your face in your hands, you closed your eyes and sobbed. “I don't know if I'm alive anymore!” you screamed. He pulled you against his chest as you wept, breath shaking. “Is this me?”
“It's you,” he soothed, stroking your shoulder. “Despite everything, it's still you, (Y/N).”


Dating Start!:
The trees were swinging outside his apartment window, wind whistling against the glass. He was watching TV as you leaned against the pillow placed by his side, not interested in whatever show was playing. You instead listened to the whirring of his fans and creaking of his gears, wondering how exactly all of it continued running. He seemed like impossible clockwork, ticking down to a time you couldn't decipher.
You watched the branches sway while the sky coated itself in deep shades of purple, pink, and orange. “What are you watching?” you questioned mindlessly.
“The Bachelor.”
You glanced at the TV, an eyebrow raising. “Seriously?”
“Yeah.” He paused for a few beats. “It's making me think.”
You shifted so your knees were pressed against his legs. It was the first time they weren't covered in bruises and you didn't feel the aching. “About what?”
“Love.” You snorted and he glared at you. “I’m serious.”
“Sure. Yeah. I believe you.”
“Would you actually if I said I wanted to date you?”
“... What?”
He leaned closer, sharp teeth showing under his smirk. “I want you,” he growled.
“A’ight.” You shrugged his burning gaze off, eyes focusing on the TV. He chuckled, throwing an arm around your shoulders.


Your Song:
gnash - leave a message 
It wasn't always easy. Some days, looking in the mirror was difficult, and recognizing the reflection as yourself was even harder. You would leave every now and then, leaving notes on his door to let him know that you needed a break. What he never knew was where you went, although it was rather obvious. It was always the rubble of your warehouse - the only place you could feel like yourself. At least there, you could look at the rusty metal scraps and charred gravel with some nostalgia. And he’d let you live like that, not understanding yet attempting to be empathetic. That's just how your world evolved.

Chapter Text

TW: Suicide, and themes of death

Hush These Voices:


You bite your lip, fold your hands. You wasted words - they fall like sand.
Who would think that at some point they would witness a hit-and-run? Someone sadistic, perhaps. Someone wishing to inflict pain on others. If that driver had been a sadist, they were a doing a damn fine job at accomplishing their darkest desires. She held your crumpled body in her short arms, crying as she yelled at you to wake up. A smile was on your lips as her pleas fell on deaf ears, but your eyes were misting over. A crowd had gathered on the street, circling around the scene as if to protect and shield your corpse. A man was yelling into his phone while he spoke with a 911 operator, and his wife was crying. A few scattered monsters stood silently, trying to process the situation. To her, time seemed to have slowed, and she could feel her heart beating - the pounding in her ears. Her cheeks were wet with tears, hands trembling as she moved to cradle your head in the crook of her arm. The unoccupied hand moved to brush away hair from your eyes, and she desperately tried to get them to move. No matter how she turned your face, you still would not look at her. As she dug her face into your collar bone, she knew you would never look at her again.


You share your love in the dark. You watch your prayers fall apart.
So long ago it seemed that he had treated Frisk with a bedtime story of the prophesied angel from the surface. They had giggled when he tickled their stomach and told them that, that angel had always been them. He had believed it for so long, too: that Frisk was his savior. He had believed it until he saw you, lying in the garden, limp. When he rushed over, thorny vines were wrapped tightly around your neck, small droplets of blood running from some of their incisions. Your skin was bruising around the plant, and he desperately clawed at them, no matter how useless it was. Even as they were removed and your sensitive flesh was left a bloody, purple mess, you weren't quite there. He cried out for you, reminding you of how beautiful a day it was - a tragedy could never happen in weather that was perfect for a game of catch. And yet, that was proved wrong. Your face was expressionless as your head rolled to the side while he carefully lifted you into his lap. Hushing you for no reason in particular - perhaps he was hushing himself - he closed your eyes and pressed you tightly against his chest. He wept as he realized the angel had never been Frisk. The angel, his savior, his heroine, his reason for the throne. It had always been you.


Baby, bless your heart. These walls are painted with your scars.
It had all been in good fun. So often had you climbed trees with him, seeing who could reach the top the quickest. He always won, which left you complaining each and every time. How unfortunate that you became erratic in your hand gestures and thrown yourself off balance. He screamed as you fell into the bed of flowers below. He stared in panic until he heard your laughing. He scaled the tree quickly, landing just on the other side of the tree from you. His feet padded heavily on the ground as he neared you, only to see a terrible sight. Although you had been chuckling, it meant nothing good. It was like a scene from a horror movie, and he stood in paralysis as he surveyed the rusted fence post that had gone straight through your chest.
"All in good fun, right, Asriel?" you choked out, hands wrapping around the metal of the pole as you grimaced. "It was all fun. Just fun." You coughed, sobs of pure agony ringing out between each wheeze. He found himself unsteady and rocking as he walked closer. You watched him carefully, and when he tripped over a rock and immediately fell by your side, you smiled. Blood dribbled out from the corner of your lips. That's when you went still. It wasn't fun anymore.


Bleu (Nice Cream Guy):
But I can't feel the words you say. No, I don't feel the words you say.
What had motivated you, he would never know. He just awoke one morning and the window was open, curtains flying in the rough breeze and pouring rain. He wondered where you were and why you had left the glass slid up - he had never seen you unlock the latch, ever. When he peered out the sill, he felt his head spinning, but it wasn't from vertigo. He saw a body - your body - on the sidewalk below, a pool of blood surrounding your head. Your locks look drenched and stringy in the crimson liquid. He stumbled back from the opening, covering his mouth with one hand. Once he regained normalcy in his stomach, he sprinted out of the complex and met your corpse outside. His fur felt heavy in the rain, and the wind was strong enough to knock him over, but he couldn't leave you like that. He could never leave you. As he neared, he noticed your face was an unrecognizable, meaty mess, your neck crooked at an odd angle. Leaning against the wall as his vision swirled, he figured, maybe - this one time - there was no choice but to leave you.


BP (Burgerpants):
You're longing just to feel something. But I don't feel a damn thing.
"(Y/N)!" he screamed for you, but you fell anyway. His horror could not reverse what the mugger - the murderer - had done, and right in front of him nonetheless. The tear in your chest bled uncontrollably, but you seemed unaffected as you lied on the pavement. All in all, you seemed peaceful and unknowing. It took him closer inspection to realize it was because you were dead. He felt dizzy, and fell in slow motion to his knees. As his back arched and he leant over to regain his wits, one of his paws slipped in the blood surrounding your corpse. A tear slipped easily from his eye as he felt his stomach churn while he raised his hand close to his face. He examined the deep crimson of your blood, and if had not been yours, he might've thought it was a beautiful color. "(Y/N)," he whispered, crawling unsteadily to you. He lifted his hand close, reaching out for you, and a droplet of the red fluid splattered onto your cheek. His eyes crossed as his chin dug into the pavement, losing consciousness.


Cover your eyes. With your unkempt hair.
After all they had done for you, you were still mortal and you could still die. They were unused to mortality, but suddenly felt familiar with it as you lied at the bottom of the slope, limbs twisted at odd angles and head bleeding profusely. They stared at you from the elevated precipice, barely able to make out the scratches that practically coated your flesh, the way you failed to get up. After so many timelines of watching others kill, then killing them, Chara felt undeniably different about death. Examining your corpse, something tugged in their chest, making them frown. At the same time, they wanted to do so much more than frown. They wanted to cry. They wanted to sob. They wanted to jump off that cliff to join you. But they couldn't. They were a god now, and they could not die. They were unused to mortality.


Your raging fires. That burnt all these years.
He couldn't find you. After your form disappeared under the crashing waves, you failed to appear in his line of vision. All he could see was the tide rolling over his fur, begging him to come closer. Come closer. When he defied the nature of a dog and stuck his head underwater, his eyes stung, but he forced them to remain open. He felt like he had searched the endless nothing, but he still could not find you. He gasped as he resurfaced, and couldn't tell if his face was wet, or he was crying. His limbs desperately clawed at the water, trying to move through the fighting sprays. It seemed they were not welcoming him anymore, but convincing him to stay away. He returned the reluctance until his feet slipped from under him and he couldn't feel the sand between his toes. His head dived under once more, and while he struggled to reach the top again, he looked for you. You wouldn't move. He couldn't find you.


Suffocating on your own words. Faking who you are.
He was scared of himself. Every day, that was his only fear. After Frisk managed to beat the six souls out of him, he was always scared. When all was said and done, he knew more about himself than he had ever known before. He knew that he could be reckless, and vengeful - borderline hateful. It was agony, waking up each morning and expecting to find you dead because of him. And one day, his expectation became reality. He didn't know what did do as he saw your limp body, pale face. Your hands were clasped tightly, frozen, around the vines that had unearthed from his pot. Dried blood covered your palms and wrapped around your wrists, creating beautiful designs down your flesh. Your expression was pained, and your nails were chipped, legs tucked closely as if you had been struggling for quite the while. He didn't understand why you were unmoving until he noticed the large stain to the left of your chest. Your white pajama shirt was almost completely soaked, and it still looked wet. He felt sick, but he wouldn't take back the vines. He was not himself anymore. He was scared of himself.


You're wondering why you're never enough.
"It's going to be okay," was the last thing you told them before the gun rang out. They were practically deaf as you looked over your shoulder at them, making sure they were okay. When you knew they were still in one piece, you smiled wryly, then slowly slipped off your feet, a line of blood trailing from your forehead. You landed heavily on the ground, leaving Frisk to stare straight ahead. A former JL member had decided to attack them, but you being the heroic type, stepped in the range of fire. You had crossed enemy lines and let a barrel point directly at your face. And all for them. All for nothing. Now, the coward had run away and left you dead. Frisk hadn't encountered something like this before - not that they could remember. But now that they had, the world seemed to stop. The lights from nearby skyscrapers winked at a grudging rate, and the rain had either ceased or was just stuck midair. They looked down at your body, and felt a pang of hurt to see you weren't breathing. Their shoes scraped against the pavement as they sat down next to you. They grabbed your stiff hand and held it as they called the police. It wasn't going to be okay.


Decaying. Dancing with the danger.
He had gone too far this time. No matter how he had promised you to never leave again, he still did. He was convinced he could find the correct timeline, that he could reverse it all. With all his selfishness and unreasonable guilt, he was granted tunnel vision, not realizing that perhaps he didn't want to go back. Because, that's what a normal being would think, right? That since the love of their life was right in front of them, they wouldn't have to confront their hazy past. Wrong. His demons were his demons. His battles were his battles. And when he carried half of your soul just a smidgen out of line, he still did not realize that you were what he had always wanted. As he came back to your timeline and found you dead, your hands grasping your neck and the collar of your shirt, he still felt nothing of desire. He felt... rather odd, actually. He stood, trying to recognize the feeling until he looked down at himself. Your half soul that he had stolen was floating out in front of him, the rest of his body melting. He tried to scream, but something blocked his throat. A searing spread through his veins - the abyss was taking him back. After so long away from the void, he had, in a way, dared it to find him again. He watched your half-soul shatter, and then he slipped away into the endless nothing. He had gone too far this time.


Chasing after fears of never falling in love.
Play with fire, and you're going to get burned. But, when push comes to shove, playing becomes fighting and fighting is just what you two were doing. You hadn't meant all that you said - not really. You had gotten drunk and intruded in on his home. After he sent his daughter to her room, he tried to make you leave, too. But you rebelled. You shoved him when he barely touched you, threatening him. You spat insults every time he came too close, and he was acting surprisingly patient through it all. Then, you began making moves towards were his daughter had gone, and he decided that was the last straw. He had grabbed you roughly, almost throwing you towards the door. All that talk of being calm had evaporated with the extreme heat of his flames. Even a few feet away, you had begun sweating. But you kept disobeying. You wouldn't follow his motions, or even respond to his incomprehensible yells. He hadn't realized his flames had reached dangerous levels until the fire alarm went off. Per resident request, his flat hadn't been installed with sprinklers, and you only watched the fire grow along the ceiling as everything turned to chaos around you. He tried telling you to leave, yet you resisted, ignoring his frantic requests. When the red and orange climbed down to meet you, you let it with a grin on your face. And he watched you burn with terror.


Luu (Mad Dummy / Mad Bot):
Shh, baby.
Even when you disbanded them all, a few still dared to come back to see the wreckage. And when they found you, well, it was like a Christmas miracle. They all smirked as you sat in the gravel, flicking the burning cigarette between your fingers. You refused to look up as they surrounded you. You refused to acknowledge it when one pulled out a knife. You refused to scream as they stabbed it into your shoulder. You refused to cry as they pulled it out, then put it back in and twisted it around. You refused to be afraid as another knife was pressed against your throat. You refused to move as it slipped into your flesh and caused a waterfall of red. You choked against all the blood, but refused to let the fear reach your eyes. You refused. They seemed disappointed that you didn't fight, but that's just who you were. They left you at the gates, gargling, hands wrapping around your neck. When he found you only a day later, he relived a moment he couldn't exactly remember. He wished your lifestyle hadn't been such a wreck, and that he had refused to let you leave him, but he could never tie you down. With refusal, comes disappointment. He hadn't wanted to disappoint you like you had disappointed them.


But I can't feel the words you say. No, I won't feel the words you say!
Each day, you lived in fear. You would wake up to pictures of yourself sleeping in his bed, a line of new threats awaiting in your messages. They would call you curses, insult your body. They would tell you that he was using you. Sending you pictures of a knife pressed against the glass of the bedroom window, they would tease you, saying that when you were dead, the whole world would be a happier place. You couldn't show Mettaton or contact the police, they already listed the consequences if you did. Somedays, you wondered if they were just some overly psychotic fangirl, but the fear they induced felt so real. It felt so real that you thought there was only one way out. You didn't want to die, no. You just wanted them to shut up. You wanted them to go away. Even if you were burning in hell, it would be so much better than living with their horrid, hateful words. They made you feel like you were worthless, like you deserved so much worse. You weren't sure what worse was, and didn't want to find out. So you waited until he kissed you goodbye, and you went through the plan. When they looked through the window and found your hanging body, they sent one final message. "I'm sorry." When he found you, too, he vowed to make sure they were much more than sorry. He would make sure they were dead.


MK (Monster Kid):
So, baby, bless your heart.
It all came back. Like a boomerang, what one person threw out always came back. As mentioned before, your father wasn't the best role model, nor the best dad in general. Along with that, he owed a lot of people a lot of things. Now that he was dead, they were all broke and worked up. So, they went to the closest person related to him. You. MK didn't know what to think at first, when you went missing. He wondered if you just needed a break, or were getting back at him for his own departure a few weeks prior. As he kept a slow pace to your house, he found the door open and easily slipped inside. For all that pondering, not once did the thought of you being hurt surface. He was regretting that it hadn't. Now, all he pondered was what he should do. Nothing came to mind. Your face was bruised, swelled. A chain wrapped loosely around your neck, but he could see the bruises and scars that refused to heal. Your lips were parted as if you were screaming, eyes closed tightly. Your fingers had curled into the floorboards, ankles bound together with duct tape. He was empty. He couldn't think, only stare. And so he did, for minutes on end. He stared until he found some liveliness and walked like the living dead out your door. It had started to rain. It all came back.


These walls are painted with your scars.
She was so unaware. Everything she did, it was based on pure instinct. She had just wanted to comfort you, keep you warm. So she had built you a cocoon, threading the webs around your body as you slept. Once everything was done, it was all built so tightly that you couldn't scream, nor would she have been able to hear it. It entrapped you, hugging you softly, but dangerously. There was no escape, no struggling. Tears slipped from your eyes as the webs stuffed down your throat and nostrils. Hands at your sides, you couldn't rip away the threads. You were dying and you could do nothing. When she tore away the threads the next morning, it all felt so wrong. Why weren't you moving? Why were you so cold? She didn't understand - she couldn't. So she built the webs back up and waited for the day that you regained normal temperature. That day never came. She was so unaware.


Napstablook / Napstabot:
You're longing just to feel something.
Death from accidents were horrible, but not rare. They're the second leading cause of death. When he found you lying on the street outside your home, battered and bleeding, he did the only thing he could. He picked you up and ran to Alphys. He was crying, tears melting away the fabric of your shirt until there was practically nothing left. Her sanity was in shambles as she tried to explain that she couldn't save you - that your soul was already gone. He held you in an embrace that would've suffocated you had you actually been alive while he fell to his knees. Kneeling on the tiles, he felt like he would never get up. She tried to convince him to let you go, that she had called Asgore to schedule a proper burial, but he refused. When she touched his shoulder, he reeled away, metal hands leaving red marks on your skin. He was convinced he would never let you go, now. He, himself, would just melt into the floor while still holding you. He would die, just to escape from what was present reality. Now that you were gone, he wanted to be gone, with you.


But I can't feel a damn thing.
"Out of everything, he's never experienced loss. He never remembers enough to feel the effects of it." That's the last thing you told your mother before you disappeared. Where you had gone, nobody knew. He felt like a complete mess, unnerved and lost without your presence. He was nervous, anxious. When he stepped outside, he went back inside. Undyne sent out a search party for you, days after your unexplained desertion. Although she was the protective type and always went with gut instinct, trusting the first thought that came to mind, she knew you didn't mean for this to happen. Sans, however, was indifferent. He blamed you, although silently. If you were there, you would've understood his anger. You wouldn't have wanted Papyrus to become a wreck. You never wished the excitable skeleton any harm, even at times when he completely made you boil over in irritation. For him, you would've done anything. That was proved when you were found in Snowdin, a tote of snow abandoned by your side as your body sat on the steps of his old house. Your skin had been a shade of blue, lips purple from the cold as you were frozen in place. The search team had been scared to move you, instead making the trek back to the surface with only what you had gathered - snow. When Papyrus was shown the box, he didn't know how to express his agony. He remembered only weeks before, how he told you he missed the cold weather. Now, you had gone through death just to gift him with it. He was silent, hands shaking. Out of everything, he's never experienced loss.


You share your love in the dark.
He didn't mean it. He never meant it. Even after all you had done, he never wanted to hurt you. All that was in the past was regrettable. He remembered the fear on your expression as you lied before him, bleeding out. Even if you had returned after your soul shattered, it wouldn't leave him. There was something in your eyes that reminded him that you were both the same. That you both had been hurt, and that you both were overrun with the craving to seek death upon someone that had taken everything from you. In a way, you could both understand each other's deeply seeded rage, but that didn't make it any better. It made it worse. Even now that all had been forgiven, he managed to see the fear again. He had woken up from a nightmare to see you clutching your chest, that shimmer of something else in your irises. You watched him warily, and he couldn't figure out why until your hands began slipping, revealing the clean hole that ran through your chest. You seemed to be in shock, and when he reached out to comfort you, you pulled away. You screeched, face twisting in anguish. You seemed tormented as you pushed yourself far from him. When you landed on the floor, rolling off the bed, you curled up. And he watched you die, knowing it was his fault, again. He didn't mean it.


Watch your prayers fall apart.
"Frisk, have you seen (Y/N)?" The child shook their head, but pointed a finger towards the backyard. "Thank you," she said kindly, ruffling their hair. Then, she followed their gesture, gliding out of the back doors. She only took two steps forward before she found what was wrong. She quickly turned back around and locked the doors before rushing for you, grabbing your hands and pulling you out of the pool. You rolled limply across the pavement of the patio, eyes wide open but unmoving. She began compressing your chest, listening for a heartbeat or breathing. After minutes of trying, struggling to bring you back, she had to give up. Her dress was soaked, and her fingers trembled as she surveyed your skin that had paled and tinted blue. You looked like you had fallen asleep, and she carefully closed your eyes. She suppressed a sob as she stood, stumbling back to the house. She unlocked the doors and ungracefully moved through the house, hugging Frisk close as she called the police. Sometimes water beats fire.


But all you do is share your love.
"(Y/N)?" she called unsurely, cautiously watching for a twitch of movement that showed you were alive. She waited for minutes before a wave of panic crashed over her, filling her with adrenaline. "(Y/N)!" And she rushed over to you, grasping your body tightly in her arms. She had always been seen as strong, but in that moment, she began crying. She repeated apologies, saying she shouldn't have gotten ahead of herself, that she was stupid. Over and over, she pleaded for you to come back, but that slash in your chest told her you couldn't. She watched your blood darken until it was an ugly brown drying on your shirt, no longer contrasting your skin as beautifully. She suddenly felt numb and light, limbs shaking as her arms grew tired of holding you. But she couldn't set you down. She needed you. But now you couldn't give back. You'd never be able to fulfill her need. Her desire.


Hush These Voices That Want Me Dead

Chapter Text

They Have a Nightmare:


Your eyes fluttered open, unsure of your surroundings as you heard distant conversation and mumbling. Blinking a few times to clear away the bleariness, you tried to shift, but found a heavy weight pressed against your side. It all came to you. Inhaling and exhaling deeply, you looked down and saw Alphys. She was clinging to your shirt tightly, and you wondered when she got so close. Her forehead was creased, expression twisted as she muttered something between her breath. Easily, gently, you ran your fingers along her face, smoothing all the lines as you hushed her quietly. Instead of calming, she awoke, eyes opening half way and staring at the couch blankly. She seemed to have trouble recognizing reality as she sat still, frozen. Just as you were about to call her name, the tears began to roll. Like raindrops on a window, they were silent, but quick. You sat up, gathering her in your arms and pulling her into your lap. You held her in a comforting embrace, rocking side to side as she stuffed her face in the crook of your neck. 
“I - I thought… th-thought you were…” She sobbed loudly and your grip tightened. You wanted to take away her pain, but didn't know how. “Dead. You were de-e-ead!” There's a sense of helplessness that comes with trying to console a frantic person. You feel like you're never doing it right, and that words don't help. You feel… indifferent.


“(Y/N)?” he called out for you. You awoke to the rumbling of his voice, rubbing your face. “(Y/N)?” You turned in the bed, facing him only to find that he was asleep. You rested your hand on his shoulder, leaning over his back to peer at his face. “(Y/N)!” He shouted, leaving your ears ringing. You rushed to grip at his other shoulder and roll him over, but he was far too heavy. You settled for patting his back and eventually, he sat up, clutching his head. You tangled your fingers in the fur of his arm, stroking it softly. He glanced over his shoulder at you, and you noticed the gleam in his eyes. He was crying. You slipped out from under the blankets and crawled near, situating yourself in his lap and tucking your head under his chin. His arms surrounded you immediately, and his hot breath travelled down your neck. You sat, quiet, until his breathing evened and he calmed. Even then, you knew he wasn't okay. He would never be okay.


You grumbled as you caught a glance of the early morning time and trudged to the front door, determined to make whoever was knocking suffer. Your face twisted into an irritated, sleep-deprived frown, and you ripped open the door with vengeance coursing through your blood. Your lips parted as you readied to rant, only to see Asriel in all his glory. His hands were cupped, head hanging as he seemed to shrink into himself. His eyes lifted hopefully and you couldn't remember seeing such an innocent, fearful look in them. They widened as he recognized you, and only a moment after, he lunged for you. You were pulled against his chest, feet meeting the cold pavement of your front steps while he sobbed against your shoulder. As his arms captured your back, you hugged him in return to the best of your ability. “I’m so happy,” he mumbled against your skin. You had a feeling he really wasn't. “So happy you're alive.” You didn't understand what he meant by that, but kept holding him. You’d never stop holding him if that's what it took.


Bleu (Nice Cream Guy):
You couldn't sleep that night, settling for watching Buzzfeed on YouTube as he slept on the couch. You rocked back in forth in your recliner, mindlessly playing with a seam on the armrest as you stared at your phone. Out of the corner of your eye and in the dark, you saw him rise. Immediately, he twisted himself towards the back of the couch, eyeing the window. He seemed relieved by whatever he saw, then turned to you. It seemed like it took minutes for him to get up and walk to you, each step heavy and uncertain. You paused the video, removing your headphones and placing everything aside. Once he reached you, he just collapsed, curling up on your lap. It was a bit awkward, him being taller and such, but you adjusted, wrapping your arms around his torso. His nose pressed into your neck, and his hands rested against your stomach as you both relaxed. You couldn't place what might have sparked this random occurrence, but it didn't matter. Against your chest, you could feel his heart racing, a clear sign he was upset. This streak of vulnerability left you wanting to protect him from the world. You couldn't see him like that more than once.


BP (Burgerpants):
Your leg had wrapped around his, one arm tucked against your chest as the other was strewn across his middle. One of his hands clasped your shoulder, keeping you pressed against him. With the position, it made it easy to feel when one companion shifted. Being a light sleeper, you awoke instantly when he began struggling against your captivating limbs. You untangled yourself from him and sat up, trying to make him comfortable. It took a few seconds before you realized he was still asleep. Even so, he seemed distressed and you shook him until he opened his eyes. He gazed at the ceiling, appearing to process his surroundings before he looked at you. You waited patiently for him to explain, or settle back down, but instead he went upright too. He spread his arms as if to welcome you, and you complied. As his face was pressed against your hair, you could hear soft weeping, but knew he didn't want to you. So you pretended to fall asleep, going heavy in his arms as he continued to cry. You didn't know how to help him any other way.


It was a restless night, and after hours of just dozing you decided to remain awake. You had left the bed to make some coffee, standing and staring groggily at the coffee maker. You listened to it grumble, crossing your arms and resting your head on the counter. You almost fell asleep if it had not been for them. “(Y/N)? (Y/N)!” their distressed voice echoed through the apartment, and you stood up, straightening yourself.
“I’m in the kitchen!” you replied, and their padding feet followed. They arrived in the small kitchen, never stopping as they headed across the hardwood for you. Slightly shorter, they tucked their head under yours, gripping your shirt tightly. Confused, your hands rested on their shoulders, thumb stroking over the skin. They felt cold against you, and your palms travelled down their arms, rubbing up and down to warm their flesh. “Are you okay?” Their nose tickled your collarbone as they shook their head in response. Sighing, you clasped your hands behind their neck and pulled them closer. You remained in an embrace until the coffee maker began beeping.


“(Y/N)!” You spun around on your way to the bus stop, seeing Doggo in a full sprint towards you. He practically skidded to a stop just in front of you, grasping your hands, then your cheeks. He seemed to do a full body examination of you and you twitched uncomfortably. “I… I can't believe…” He heaved you into a hug, slightly lifting you into the air. You wiggled around for a moment before realizing he wouldn't let you down. You stopped struggling as your toes rested on the sidewalk, wrapping your arms around his neck. You nuzzled against his shirt as he breathed heavily, his scent musty. “We're never going near the water.” You wondered why. “Never again, I swear.” His voice fell to a whisper, sniffles interrupting some of his speech. “I’ll never lose you,” he breathed. “I can’t.”


How do you comfort a frantic, crying flower? You didn't know. You sat on the other side of the room, sipping tea as his stem arched, pistil hanging as he seemed destroyed by whatever he had seen. Your chair rocked, sometimes hitting the back wall as you waited, patient as he tried to right himself. He wouldn't let you near him. When you woke up to him sobbing, he screamed at you to go away. So you did. 
“Flowey?” you called. He didn't respond. “I…” You raised your mug to your lips, trying to find words. You took another sip before deciding. “I love you.” It sounded like a coo to a child, and you grimaced at how it came out. Nevertheless, he stilled, leaves drooping. Maybe the reassurance was all he needed. You hoped that was the answer.


It was rather embarrassing to wake up with a surprised snort, but after covering your mouth and blushing, you found Frisk curled up in a tight ball at the other side of the couch. You called their name, but they only shook their head. Sighing, you scooted over to them, chest pressing against their back as you captured them in a backwards hug. You placed a chaste kiss on their shoulder before nuzzling your cheek against it, relaxing. That's when you felt them tremble. Underneath you, their chest heaved, shuddering with silent sobs. Your embrace tightened then loosened, signalling that you acknowledged their sorrow. You held them, breathing evenly as they cried. All you knew was patience.


He seemed emotionless as you sat in bed. All throughout your life, you were aware of the littlest of things. When something was off, you knew, and you could recognize it. But with him, you couldn't understand his coldness. He was silent in his chair, always facing away from you. When you called for him, he only shrugged a shoulder. When you touched him, he only sighed. His method to madness had melted and solidified into something more of a mess. You wanted to bring up the heat and reform him, again, but you didn't have the tools. You didn't have the experience, and words were just words. Throughout the rest of the day, he sat still while you tried to perform things that made you happy. Even with the shared soul and the little spark of enthusiasm you brought to it, he appeared dead. It seemed he just couldn't feel. So, you climbed under the sheets when night came back around, and waited for him to feel again. But he was scared to sleep.


Never in your life would you understand how he found your snoring, drooling form beautiful. But one morning, you awoke on your claimed chair in his apartment and noticed his glowing, white flames for eyes peering at you from the couch. When you asked him what was up, he just shook his head and told you that he couldn't help but stare. He complimented you as you fixed your hair and rubbed the sleep from your eyes. Even as you snapped at him, repeating the phrase “Just shut up,” he explained how thankful he was for you. It was a shower of appreciation you felt you didn't deserve, but one by one, they broke you. One by one, that brick wall was taken down. One by one, you ended up feeling defenseless. You didn't know if that was him, or an invisible force. You hated it, but you loved it. So did he.


Luu (Mad Dummy / Mad Bot):
Even though he was made of metal, and those pesky, sharp teeth of his middle constantly poked you throughout the day, he was very… cuddly. So, while reminding yourself to keep your arms around the upper portions of his torso, you sometimes accompanied him in his home, falling asleep while spread across a large couch. Depression was hard to get past, but you never let it be an excuse. You never thought that he may be experiencing the overwhelming images of his unconscious, too. Therefore, you were shocked to awake at the sound of him screaming - and for you, nonetheless. Tears you never considered imaginable slipped from his tightly shut eyes. His nails sunk into your skin, but by then, pain was just an aching you had become accustomed to. You struggled to get him awake, and once he came to reality, you said nothing. You knew what he was feeling, and as he clutched to you, his eyes held a far away look. You let him reminisce on all he had seen - that was the only way to heal.


“(Y/N), darling?” You hummed in response as he walked into the living room. In your head, you were pondering why he had awoken so early in the morning, but decided not to overthink it: you were awake, too. The recliner you had sat in tilted back, and you closed your book to look up at him, smiling. He didn't return it and you began to worry.
“Is something wrong?” He seemed to contemplate that, then walked around the back of the chair before setting himself on the armrest. Your hand raised to rub his back, but it paused mid-air then dropped. You didn't want to seem like a bother.
“If tomorrow never comes,” he said with an air of sorrow, “just know that I’m here. I've always been here. You're never a trouble.” Your eyebrows knitted together and you gathered your legs against your chest. “I'm going back to bed, now.” You watched him leave with no words to say.


MK (Monster Kid):
“Yo, (Y/N),” he rolled over under the sheets and you peered at him sleepily, one eye blocked by the pillow. “Was your dad a bad guy?” You were shocked by the question but smiled wryly, lifting a hand from under the sheets to stroke his cheek. One of his eyes squinted shut at the gesture.
“No,” you shook your head, strands of hair falling in your face. “He was just a good guy that did bad things.”
“Why?” His voice was airy, so quiet it barely carried through his breath.
“Because of me.” You looked off at the wall. His picture was hung there. “He wanted to give me the world, if he could. He just didn't know how unless it meant crime.” A small frown appeared on your lips. “He tried. I know it. He just didn't know how to do.” MK looked settled by this, and you couldn't understand why. Perhaps it was best to let it be.


“This is ridiculous,” she muttered as she lied beside you. You had been awake for a while, but hadn't wanted to disturb her.
“Huh?” you questioned more loudly than intended. She flinched.
“Dear, I…” You turned over in the bed, poking her back as she face away from you. “I’m such an idiot.” Your teasing ceased and you opened your mouth to protest, but she cut you off. “I keep living like one day I'm not going to lose you.” Her head turned in the slightest and you saw four eyes staring back. “I can't lose you.”
You grinned and snuggled against her back. “Muffy, I get your worries, but I'm not planning to depart any time soon. I’ll be here for as long as I live.”
She sighed, settling. “That's what I'm worried about… What happens after?” You didn't know how to reply, letting the silence grow before her breathing evened again and she relaxed against you.


Napstablook / Napstabot:
“So, tell me why you want to walk me to the library every day, again?” One of your eyebrows raised as you slipped on your shoes and pulled on your jacket. He had been very fidgety since knocking on your door, eyes never daring to meet yours.
“I want you to be safe… Oh… Am I being clingy?” You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. Back to stage one. You opened your arms for him, and he looked up hesitantly. He surveyed you cautiously for a moment before shuffling into your welcoming embrace. Once your arms were around him, he pressed his forehead against your shoulder. “I want to protect you.”
“I know, Blooky,” you cooed. Rubbing your hands in patterns down his back, you waited. For what, you weren't sure. But you did. For him.


Your phone clattered to the ground as the front door was attacked with loud, angry knocks. Grumbling, you swiped your device from the ground, surveying it for any cracks before shoving it in a pocket. You hurriedly scittered to the entrance, reaching for the knob just as equally strong punches met the other side. You waited for it to pause before opening. Your eyes narrowed as you saw Undyne, rather confused. She never visited you before, and you were pretty sure she didn't know your address… 
Her face was expressionless, but you could see the glint of concern in her eye as she took a step to the side and a revealed a destroyed Papyrus. His hands were clutched in front of him and he was shaking uncontrollably. When his skull lifted and he saw you, he didn't greet you with the usual, “HELLO, FAVORITE HUMAN,” but instead a quiet cry. He stumbled a few steps forward and you rushed forward to meet him, stretching your arms around him as far as they would go. Like his usual self, he lifted you into his own hug, but you heard his sorrow, and you noticed Undyne looked sullen. You wondered what had happened, but felt it was best not to ask. Your Papy had never cried, and you were determined to be able to say that again.


You wondered how you always had the heart to forgive him when he disappeared. Every time something went wrong, or he just didn't feel 100%, he would seemingly cease to exist. You knew the two places he most likely was, but felt like he always hid away for a reason. You let him keep those reasons to himself, understanding that space was a necessity with him. You had the feeling he couldn't exactly place your outlook of the sun and moon because when he went away, it would take days for him to come back. When he did, he acted like usual - like there wasn't a gap of time in which his presence was missing. You let him. You didn't know why, but he seemed relieved when you kept the angry, lecture-filled rants to yourself. He seemed comforted when you brought up the last conversation you had - even if it had started weeks before. It wasn't healthy to deny that you hated when he left, yet there was always something that told you, you needed to. You needed to let him have space in order to rearrange all that time.


“Dear, do you enjoy swimming?” You paused in your watching of Frisk as they painted with watercolors to consider Toriel’s inquiry from the kitchen.
“Not particularly. The deep end terrifies me, like what if there were sharks?” Her chuckle reverberated around the walls, but you could tell it was forced. Even Frisk seemed to pay attention to her, now.
“So, it's unlikely that you’d want to go swimming?” Your lips pursed and you glanced at the brunette child. They shrugged.
“Uh, yeah, I guess. Why?”
“Just a random thought,” she replied. You had a feeling that wasn't it, but let her be. She’d tell you if it was terribly important.


“Hey, you want to battle it out today?” You merely asked it as a joke, for it seemed every day she was up and ready to test you.
“No.” That surprised you, and you suddenly found it hard to focus on your TV show. “I don't think we'll be battling ever again.” Her voice wasn't cold or accusing, but light. Like she regretted something.
“Are you sure? You always seemed so pumped to -”
“(Y/N).” You looked at her, and noticed the softness of her features. The corners over her lips were barely turned down, but you noticed. “I'm done risking this.”
“Okay,” you smiled kindly. “Sure.” You wrapped your arms around one of hers. “Whatever you want,” you sung. She didn't smile.

Chapter Text

First Kiss:


The leaves were growing back, green and fresh, bringing some liveliness to the park of grey gravel and a steel playground. She sat on a swing, you taking on the dangerous dare of standing in front of her, giving her little pushes back. Every time she came forward, flying gently to you again, you had the urge to grab the chains. You wanted to stop her and just hold her above the ground, searching for a reaction. You wanted to be that cheesy lover that bent down and kissed her when she least expected it. But, by the small smile on her face and the way her eyes never left contact with yours, you knew she was expecting it. But she was waiting, and so easily. While your fingers trembled and found it hard to force any strength into a push, she sat. Her own muscles would twitch at points, leaving you aware that she, herself, was nervous. And it was so cute – that smile, irresistible. So when she came back for the seventh time, you conjured up confidence. When you reached to grab the chains, Newton’s First Law of Motion came into play, leaving you with an impending sense of dread. But, just as she fell back, she caught herself, expression stuck in a look of pure terror. Then, when all the shakiness resided, she began laughing. With that, you couldn’t help but laugh, too. And as your cheeks flushed red with amusement, you bent down and you placed your lips upon hers. It was silent as you closed your eyes, but thinking the world didn’t exist… Well, it made you take her for granted just a little bit more.


You were helpless. Under his kind, loving gaze, you always felt so at home. You felt warm, and alive. For you, he would do anything. And that left you feeling in debt. You had been wondering how to approach repaying him – some way, somehow – for weeks on end. You were sure he had noticed how stressed you had become, filtering Ebay or searching every inch of stores. He always gave you a grin when you hung over the dinner table, conflicted. He grinned like he understood. It was only when you were out in his garden and he handed you a small bouquet of flowers, did you know. As he waited for you to accept his endearing gift, your toes sunk into the soil, and although your hands were covered in dirt and fertilizer, they were yearning. And they desired so much, they stretched out and found him. Before you knew exactly what you were doing, your face was pressed against his and you were holding your breath. The moment you pulled away, your eyes flew open and your lips parted to regain breath. At the sight of the world, you found yourself choking, falling back into the dirt as the wind was knocked from your lungs. Then, you began crying, heaving gulps of oxygen, you managed to laugh. And you continued laughing, your face showing all the excitement you felt as your eyes wandered about the garden. Everything looked so new. And looking at him, you were overwhelmed. He was so beautiful.
“Asgore,” you breathed, grin splitting across your face. “Asgore, I can see.” He chuckled at that, dismissing it as your shock from the kiss. But that wasn’t it. “No, no, I can see! Your – Your eyes – Asgore, I can see their color.” He was pleasantly surprised, and shared your enthusiasm, hugging you close. Even as you cried against him, you kept your eyes open. You were positive that with this new revelation, you would never close them again.


It was like day one on repeat. You lied close to him in the patch of grass, strands tickling your exposed flesh as the wind swept by gently. The big ball of blindness in your vision sunk behind Mt. Ebott, its rays and signature halo of warm colors gradually draining from the sky to let the cold have its turn. It was a fair game of liveliness and relaxation, both the clouds and the stars corresponding in a hand-in-hand dance.
“Hey, Asriel,” you whispered, eyes trailing over to his form. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see your hand enclosed in his. He hummed in response, eyes never leaving the perfect gradient of light and dark. “Some say that the sun loved the moon so much, he would die every night just to see her shine.” You saw him smile, and he squeezed your hand.
His head shifted to where his nose brushed against yours, eyes peering curiously at you. It seemed like he was trying to find something in your irises, and when his smile widened to a grin, you had a feeling he did. “I would do the same for you.”
His voice was low, and you felt a pang in your chest, nose burning as tears threatened to slip. His expression contorted to worry, but you shook your head, squeezing your lids shut. You forced a gentle smile as you sighed. “You already have,” you breathed shakily. His hand left yours to brush across your cheek, moving any straggling strands out of the way. The atmosphere felt light, the only weight being you, and him. But, when you felt his lips press against yours, you suddenly felt like you were. And you never wanted to come back down.


Bleu (Nice Cream Guy):
The morning was young, and you enjoyed its youth with him, the usual mugs between your hands. Instead of pulling up chairs, you had moved the couch, snuggled under blankets as you sunk into the cushions. Your head was on his shoulder, chest pressed against his. Every rise and fall of his breath was met by one of yours. You could feel his heart beating against your hand that rested near his collarbone, secretly enjoying it when you shifted and its beating sped up. Your eyes were heavy, but your soul wasn’t as you watched the sun rise above the skyscrapers. Eventually, his own hand covered yours, and you glanced up at him. He was looking back, smiling as his eyes sparkled. You giggled at the cuteness of his expression and pressed against the couch, only following your instincts. He snorted as you pressed a kiss against his cheek, then his nose, then above his eye. His girlish laughing only ceased when your lips hovered over the corner of his mouth. You breathed deeply as he watched you, tensing as he waited for what was to come. That’s when you smirked and reeled back, twisting around to look out the window again. He let out a guttural whine, and poked at your shoulder.
“Tease,” he dragged, not stopping in his light jabs. You chuckled to yourself before turning again, grabbing him by the neck and pulling him down on top of you. He practically squealed in surprise, leaving you laughing so hard it hurt. He glared at you as you rolled underneath him, clutching your stomach. Your laughter was ceased when he finished what you had started. Good thing you had put the cocoa down.


BP (Burgerpants):
“Hey, sweet thing,” you purred as you leaned against the McDonald’s counter, other customers already growing annoyed as you tried whatever you were trying. You could see the cat’s shoulders sink, ears flattening as he expected the worst when turning around. You suppressed a laugh as he rotated in slow motion, fixing his shirt along the way. His eyelids were low, frown ever-present on his features until he sauntered over to the register and looked up. Immediately, he seemed wide awake when noticing your presence, grinning as his ears perked back up. You snorted at his excitement, going through with your flirty façade, pretending not to know him. “Say,” you drew, “you think I could get a latte with your name and number?” He deadpanned, face seeming to shrink as he tried to figure out what you were doing.
“This isn’t Starbucks,” he responded slowly, hands twitching as they hovered over the register’s screen. His ears flicked as you laughed.
“Oh, but you want to be a star and get those bucks, don’t you, hun?” You looked him over before smirking. “You sure could fit the job.”
“You’re going to get me fired,” he muttered, leaning a bit over the counter so you could hear, and you grinned. 
Your arms rested on the polished surface, one finger tapping as you stared into his eyes. You were sure the mischievousness you felt could be seen on your face. “I know,” you whispered back. Then you grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him forward, closing your eyes as you pressed your lips against his mouth. You counted to three before letting him go and standing up straight. He did the same, expression dazed. “Hold the latte, I’ll come back on your free time.” You snickered on the way out, hearing him stumble over his words as he tried to serve the next person in line.


It was a just a bad day in general, with the coffee maker not working, writer’s block, nothing good on TV, spilling tea on yourself, the upstairs neighbors fighting – everything that could annoy you was happening today. You sulked about this in a recliner, rocking back and forth as you wrapped a blanket tightly around your form. Chara had left for the store, and although you were still wary of their old persona coming out to play, you knew you had to trust them at some point. They weren’t an animal, and you couldn’t hide them from the world. You just had to believe in them. 
The dark and sudden quiet had begun to get to you, leaving you fearing what else could go wrong. You curled in on yourself, trying to hide your eyes from the world and pretend it wasn’t there. You didn’t get very far before the front door opened, shoes clicking along the hardwood before it shut again. Shuffling was heard as the person took off their coat and slipped their shoes by the door. Now, feet padded their way to you, something crinkling in their hands. When you peeked out from under your blanket, you noticed Chara standing before you, holding a bouquet of flowers. You smiled as best you could, spreading your arms to welcome them. They set the flowers aside and leaned forward, pressing their face against your neck. You hugged them as their breath brushed across your skin, and soon they had climbed in the chair next to you. You rested your forehead against theirs before leaning down and gliding your lips across theirs. “Thank you,” you mumbled as you dug into their sweater. They hummed a response, resting their hands on your back. This wasn’t so bad.


“Are you okay?” he asks you all the time because it seems you never really are. You wish you could be normal, concealing feelings without the worry of twitching and shuddering. He can see the fear in your eyes, the anxiety you hold at the simplest of things. He knows you better than you know yourself. And, sometimes, you hate that. It seems he’s constantly fawning over you, and you wonder if one day the Tourette’s just went away, would he still watch out for you? Would he still care? It’s an uphill battle, trying to tell yourself that he loves you, that he means it. You’re hoping you’ll never give up until the concerns surrender. 
“(Y/N)?” he calls, and you’re snapped back to reality. His hands are cupping your shoulders, and you can feel the knots in their muscle formed from your stress. Your neck feels tight, and you’re afraid to move your head. The world seems to move freely while you’re paralyzed, wondering if it will hurt when you try to shift. You don’t want to risk it, and instead gaze at him. “Do you need to sit down?” You close your eyes, refusing the usual shrug or shake of your head. You don’t want the pain, but the pain wants you. “Hey.” You open your eyes again and he’s closer, almost hugging you. Instead of wrapping his arms around your waist, he brushes his muzzle along the corner of your lips. You smile, and dare to lift an arm. A sigh of relief escapes your mouth as the muscles work painlessly with it. You’re free again as you run your hands along his face.


“Do you have a family?” Your eyes snapped to him as he uttered those words. You smiled through the tightening in your chest, trying not to glance at the picture frame near the front door.
“I have you,” you responded kindly, tilting your head to the side. You were about to return to your book when he said something else.
“What happened?” He was never so curious before and you wondered what had changed. It’s like a switch had been flipped and suddenly, he cared.
“I don’t know.” You shrugged, lips pursing as your eyes moved to the pages of the paperback. It was true, you didn’t know. “One day, they just didn’t come back.” A finger ran along the sides, daring a papercut to appear. “But, I keep waiting.”
“How? How can you hold the faith that they’ll return?” Your gaze was sharp when you looked at him, then you realized it was an innocent question. The softness of his features showed he wasn’t trying to hurt you.
“Because when you love someone, you’re afraid to let them go.” You forced a grin, trying to lighten the mood. “Plus, I never said goodbye.” You tried to make the comment sound like a joke, but it only came up choked. A vine uprooted from his pot, reaching for you, but you refused to let it grasp your wrist. “I’m fine,” you deflected, turning away from him.
“I’m sorry,” he said, and you wondered if he thought that would make everything better.
Huffing, you shook your head then leaned down towards the coffee table, placing a kiss over his mouth. “You always are.”


“I don’t get why we have all this paperwork when the JL’s been disbanded. And by us, nonetheless.” Frisk shrugged at this, resting their head in their arms. All the papers were spread across the steels table, coffee cup placed dangerously near them. What can you say, you like to live life on the edge. A pen twirled between your fingers as you read and reread the words of some agreement between the monster and human government. It all seemed so tedious, and sometimes you wished people just got along, but that didn’t appear to be the way the world worked. It left you thinking how your life would be if peace was the only factor – if violence and judgement was never an issue. Judgement…
“(Y/N),” Frisk called in their small, raspy voice. You smiled at their attempt to speak – they seemed to be trying a lot more often. “You’re doodling.” You looked back down at the paper and saw a bunch of hearts and smiley faces scribbled in the corner. 
You laughed half-heartedly. “I’m sure Asgore won’t mind…” Frisk clicked their tongue to regain your attention. It worked. They took the pen from your grasp, pulling the paper towards them. They sketched down their own, “Frisk <3 (Y/N)”, leaving you giggling. Although, eventually, you sighed and placed your cheek in your hand. “I’m going to have to reprint this.” Frisk reached out, grabbing one of your hands, then patting it. You shook your head at them before they leaned over the table, close enough that you could feel their breath. You held your own, feeling heat crawl up you neck. They pecked you on the lips chastely, then slumped back down in their chair, grinning as if they had just won a grand prize. You exhaled loudly, covering your face. You listened to Frisk giggle at your embarrassment, only loving the sounds of their amusement. That was the first time you ever heard them laugh.


You were planning on sleeping in, deciding you needed the rest after many nights of worrying about his depression. You had finally taken sleeping pills, tired of rolling over and dealing with nightmares, and the prescription hit you like a rock. You were sure you had been snoring that night. Although, when morning came around, something seemed to have woken you. As you opened your eyes, you weren’t fully awake, stuck between consciousness and unconsciousness. The first thing you saw was him, and to your groggy self, it was like a firework had exploded in your chest the moment you noticed he was smiling. You pulled your own lazy smile across your features, snuggling into the heavy comforter. He chuckled at that, moving closer as you watched him carefully.
“You were having nice dreams,” he told you, and you struggled to remember exactly what you had been dreaming about. “I’m sorry to have interrupted you.” You blushed at his politeness, missing this side of him.
“This is better than a dream,” you responded without falter, which seemed to shock him. “To see you happy, I mean.”
He shifted beside you, skull sinking into your other pillow. “Yes, I…” His white pupils moved away from your face. “I feel better today.” You nodded in acknowledgement before worming your way towards him. Before he had the chance to explain anything else, you placed a quick kiss along his jaw, silencing his thoughts. He couldn’t remember the last time his head had been silent, but he was grateful.


How could you kiss a head made of fire? That, you wondered. You honestly considered Googling it, but figured it (for once) would not have the answers you were searching for. So, you let the waves roll in your thoughts, debating this and that as he cleaned the bar. You were so lost in your inner battle that you hadn’t noticed him staring – if that’s what it could be called.
“(Y/N).” You were surprised when he uttered your name since he hadn’t spoken in a while. You hummed, brows furrowing as you examined his features. A flood of mortification came over you as you imagined what it would be like to miss his mouth. You tried to keep the internal turmoil at hand, pushing away all the “what if”s. He strolled his way to you, glass moving along with one of his hands until it clinked against all the others. At that point, he paused, looking up at you. You swallowed dryly, not knowing what to expect. And maybe that’s the light of it – not knowing.
Your heart raced as his gloved fingers grasped your chin, gently urging you forth. Your feet were on the danger of slipping off the barstool as you pressed yourself against the wooden counter. Ahaha, was it hot in there, or was it just him? He leaned forward to meet you, comfortably warm face meeting yours. You practically moaned as you found lips meeting yours, but it seemed to end all too soon. He pulled back, releasing you. You were frozen. How ironic. 
“When you’re talking to yourself, try to be quieter,” he suggested in that suave tone of his. You felt the tips of your ears growing hot.
“Aww, shit.”
“Sorry, mom.”


Luu (Mad Dummy / Mad Bot):
“When I was younger, I aspired to be Ronda Rousey,” you reflected as Luu flipped to WWE on the TV. He seemed to pause in his surfing, contemplating what you said.
“Who’s Ronda?” Your jaw practically unhinged at his question and your arms folded over each other.
“You don’t know who Ronda Rousey is?” He shook his head and you pinched the bridge of your nose. “I can’t even believe I’m dating you right now.” He scoffed at your comment, setting the remote aside. He opened his mouth to protest, but you rose a hand. “No, no. Talk to the hand, sir.” He growled, settling back into the cushions. Eventually, you lowered your palm, glowering at the screen and its current “wrestlers”. In your head, you noted that a pair of guys’ sheep masks were a nice touch. Heh, sheep.
“(Y/N),” he nudged, but you ignored him. You were still intent on breaking the forth wall by making jokes about the author’s name. He’d just never understand. “(Y/N), c’mon.” Y’know, the author really wishes they could’ve made their icon a pug. They love pugs. “Holy fuck, (Y/N)!” When you still refused to respond, he groaned, throwing a leg over your lap. That, of course, woke you from the dead. “Don’t ignore me.” You were about to tell him that the author does not appreciate being interrupted, but he cleared your arguments, pressing his fabricated lips against yours. This was surely better than fawning over sheep.


This was it. This was your moment. He was alone, slung across your couch and unsuspecting. You tried to appear inconspicuous as you strolled in the living room with a book in hand. You slumped into the furniture, right next to him. He barely acknowledged your presence besides with a simple glance and small smile. It was time to attack.
“Metta, hun?” His eyes went back to you, the pink dancing across your sly expression. “What are your lips made out of?” He chuckled, eyes closing in the midst of amusement. Your smugness dissipated inch by inch as he laughed, wondering if he’d ever tell you. So far, he hadn’t and you were beginning to lose sight of the resolution.
At once, his eyes opened, sparkling as he smirked. “How about we test them out and you can decide?” You, yourself, were on the path of giggling until you realized he was serious. How did you realize? Well, maybe his mouth against yours was a clear sign.
Your eyelids slid shut, and you forgot anything about those ponders of material. All you knew was that he was kissing you, and it was great. 


MK (Monster Kid):
Park runs, that’s what you liked to call them. It’s when you and MK took a break from the inner confines of his house to explore the wide open area of a near park. The place was huge and covered in perpetual forest, one path even leading to Mt. Ebott. You both had been walking for quite a while, and mutually decided to take a break on one of the conveniently placed benches. While relaxing, you had time to think about all you had done. From day one of meeting him, you were always a protector. A bodyguard. You hurt people so they wouldn’t hurt him. As you surveyed the scratches and bruising along your knuckles, you wondered if he was ashamed of what you had become. Even if your father had been in bad business… the apple can fall far from the tree. Apparently your fruit hadn’t.
You were shaken from your thoughts by his sudden advances. One moment he was just sitting, the next, he had leaned over and chastely kissed you. You were almost sad you missed the whole action of it. Unable to control your cords, a sentence slipped from your lips. “Do you even know what you’re falling for?”
He flashed you that lop-sided grin of his, head titling a bit to the side. “All I need to know is that you’re perfect.” You wondered where he was learning all these compliments, but laughed nonetheless.


“You look beautiful today~” Her compliment was harmless, but you were in a mischievous mood. It had been a while since you really messed with someone.
“I didn’t look beautiful yesterday?” She seemed taken aback by your comment and stumbled over her words. You giggled as she grew flustered. “Cat got your tongue?” you teased, and she glared at you, only causing more laughter to erupt. You pulled her close, wrapping her in a hug as you tried to calm down the hilarity of the situation, but your shoulders continued shaking as you held her. “I’m sorry, I – I just –” You struggled to breath and backed away, still clasping her shoulders. “Your face – You should have seen your – your –” You doubled over, cheeks sore from all the smiling you were doing. Your side was beginning to cramp, so you tried to breathe, closing your eyes until you regain the ability. 
Enlightened, you stood up straight with a lop-sided grin. She didn’t replicate your amusement, so you leaned down a bit and pressed your lips against hers. You watched her face flush purple while keeping your mouth shut tight, trying to contain the newly re-found delight. You went through another giggle-fit as she reached out to brush her fingers over her lips.


Napstablook / Napstabot:
“Mettaton suggested something, again…” You looked up from your laptop, pausing in your typing. The poor robot was blushing madly, causing you to pinch the bridge of your nose. The gullible sweetheart couldn’t help but listen to his cousin.
“If this is about the bed thing, I’m sorry, honey, but I’ll have to say no.” He seemed mortified that you brought the old subject up, covering his face in his hands. You sucked in a breath, resisting the urge to coo.
“Oh, no…” He peeked out between his fingers. “He said, in order to further the relationship and keep you happy, I… I should…” You set the laptop aside before standing, taking a few steps forward to meet Napstablook. You grabbed his wrists, but made no move to pull them away. He audibly sighed that electronic whirring of his and you reached a pair of fingers up to run through his hair. Rather surprisingly, he stopped your hand along the way, grip unimaginably strong. It seemed unlike him, and his eyes held some sort of shock as he stared at you. Then, his other arm straightened and he pulled you forward, connecting your lips. 
So, perhaps Mettaton is good for something.


Sitting on the couch, you rested your cheek against your fist, watching the TV blankly. Who was the murderer on the show again? You couldn’t remember. Maybe you just weren’t paying attention. Without a single thought, you answered his excited exclamations with a simple, “Yeah.”
You had no idea where the conversation was going, and honestly, maybe it was best you didn’t. “Sure.”
You didn’t even know where he was, but he sounded near. And why was he asking about spaghetti? You sighed. Always spaghetti. “Yup.”
Towards the end, his voice seemed to raise a few octaves, making you wince. “Uh huh.”
His tone was so high, it was barely anything but a squeak. It was cute, but your ears were ringing. Dating him was like taking care of a child, but you didn’t mind. It gave your life a little spice. “Mhm. Whatever floats your goat, darling.” Before you knew it, hands were on your shoulders, and his upside-down skull was peering at you. His expression showed pure enjoyment, and you started to wonder if he loved spaghetti more than you. Curiously watching his face grow closer, you decided, yeah, he probably did. 
Now kissing teeth wasn’t your specialty dish, yet it was far from some plastic-covered TV dinner. Heh, see what I did there? Anyway, you weren’t exactly a perfect Mary Jane, but he was starting to make you believe he was as amazing as Spiderman.


“Would you smooch a ghost?” You had been quoting Mettaton for the entirety of the day, just to see how far Sans’s patience could go. You were beginning to believe it was endless – actually, you knew that wasn’t true, yet didn’t want to go too extreme.
“Would you smooch a skeleton?” His voice was casual, and you sighed knowing you hadn’t broken any walls.
“I don’t know,” you dragged playfully. You tilted your head back to catch his gaze. Shrugging, you sat back up and glanced at the street. “Probably, I guess.”
“You guess..?” Who knew it only took playing innocent to grab his attention? You would definitely take note of that.
“I mean,” you placed the back of your head against your forehead, “it would take a very special skeleton.” Sighing dramatically, you laid across the wooden counter. There was silence for a few beats, and you wondered if he had fallen back into his usual rhythm. Nothing appeared to get to him, even after days of different tactics. Was it worth it trying to find some other side? 
“Are you gonna kiss me, or what?” Your breath was swept away, all the while, you couldn’t help but laugh. You sat up, turning to the inside of the stand, hearing the tapping of his foot.
“You could’ve just done it yourself, doofus,” you teased. Then, leaning down, you placed your palm against his cheekbone and pecked the top of teeth. You almost caught a glimpse of a blue blush, but he was gone only a second later.


“The Song of Silence” cover by Disturbed was probably the most beautiful thing you had heard in ages. With that said, you had it on repeat as you went about her kitchen, cleaning dishes and putting others away. You had been so caught up in the lyrics and your work, you hadn’t noticed her standing in the doorframe. It took singing along and spinning around to finally notice her, immediately blooming a bright blush on your face.
“I – I was just –” you tried to explain, but couldn’t think of a reasonable answer. She chuckled at your attempt, stepping all the way into the area while extending her arms. You already knew she was asking for a dance, and easily slipped towards her, intertwining your fingers with hers. She was smiling down at you as you swayed, trying to make up for your lack of dance skills. Frisk called it “Mom Dancing”, to which you would usually scoff, then agree. Towards the end of the song, you sank into the notes, barely noticing when she brushed her face across yours.
From the next room over, you could hear Frisk make a sound of disgust.


She hadn’t been paying attention to you all day, and you were beginning to get bored. Dancing around with your cat, your pajamas were loose and you constantly slipped on the hem of your pants. Your cat didn’t much appreciate the actions, so after a while you decided to set them down. Now, it was her turn to feel the annoyance that comes with your boredom.
“Undyne,” you whispered, peeking over the back of the couch. She didn’t turn around to meet you. “Fite me irl. I’m ripped.”
“(Y/N), you can barely hold a gallon of milk for more than five minutes.” You placed a hand against your chest, feigning hurt at her words. 
You crawled along the side of the couch, then peered over again. “I’ll 360 no scope you, scrublord.” You gave her double pistols, then dove behind the armrest as she threw a pillow at you. “I call hacks!”
“(Y/N).” She said your name with the utmost seriousness, and the slightest irritation.
“Hacker!” you called back. Grabbing the pillow, you wrapped it in your arms with the intention of throwing it back to her. Yet, when you looked up she was hovering over you. That’s one way to solve a problem. “Oh, hello.” Scoffing, she picked you up by your armpits, bringing you to a stand. You still clutched the pillow as you pursed your lips, unsure of how to approach the situation. Unbeknownst to you, you didn’t have much say in the matter as she bent down and pressed her lips against yours, clutching your shoulders tightly. When she pulled away, a wide smirk stretched across her face.
“Nerd,” she muttered as she moved for the kitchen.

Chapter Text

They Tell You That They Love You:


Looking at you, she could see greatness and potential. She could see compassion. You had more love for benevolence than she did for anime, and she knew that every time you helped an elder carry their bags, or gave up the last seat for a pregnant woman. On the bus, you would hold her hand, squeezing it every two minutes to remind her that you were still there and no one else was staring. If I child was crying over a lost balloon, you would buy them another one, moving the mother to tears as you tied the string around the child’s wrist and made sure they wouldn’t lose it again. She had seen your soul once, while you were sleeping. At first, she was terrified at the fact you only had half of one, then interested about the color. Unlike originally thought, your soul was not green with kindness, but pale blue with patience. Every night, she would stay awake in bed just to see your soul again. One night, she watched it from her pillow, noticing something off. As she sat up, it seemed the soul did too, floating upright and in circles. She grinned as she saw a full soul, lazily hovering above your chest. Interlocked were the two colors, green and blue. She laid back down again, nuzzling closer to you.
“I love you,” she murmured against your neck.
And, smirking, you replied, “I know.”


He was able to watch your smile when you opened your eyes every day, always grateful to wake up and still see color. Ever since your world was washed over in a paint bucket, you had grown less distant to it, and even closer to him. When Frisk visited, you let them lead you around the garden with Asgore and name all the colors of your favorite flowers. Over the stretch of a week, he was sure you had learned a bigger scale than the rest of the world had, and for that, your smile seemed permanent. He was worried one day when it disappeared, and you clutched the phone to your chest. Your eyes were missing their usual liveliness and you stared at the ground as if you were dead. Immediately, he had swooped in to take care of you, holding you as you remained silent. Although his warmth was usually comforting, it seemed you were senseless while his arms were around you. Your blinks were slow and breathing unsteady, but you tried to remain in control while he was around. Even when faced with death, you were determined nothing could affect you. He could see your strength, your perseverance, and knew it had been branded into your soul. He loved that factor of you. He loved every part of you. And when he tried to speak it out loud, you only hushed him with a small whisper of breath.
Nodding, your eyes lazily gazed upon his form. You smiled as best you could and with a dry throat you told him, “I love you too.”


The plastic bag crinkled in your grip as you fed off the crunchy rings inside of them, munching on the hill as Asriel took his usual spot beside you. He watched you curiously, peering out of the corner of his eye when he thought you weren’t looking. No matter the way you were scarfing down the snack like a rabid, starving rabbit, you let him look at you all he wanted. Once you started thinking you should probably slow your roll, you set the bag in this grass, rolling the top shut. As you leaned back, hands digging into the grass, you waited for him to say something.
Instantly, the words came from his mouth. “What are those?”
You hummed as if in thought, staring at the sky. “They’re called Funyuns. Specifically steakhouse onion flavor.”
He laughed, and you enjoyed the sound. “You just said a whole lot of words I didn’t understand.”
Scoffing, you brought the bag to your chest and hugged it gently. “Man, I’m not sharing. I love these things.” His eyes seemed to sparkle at the word “love”, and you could feel your neck tinging with heat.
“And I love you,” he affirmed, face turning to fully look at you. 
Blushing, you grabbed a few of the rings and stuffed them in your mouth. Through them, you spoke in a muffled voice. “I wuv you ‘oo!”


Bleu (Nice Cream Guy):
“I love you.” It came from his mouth like it was the easiest thing to say. Every day, he told you like it was nothing, like it didn’t matter. But it mattered to you. So, with that, you never responded. You were convinced words were just words, until something gave them life, and he had no vivacity when saying it. You waited for weeks, becoming restless for the moment he would prove his love instead of just stating it. 
And one morning while watching him serve customers across the street, you felt it was time. You were ready to hear those three words, and accept them, too. Despite not being able to read minds, he seemed to get the hint when he saw you smiling in the window. Pausing in his work, he unwrapped a certain cold treat then held up the wrapped for you to see. In bold, capital letters, the font spelled out “I love you.” Feeling your cheeks burn, you fogged the window with your breath then drew your own heart on the glass.
He couldn’t have been happier.


BP (Burgerpants):
He didn’t like his fast food joint’s meals, he told you that many times. Complaining about the smell of grease and heat of stoves, he confided that he was quite scared of the heat producing machines, fearing one day they’d singe his fur off. You laughed just to spite him, but really, you had been quite surprised when he let you lend an ear. And because of his fear for stovetops and disgust for frozen patties, you decided to bring him takeout during his lunch break. It was just sketchy Chinese chicken with rice, but you figured it was better than watching him choke down a hamburger. Something swelled in your chest as you watched his eyes light up, paws grasping the cardboard box like the present he always dreamed of. He practically scarfed down what you had left from your previous meal, making you a laughing mess as you set up base on your milk crate. In the midst of his fawning over the meal, he glanced at you. Through all that rice and cold meat, he brought on a wide, lop-sided grin.
And he said three words that you were sure had put a pause on the world’s spinning. “I love you.” It was there, and then it was gone. Drifting with the wind, you wished it would come back. You had reveled in that split second of pure joy, knowing of the unknowledgeable. 
To make the breeze change direction, you gave your own shot. “I love you too.” Bang. You both stared at each other happily, forgetting about the food. There was nothing more than the beating of both your hearts.


You stepped out of the kitchen, peaking into the small space by the doorway with curiosity that most definitely would have killed the cat. You watched Chara shuffle about, removing their jacket before folding it in there arm, slipping off their shoes and abandoning them by the wall. Your eyes sparkled as you noticed a small, sleeping kitten tucked away in their coat, and they smiled at your excitement. Carefully, they walked over to you and handed over the bundle of warmth, making sure you cradled it securely before letting go.
“Where’d you find them?” was your first question, but your eyes never left the ball of white fur.
“Out in an alley. They were huddled up in a box, figured I’d give them some real shelter.” When you glanced up, you noticed the small smile on your face. Seeing their small sign of joy, you felt an explosion in your chest. 
Not taking your eyes away from theirs, you grinned. “That’s really sweet.” There was utter silence as you both just stared at one another, taking in the warm atmosphere and the faintly wriggling animal in your arms. 
Moving to the top of their toes, Chara quickly pecked you on the nose and laughed. “I love you.” And while snuggling the kitten close to your face, you blushed and told them that you loved them too.


“Hey, Doggo.” Behind your back, you held a thin twig that you were sure would slice through the air and carry quite the distance.
“Yeah? What’s up?” His head tilted to the side a bit as he looked to you, ears twitching. You couldn’t help the smirk that formed on your lips.
“What do you think about the monster running for senator?” He seemed shocked that you brought up a serious topic, but easily complied, a smoking dog treat resting between his lips. If not for his clothing, you would’ve thought he was an old timey reporter, ready to give his take on the news.
“Well, I –” And that’s when you lifted your hand and easily swung the branch into the air. You watched with shock at how far it went, then began cackling as you noticed the pink, black and white blur that galloped after it. As soon as he went, he came back, although his expression now clearly held annoyance. In one hand, he held the stick you had thrown and raised it up so you could further examine it. “You know I hate when you do that.” Leaning down, he rested his forehead against yours, eyes locking. “But I do love you.”


“Remember when I told you that you make me feel?” It was odd he brought up an old, personal topic, but you nodded. “I realized what I feel.” Your eyes flickered from your laptop to him, raising an eyebrow. 
“Oh really? And what is it?” At your words, he became flustered, pistil flushing from white to a nice shade of pink. You almost wanted to tell him it complimented his golden petals wonderfully.
“I was reading some of your books, the ones you’ve been studying?” Now you were interested. You had been looking into psychology for quite the while and were considering getting a degree in counseling. What interest could he possibly found in your hefty textbooks? “Most of it I didn’t understand, but there was a section on personal relations.” His two leaves swayed with a nonexistent breeze as he directed his gaze away from you. “It said something about love, but not as a level of violence.” He paused, and you considered speaking up. He didn’t look comfortable. “More as a feeling. And it made so much more sense than anything else in that book. It was all clear.”
“So are you trying to say that I make you feel loved?” You tilted the lid of your laptop downwards, putting your full attention into him. His eyes met yours, and you could suddenly sense his courage.
“No, I’m saying that I… that I love you.” 
Laughing, you leaned forward and ran your fingers along his petals. “Oh, darling, I’ve known that for longer than you have.”


Toriel had been teaching you sign language recently so you could communicate with Frisk in a way that didn’t have to include a whole lot of charades. The first thing she taught you was what she considered the easiest, but most important. It was, “I love you.” And although you were embarrassed every time she made sure you could exactly copy her hand movements, you were also thankful. For, one night when you spread on the couch with Frisk at your side, you looked up at them. You could only faintly see their face in the light coming from the TV, and their gaze met with yours. With easy precision, you lifted a hand and signed them the exact phrase. Snorting, they had responded with the same motions, then leaned over and rested their head on your shoulder.
Blushing and pleasantly surprised, you admitted that you were almost 99% positive that you would’ve messed the words up. They shook their head at you doubts, and took your hands in theirs, tracing symbols only the two of you would understand. Somewhere along the way, you had both made your own language in love.


You were almost as nervous as him as you stood at the doorway of his two sons’ home, the feeling of being overdressed looming over you like a dark cloud. With one hand you held his, and with the other you tugged at the waist of your dress. He encouraged you wearing formal clothing but looking at the log cabin before you, you began to have your doubts. And when a stout skeleton with a blue jacket, basketball shorts, and bunny slippers opened the door, you were sure you were going to faint.
Fortunately, you didn’t and the sons treated you as normal despite your clothing. With one’s enthusiasm and the other’s laid-back attitude, you became comfortable and promised to visit again – and yes, you promised Papyrus you would bring along some of your own spaghetti. Walking towards your home, you noticed Gaster was still holding your hand and you didn’t dare to pull away. Knowing your thoughts, he gently squeezed it, a small smile cracking on his features.
“I realized something today,” he stated softly. You couldn’t remember his voice ever sounding so small. This piqued your interest. “I can’t live without you – and not just because of the soul ordeal.” Your palm was beginning to sweat and you wondered if he could feel it. “But because you’re so perfect and charming,” he glanced at you from the corner of his sockets, “and you’re overwhelmingly understanding, even when you’re not the one who can read minds.”
“It’s a gift and a curse,” you mumbled lowly, too scared to look him in the eye.
“And no matter what it may come as, I still love you.” You choked on air at his words, hand raising to your throat in panic. He only chuckled as you regained your sense to breathe, which earned him a swift smack when you were steady again.


He was feeling talkative so you had decided to make conversation. “I’m curious, has anyone else used the ‘you look hot’ pun on you?”
He seemed to think back as he rubbed the glass with a small cloth and you notice a slight pinch in his browline. How did he do that? “I believe there was a woman by the name of Christina once, otherwise, I suppose not.” His face tilted towards you. “Why do you ask?”
You shrugged, resting your head in your arms. The bar was always so clean and you wondered how much free time he actually had during his work days. “Just curious if anyone tried to steal my signature line.”
“Are you sure? Perhaps you are just making positive that you don’t have competition.”
Your eyebrows strung together, senses on alert. “Why would I have competition? You’re mine.”
You heard a quiet “ooo” come from him, then a smirk formed in his flames. “Possessive already?” Huffing, you refused to respond, tucking away your face in your sleeves. “Despite that, competition has already been eliminated because I am desperately in love with you.” If you looked up, you would sure he would make fun of the way your face had turned red. “Even when you curse like a sailor, as they say.”
“I fucking love you too, idiot.” You paused. “Also, your butt looks nice in those pants.”
“Why thank you. You’re so kind.”


Luu (Mad Dummy / Mad Bot):
“Do you have feelings?” It was just a random thought that came to mind, and it had bothering you all day.
“I asked if you have feelings.” He blinked, looking at you from the other side of the couch. He muted the TV as his eyebrows net together as one.
“Well, yeah, duh.” Your lips pursed and you looked him over, still doubting his statement. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“Uh, because you’re… you?”
“You mean a robot?” You nodded cautiously in agreement and he cackled. “Just because I’m made of metal doesn’t mean I’m nothing on the inside.” He gestured toward the orange soul between the two halves of his body, protected by a top and bottom row of sharp teeth. “I have soul, and I feel everything that you do.”
“Oh. Okay.” There was silence as you looked away, waiting for the TV’s volume to return. It didn’t and you found him still staring at you. “What?”
“Were you worried that I didn’t love you?” You scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest. He didn’t seem phased. “You were, weren’t you? That’s cute.” He chuckled, leaning across the couch and resting his face in the crook of you neck. “Nah, babe, I still want you with every fiber of my body.”
“Get off me, you pig.”
“Ouch, right in the soul.”


“How are feeling, darling?” Mettaton walked into your living room with a small cup of warm tea, knowing you hadn’t slept well the night before. It had been an unusually hard time, and were hoping to forget it happened sometime soon.
“Better,” you lied. And you knew he saw right through it, but he let you live in your façade, placing the warm mug in your hands. As you waited for it to cool a bit, his hands overlapped yours, and he surveyed you, worried.
“Are you sure?” You ripped your gaze away from his, refusing to really look him in the eye and let him see the truth. “I’m right here. Always have been. Always will be.” You nodded in acknowledgment. And even if his words didn’t settle in, he would be around to prove it. 
You took a sip from the cup, the liquid coating your throat. It had been tight with sorrow before, but now it was beginning to relax. Sighing softly, you placed the tea aside and curled into him. As if on instinct, his arms encased you, one hand running through your hair. While your eyelids steadily shut closed, he hummed to you. And just before the grips of sleep finally met your conscious, he whispered a soft, “I love you.”


MK (Monster Kid):
“Why did you save me?” He voice resonated through your dozing state and you opened one eye to look up at him. “Those two times I was surrounded by the JL members, why did you save me?” You wanted to tell him because they were scums, but you knew that wasn’t true. Behind every bad person was something leading them on, from anger to greed – even love. Thinking back on your father, you knew this for sure.
“Because nobody deserves to be a victim.” You closed your eye and settled back in his lap, thinking the conversation was over.
“Was it the same reason that made you the second time?”
“No. It was more than that.” Taking a deep breath, irrelevant images swirled behind your eyelids. “Even if you had let me go on my own, I still cared about you. And even if in that moment that the members were pummeled and in the ground, you decided you didn’t want me, I would do anything to keep that wish alive. I would do anything to keep you alive.” There was silence, and you wondered if you had said too much. As your stomach clenched, you waited for when he would ask you to get up so he could walk away.
“I love you.” You were shocked, but didn’t let it cross your features. Instead, you smiled and nodded. He was content.


The tree you were under had blossoms of pink, blending easily with the sunset that surrounded you both on the metal bench. Birds were chirping their lullabies, and crickets were finally beginning to drift in with the symphony. You wondered how you ever got to here like this, with her.
“How often do humans use the word ‘love’?” she inquired, and you didn’t think twice.
“In my opinion, more than they should.” She hummed at that, seeming to contemplate something. As she thought, you delved into the atmosphere again, enjoying the music of the night around you. You were beginning to see stars twinkling in the lilac sky when she spoke up.
“Would you take me seriously if I told you I was in love with you?” Blinking, your shoulders lifted then dropped.
“Yes. I mean, it’s a hefty word to just be throwing around anyway.” One of her hands raised to brush across your arm. “Besides, I can’t deny that I love you too.”
“Ahuhuhu~ What a romantic,” she purred and you grinned in response, leaning against her.
“More of a hopeless romantic. Keyword: hopeless.” Giggling, she gave you a hug from the side and while the world faded to black around you, she refused to let you go.


Napstablook / Napstabot:
“Hey, uh…” You glanced up at him as you shrugged on your coat, raising an eyebrow. “I’ve been wanting to tell you something.”
“What’s on your mind, hun?” you asked as you slipped on your shoes, fixing your hair before standing upright.
“I just heard a couple talking about it last night, and I figured I better tell you, too. Because, well…” He glanced at you warily and as he met your eyes, a teal blush covered his face. “I need to.” You smiled patiently and stretched out your arms so he could have hands to hold. Slowly, he took them, then looked down at the floor. You waited in silence as he worked up courage for whatever he wanted to say. “I – I love you.”
A grin instantly blossomed on your features, and you pulled him in for a swift, tight hug. While he was held against you, you could hear his quiet chuckling. And filled with the joy of his confession and the happiness in his laughter, you only pulled away to place a chaste kiss on his lips. You were sure this was only the beginning of something wonderful.


Lounging on the couch, you didn’t bother to look up from the TV as he rested beside you. “What’s up, Papy?”
“I NEED TO EXPRESS MY FEELINGS TO YOU, BUT AM NOT SURE HOW.” You snorted at that, then quickly covered your mouth with your hand. Once you were sure all laughter had been stuffed down, you continued.
“And you’re asking me for help because..?”
“What do you think about the word ‘love’?” His eyes shifted as he seemed to try it out in his head. You waited for his decision, not exactly paying attention to the television anymore.
Without thinking, a hand rose to your chest as if grasping at your heart. Even with his loud voice and constant excitement about life, he sounded serious. And it swarmed your heart further than you could ever imagine. “Love you too, Pap.” 


“Did you get a tattoo?” was his first wonder of the day as you sat on his stand, waiting for customers to swing by. 
“Huh? Oh yeah, sorta. It’s temporary.” You twisted your arm around to look at the underside, covered in a sleeve-ful of designs. “It’s called henna. It’s more commonly used in India, I think, for women’s wedding days.”
“So you’re planning on getting married soon? Why didn’t you let me know?”
You punched his shoulder, then sat back again. “Never in my life would I dream of marrying anyone.” You waited for the split second of offense to cross his features. “Anyone except you, of course.” And like that, his usual grin was back. After so long of being around him, you knew how to pull him a hundred different ways. You weren’t sure if that made you a sociopath, or just committed.
“Don’t you have to love someone to get married?”
It was your turn to put up the defenses and mask your hurt. “Are you saying you don’t love me?”
“I never said anything like that.” His pupils shifted, then returned to you. “In fact, I happen to love you a lot more than you might know.”
Smiling, you turned your head away to gaze out at the road. “How comforting.” His mouth shifted as he tried to speak, but you hushed him. “Save the puns for later, Skull Kid.”


“How are you today, dear?” She placed a small plate in your hands as she sat on the loveseat next to you. Nibbling on the small pastry, you thought over the events of the hour.
“Pretty good, I’d say.” Smiling and wiping away the few crumbs scattered around your lips, you continued. “Even better now that you’re home.”
She laughed at that, shaking her head. “How flattering.” 
In the background, you watched Frisk plug their ears. You quietly giggled at them before returning your sights back on Toriel. “How was yours?”
“It went smoothly, classes were quite calm today.”
You mumbled through the sweet, nodding your head. “Mmm, thaz gud.” She narrowed her eyes at you and managed a small lecture about not talking when your mouth is full, leaving you viable time to continue to peacefully munch on your snack. By the time she was quiet, your plate was empty.
“I’ll take that for you.” And while she reached for your plate, you grasped it in your hands and moved it away from her.
“No, I got it this time. You relax.” She didn’t have time to argue as you practically flung yourself at the kitchen and out of her reach. When the plate was washed and set in the sink, you wandered back and plopped down beside her. Sighing, you leaned your head against her shoulder, glancing at the book she was currently holding.
“I love you,” she stated.
And without hesitation you replied, “I love you too.”


“Undyne,” you dragged her name as you hung upside down on the couch, feet swinging in the air. With one hand, she grasped your ankles and ceased their movement. Groaning, you rolled over on your side and curled into her lap, digging your face into her stomach. She shook her head at you childish actions, but remained otherwise calm as the anime continued to play on screen. “Undyne,” you called again, voice muffled by her shirt. “Love meee!”
You rolled onto your back and found her gaze directly on you. Suddenly feeling flustered you tried to look anywhere except her. “I do,” she said, then moved her eyes back to the TV.
Speechless, but craving more, you decided to play the innocent card. “You what?”
“I love you,” she said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Perhaps it was.
“Really?” you squealed and she clamped a hand over your mouth.
“Yeah, now shut it so I can watch this.” You gave her two thumbs up, then wondered if she was going to remove her hand any time soon.
“Uhhh, Undun?” She didn’t respond. “Undun!” She refused to pay you any attention. Huffing, your crossed your arms and proceeded to watch the television from the corner of your eye. “Durn you, Undun.”

Chapter Text

You Self-Harm / Contemplate Suicide:


“I understand, and I’m here for you. Whatever you need.”


“You’re so beautiful, why poison your skin with temporary pain?”


“This is going to be hard to work through, but who said it was going to be easy?”


Bleu (Nice Cream Guy):
“I hear ice cream really heals the soul! And, sweetheart, so does love.”


BP (Burgerpants):
“I’d do anything to protect you, even if it’s from yourself.”


“Those scars don’t define you. Don’t let your struggle become your identity.”


“We’re going to fight through this together, no matter what.”


“When that evil comes out to play, I’ll be here to ward it off.”


“You are not alone.”


“How can you let something so exquisite and made from the finest stardust crumble through your fingers? Hold on, darling.”


“Just hold my hands and let time run its course.”


Luu (Mad Dummy / Mad Bot):
“Do I need to beat up your inner demons again?”


“I’ll give you support until you’re strong enough to be the real star.”


MK (Monster Kid):
“I’m right here if you need me.”


“Don’t hurt yourself with yesterday’s mistakes, this is now. With the present, we’ll find a way.”


Napstablook / Napstabot:
“Want to snuggle until you feel better?”




“It’s rough, kid. But we understand each other, that is what's important.”


“Why don’t we put that down and paint instead?”


“Battling against yourself, I see? C’mon, punk, let’s get through this shitty patch together.”


As you can see, these are not the normal scenarios. For what reason? To talk with you. Not at you. Not to you. But, with you.

Life is a bitch. By now, everyone knows that. Even when it seems everything is going right, it turns on you and makes something bad. It fucks up chemicals in your brain, kills your car, or takes away your best friend.

I get it.

I personally have my own share of problems, and I’ll tell you, so many times have they gotten the best of me. With them, I live a little on edge. But I’ve come so far, and for the first time, I know what I want to do – for real. I feel like now is not the time to give up, neither is tomorrow, or the next day, or the day after that.

No day is worthy of you giving up.

And I know it’s going to be difficult. When you feel like you can’t stand, something will force you to keep on your feet. That doesn’t mean you twist the rules and sit on your knees. You stand. And you keep standing until it doesn’t bother you anymore.

You have to have a little determination, kid.

And if you struggle with internal thoughts that beg you to become self-destructive, I get it. They will tell you that you are alone, that no one cares, that you deserve it. But darling, you don’t. I swear to god, I’m right here. And there’s millions of people out there in the world that would love to help you, too. 

I know what it’s like to assume that is the only thing that can give you just a little bit of release. I know that sometimes it’s hard to clench your fists and tell yourself “no.” I know. I’m not going to make you promise to stop because that’s not how this works. But the next time you reach for something to hurt yourself with, remember that I love you. Remember that I can give you a thousand different ways to approach that rawness you feel, and you don’t even have to see yourself bleed and bruise and hurt. And darling, you don’t have to hide.

You won’t have to hide.

This life is a battle. Along the way, you’re going to come into contact with things you don’t want to challenge. But if you don’t swing, it’s going to hit you. And hit you. Until finally you won’t be sure that you can get back up. So take that chance, follow your gut. Your instincts understand a lot more than you may think they do. Your heart and your soul can be the guide in this crazy zoo of life. And you can always get back up.

Sweetheart, if you ever need someone that won’t judge you for those scars or that sadness you feel, I’m here. I’m always here. I won’t leave you. You just have to promise me something.

Be the hero you always wanted. In the end, the only one that can save you is yourself. I’ll just be there to pick you up along the way. Whenever you need me.

I’m right here.

Chapter Text

Cuddling: Romantic Snuggling Edition!


Most often was her back pressed against your chest, one of your arms thrown over her waist. You would rest your cheek on her shoulder, watching as she sifted through multiple social media apps and anime forums on her phone. Even when she shoved a hand in your face, blushing wildly as she accidentally revealed some yuri in her photo gallery, you kept holding her all the same. You could love her even with her odd curiosities and ever-expanding fascinations. So, you continued to relax against her, closing your eyes and just enjoying her scent, her warmth, her everything. She was your everything, and you never wanted to let her go.


When color came to play, you were sure you could spend each and every one of your days outside. And so, you did. Asgore would join you a majority of the times, wrapping an arm around you and letting you lean into him. The air was always fresh and crisp, flooding with smells from daisies to roses, and the sharp hint of something more on his clothing. You never could quite put a name to the musk he carried around. Yet on the mornings he snuggled next to you, it didn’t matter. There was just him and the rainbow scheme of the world around you. Nothing more needed to be sought upon.


He visited your house more often since his nightmare, and that usually ended up with him staying the night in your home. However, that rarely resulted in waking up next to him in the morning; while you loved sunsets, he loved sunrises. So, with the time before the moon began to fall, you remained close, holding his hand beneath your comforter, too shy to press yourself any nearer. You always dreamed of just wiggling your way into his side, but dreams were never reality, and reluctance kept it in check. Hand-holding appeared to be enough for him, although you did push to an extent where you would interweave your ankles with his one night. Afterwards, it was common to become interlocked at the feet and hands. It was common to feel safe and loved with the simplest of touches, even if you craved so much more.


Bleu (Nice Cream Guy):
Couch cuddles were, in your opinion, the best cuddles. It never changed. After reversing the furniture and placing the sofa by your favorite window, you refused to move it back. From that point on, you would face the struggle to make room to lie down for the both of you. As time passed, you soon learned that you could mush yourself against his body, thus making you a warm, huggable, and wall-like companion that left enough space to where no one would fall off. Sometimes you had to make adjustments, but if it meant being close to him and watching the world from the other side of the glass, you could handle it all.


BP (Burgerpants):
He would whisper to you. He would tell you stories in a low voice, or compliment you on various things. It seemed every time you sat next to him on the loveseat, he had something new to tell you, and only you. You would straddle him, resting your head against his chest while he kept his volume low as if trying to hide his words from the world. His hands would lock at the end of your spine, the side of his face resting against yours, lips moving slowly, barely, as he breathed sentences upon paragraphs. And when hair got in the way of your ear, he would gently tuck it back, not risking any obscurities in your hearing. All he wanted you to feel was the power such a discreet expression could commune in the most silent moments of your existence.


They brought you flowers almost every day, as if they had to make up for something you didn’t know about. You told yourself it was paranoia without evidence of foul play, and they simply wanted to give you nice things. You were reassured of this when they took the time to crawl in your lap, resting against your body. As you sat, only keeping them close with your arms, they would hide their face in your neck, almost seeming embarrassed to show affection. Yet, when they began trailing kisses along your flesh, you realized it was no act of timidity at all, but instead another symbol of love. You enjoyed every second of it, letting all those concerns wash away. When their warmth became one with yours, all that suspicion seemed like meaningless fiction created by an insecure part in your imagination.


Much like a real dog to its mate, he would bathe your face in slobber while lying close. At first, it was rather disgusting and your uncontrollable twitches expressed your discomfort, but over time he learned to control saliva and make the swipes practically as dry as a cats. Although some found it disconcerting and odd, it only took a few intervals for you to take it as something endearing. You were sure love was always different, and if yours included disparities between the cuddling situation, that was okay. You didn’t mind the weird looks when you could tell he loved you. It just meant you had to shower more often.


It was painful at points, but small cuts were manageable if it included being able to be close to him. His vines were covered in thorns, rather large ones, might at I add. But to hold you as close as humanly possible he had to take control with them, the only hands he had. Their sharp edges were irritating to your flesh, but they never broke skin, leaving you turning your head away from any discomfort. You were willing to do anything to become closer with him, even if meant hurting yourself along the way. It was a dangerous relationship, but you couldn’t get enough.


They weren’t a person that expressed feelings openly. If you wanted to know their emotions, you had to pry. You weren’t fond of prying. So, when you felt something was off about their aura, you reeled them in, capturing them in a backwards embrace. And you wouldn’t let go. No matter their struggles or grunts, you refused. It would never take long before they gave up in getting away and instead became lax in your arms, cupping their palms around your hands and rubbing their thumb along your nails. You would wait for minutes, trying to sense if the atmosphere and invisible cloud around them would become lighter. Most often, you would forget you were paying attention to their personal feelings at all, instead becoming invested in how close they were to you. It wasn’t rare that you kept them close as long as possible, even when you knew you should probably let them go. You were always afraid of letting that cloud come back.


Being close was not his etiquette, used to living a life of solitude and blackness. It took a lot to persuade him into even holding your hand, or brushing his fingers through your hair. Eventually, you gave up try to force feed him lessons about love and instead took a stand, inclined to show him how to affection worked through actions. You were a touchy person, comforted by the fact that what you loved was still solid, still real. You would always hug him from behind as he sat at your desk, arms wrapped just below his sternum and face resting in the collar of his turtle neck. When he was feeling deprived, you would sit in front of him and trace the crack running up from his eye, letting him rest his forehead on your chest as his sockets closed. And when he shook and jerked with the nightmares the void brought as he dared to catch a wink of sleep, you would struggle to keep him near. You did everything you possibly could to present the point that he was loved.


Ever since you were a child, you were told that you were good for nothing. And growing up in a shady part of town, not knowing right from wrong in the light of morals, you began to believe it. In the younger ages, it was hard to swallow the thought that everything was not about you, but against you. Yet, as the months turned to years, you accepted the fact that most people never saw you as anything except another consumer. When you met Grillby, however, that was proven wrong. He made you feel beautiful, and even when you came back into his bar with a frown that proved your family was still insistent on harking, he brushed the hair from your face and whispered that he loved your smile. When you screamed that you’d rather die than let your relatives continue on, his arms wrapped around your waist and he pressed his face into your stomach, his warmth radiating and transforming into something much more than just external heat. It became magic that filled the chasm in your chest with happiness, relaxing your muscles and telling you that you deserved something better than those painful thoughts in your head. He gave you a reason to live as someone who wasn’t named “Nobody”.


Luu (Mad Dummy / Mad Bot):
You had your days that were filled ironically with emptiness. When your eyes refused to meet his and you tucked yourself away, he knew. He would give you distance, at points, but he, too, needed love. The only way to receive that love was through you. So, no matter your objections, he would slip under your blankets and press himself against you. He would rest his head on your shoulder and his hands would wrap around your waist, breathing in, breathing out. Those were the times in which you didn’t know how to feel, always being so shut off and solid. You were never weak, you never projected your struggles. But he brought them out in you, and then he protected you. He shielded you from the darkness of the world until the darkness in your head seeped out to merge with it. He guarded you, and in return, he was loved.


You found out, early on, that he loved piano music. It shouldn’t have come as such a surprise, with his common moments of attempting to serenade you, but walking in to him lounging on your loveseat with a glass of wine and calming notes playing in the background, it wasn’t something to call normal. He suggested you join him, and from then on, it became a routine. You weren’t sure where all the red wine was appearing from, yet decided not to question it after a few days. So, with a glass resting in his hand and his other arm occupied by holding you, he would indulge in not only the warmth of the music, but yours as well. It was easy to love him, and while his personality was rather flamboyant at times, he knew how to breathe.


MK (Monster Kid):
It seemed the fights you had previously become a part of in attempt to save him left more scars upon your soul than his body. Constantly, you had the urge, the itching, to inflict harm upon all others except him. It was like an overwhelming instinct to protect, and you knew he was getting not only tired of it, but worried too. Your mind was entranced in the thought of smashing your knuckles against someone's face, or in their gut, watching them fall to the ground and struggle for breath. Glaring at a woman and her child from across the restaurant, you realized just how serious your dark desire was. He leaned against you, resting his head on your shoulder. The muscles in your neck relaxed, the anger in your face slowly draining away. Although you kept your fists clenched, your breathing steadied while he was close, enjoying the bit of warmth that was radiating from his sweater. It wasn't difficult to realize you needed help, yet, you'd wait until he was out of your reach.


She was impossibly interested in your hair, never resisting running her various fingers in between the locks. It was an enjoyable action, and most often you'd lie in front of her on the couch while her hands sifted through strand upon strand. Her quiet humming would breeze softly on your eardrums, your heart beat soon syncing with the tone from her throat. It was like a small challenge of not falling asleep with her soft touches and lack of proximity. Most often, her skin was cold, providing a relief from the humid air of your home. And while some fingers traced your spine, veins of chills would spark and continue up to your shoulders, sometimes causing a slight shiver. When your muscles twitched and shuddered at her caresses, you would hear her breathy "ahuhuhu~" of a giggle and realize how much you loved the sound of it. With a racing pulse, you knew you were falling hard.


Napstablook / Napstabot:
He was slightly uncomfortable with others, that was a given. But, one day he became overwhelmed, breaking into tears at a park. You immediately became concerned and directed him to your home. Once inside, you lead him to your couch and had him sit. You followed suit, but made sure to keep a bit of distance in between your bodies just in case. You cooed his name, quietly, softly, but he just brought his hands to his eyes and attempted to hide the tears that were falling. Your heart dropped. You reached for his wrists, and simply held them loosely, giving him the decision to take his palms from his face or keep them solid. You remained still, but your voice did not go unheard. You whispered calming, sweet thing to him as he steadily calmed. Although his body continued to quiver, you tugged him into an embrace, arms wrapping around his back. You rocked him slightly side-to-side as he continued to become more hushed. Soon, all that could be heard were faint sniffles, and although your flesh was burning with the acid in his tears, you smiled. You were his happiness, no matter the pain.


You weren't fond of rising in the early AM, but he was. And while you slept, he often granted himself access into your home, attempting to gift you with a nutritious brunch. That brunch being spaghetti. You had your lazy days, where you would hear his ruckus in the kitchen but not bother to check in on him. Those were the days where he would desperately attempt to get you out from the sheets, and each time ended up with you still in them. With brunch forgotten, he would lie down beside you and stare at the ceiling. That granted you with lots of cuddle opportunities, which you always took. Snuggling against him, he would loop an arm around your shoulders and if you ever glanced up, you would see a smile on his features. It was adorable, not to mention irresistible.
That's why lazy days happened often.


It was hard for him to warm up to you, no matter how in love he claimed to be with you. If you had to tell someone his most prominent trait, it would be distant. You weren't sure if he turned the cold shoulder on others, and had your moments in which you doubted yourself. You wondered if he, in fact, did not love you at all. You wondered if he was getting "close" in order to learn your weaknesses, your strengths. Most often, you wondered if he was using you as some sort of sick experiment. It was unethical to believe he might be conducting you in research, but with your constant nightmares, you could never debunk the suspicion. It seemed well-hidden paranoia ran deep in your relationship. Yet, that didn't mean physical contact had to suffer. For as long as you could, you would tuck yourself into his coat, curling up on his lap, enjoying the sort of magical warmth that came from being near him. It was those moments that made all your silly little thoughts appear unreasonable. And while he whispered lyrics that seemed slightly off and strangely coincidental to your life, you could enjoy the deep rumbling of his voice. No matter the heart-racing fear, there was also heart-racing love.


To Frisk's dismay, you and Toriel were almost constant cuddlers, staying as close as possible in all times of the day. From linking arms, to cuddling up on the reading chair, it seemed you both were practically attached at the hip. You adored her, and she admired your adoration. While others found it undeniably cute, you felt safe in her presence. As long as your range was less than five feet, your soul felt comforted. With her accompanied a sort of peace, even when her features contorted into furrowed eyebrows and a deep frown. You would grasp her arm no matter the situation and her feelings, determined to show her just how far your love went. Your friends called it the "honeymoon stage", but you weren't so sure. No matter if it was day or night, you needed her, however unhealthy that sounded. Without her, you felt vulnerable to the darkness of the world. So, you clutched her sleeves like a small child and cherished the moments where she nuzzled her nose against your neck. She was your comfort zone.


Lately, she had seemed afraid of touching you. That left you with little to no contact from her, ranging from kisses to hand holding. She even threw away the usual grasping of your thigh. You were becoming desperate for the feel of her skin again, and began to scheme. That lead to a night in which you stayed in her home, crawling into bed with her. After you were sure she had fallen asleep - small snores filling the vicinity - you brushed your fingers against her arm. Then, you pulled away and rolled over. Each night, you progressively got closer to her sleeping form. Steadily, your gentle caress of the fingers became hands trailing up her sides. One midnight, you gathered to courage to make a move and press yourself against her. Your throat tightened when her muscles tightened at your embrace, but it was only moments before her hand was on the back of your head, combing through your hair. Smiling, you felt at peace. You had broken down whatever barrier had been built up. With her, it felt like a real accomplishment.

Chapter Text

Letters to the Lost Taken

I guess there's no easy way to come clean. So here I write these things for you, to be dirty.
And yet at the same time, to be cleansed.


I had the desire to tell you about every perfection that I saw upon your face, just as much as I did every day before I knew what words to use. What words to please you. Because somehow you are more beautiful than anything my hands have ever held. And while that intimidates me, I have an itching you don't realize the extent of your beauty. So perhaps I am afraid I do not deserve you for the things that render me speechless, but I will build a mirror into my eyes so one day you might look into them and see what I see. One day you might love yourself too.

If you've never heard the beat of a heart you love, then you've skipped out on listening to your favorite song. Because when their face shows no emotion, their heart could be beating hard. Not fast, just roughly. Like how they knocked upon your door, after days of not seeing you,  or a young child just learning how to run. And sometimes it's racing, however quietly, lightly. Like a hummingbird in sight of a flower, or their fingers dancing on your back. You should know, however it may be beating, it is still music to you.

Everyone's told me to just enjoy the summer forget about the person you left behind. But every time I look at the sunset all can think of is them. And every time I watch the stars all I can think of is them. Every time I pick a flower and tuck it in my hair all I can think of is them. Every time the horizon lights up with passing cars and people's houses all I can think of is them. Every time shirts and jeans slip off my body all I can think of is them. Every time I lie in the dark grasping at sheets all I can think of is them. Please tell me how I am supposed to forget about someone who reminds me of everything beautiful.

You must have rain, to sprout flowers. I must hold you at your worst, to see you at your best.

Days; I crave your lips, your hands, your chest against mine. Nights; I crave your fingertips, your plans, your half-lidded eyes.

How do I say it without saying it? Through nervous laughter and swelling stomachs. Anyone could speak the words you do, but my heart only flutters at your voice. Your laughter makes me weak; it gives me a solemn happiness. Because I ache for you, but my eyes glow knowing that I've brought you joy. You could spend hours just humming and I would remain enthralled as every minute passed. Compliments spill from your smooth lips like a cure to each of my ailments. You grant me immortality, and yet also compel me to feel alive; if I had to live forever, I would live forever with you.

You, yourself, are a flower. Fragile under fingertips, and yet so beautiful. You bring colors that nobody else can replicate. Soft, but resilient; some see your petals, and others see your thorns. Tell me. How you can be everything at once?

I just want to write pretty words that might help you understand what I feel. I just want to write pretty words so that you might read them and love me even more.

"You make me feel indescribable things," was what I whispered. As I caressed your face with my fingers. But the truth is that I knew what I wanted to say. "What does that mean?" you questioned me as if it was so simple. "I can't say it, it's not the right time," I told you and you asked me why. "Because it's what society taught me." And we left it at that. But it wasn't my peers that I had learned from. More so, it was my fear. Of falling too quickly and scaring you away. It was my fear that kept me silent. And sometimes I'm glad I was not blessed with fluid speech.

I feel as if you teach me how to breathe. With every sweet whisper, or touch of your hands. And even the sight of you. I feel as if you teach me how to breathe. Panting, gasping, sighing, heaving. And I've been underwater for too long.

Luu (Mad Dummy / Bot):
Some days your words glide like poetry, and on others, make me want to scream. I have punched far too many walls for you, not knowing what I wish it really was. But I have also had my heart swell for you, something I'm still not quite used to. You give my feelings mood swings, on spectrums that can only be told through poetry.

I've never loved you more than the moment when you pulled away and I held your chin, directing you back, begging for more, and you complied.

MK (Monster Kid):
Like a child with their teddy bear, I carry your jacket. Even when you're not around, I still seek comfort in you.

I can't decide if I want to kiss you out of love or out of lust.

I lack the courage to tell you that your harmonies are now the low hums I play to lull me into a sleep where I dream of you. It is both a blessing and a curse, to see you there. Because I can hold you, but you will hurt me - either with blank eyes or venomous tongues. Yet, I awake to a familiar melody and I know it's not true. Your passion has become my discernment between a reality where you live and a fantasy where you don't.

Your quirks are what make you human. And I love being alive.

Explain to me how I can ever pinpoint one thing to write about you, if you are so full of complexities that I will never be able to describe in any dead or alive language. You are the living example of every mystery even the geniuses can't answer; the phenomena that stumps researchers for decades. You are the constellation that people can only catch glimpses of once a year - mysterious, frustrating, but beautiful nonetheless. No one will ever be able to put your existence in to words, for you are much more than anything that can be written on a page.

You blushed and asked me why I was staring as a yawn slipped from your lips. I breathed, "I can never get tired of looking at you." And I couldn't help but think about how much I sounded like a cliché, the type you read about in fiction books, and see in movies - or Shakespeare's plays. But I decided that, if it would allow me to see your smile, I would plagiarize every day.

I continued, but only to see, where your arms would land, before they pulled me closer. I continued, because the thing I loved most, was how your embrace responded - was timing the moment, your fingers would become frantic.


A/N: I decided to rewrite the "Letters to the Lost" chapter with poems that shone a better light on relationships. I have long since fallen in love with my boyfriend, and although I know he will most likely never read all of this poetry - as I am much too timid about my writing - I made it as heartfelt as possible. I hope you enjoyed reading.

"Love will come, and when love comes; love will hold you, love will call your name, and you will melt. Sometimes though, love will hurt you, but, love will never mean to. Love will play no games, 'cause love knows life has been hard enough already." - Rupi Kaur

Chapter Text

Love is ___. (Valentine's Special)



Love is holding her hand when her body begins trembling with anxiety. And you hold her hand despite the wrinkles of her mitt being covered in a layer of sweat. Her eyes flicker from you to the subject that is making her nervous. She focuses so much on the warmth, the stickiness between your palms that she forgets why she's shaking. All of the sudden, her shoulders broaden, brows coming together as she concentrates on her words. She is no longer fumbling her tongue, her fingers stop fidgeting. She ceases glancing over at you for confidence. She found her zen, and you smile down at her.

Love is how you handled his favorite flowers with deliberate, gentle movements. He recognizes that you caress his face in almost the same manner; tenderly, and with a grace unmatched by any human or monster he has ever met. Everything you do is handled in such a way that it always seems like you are trying your best not to harm anything. Most days he believes that you are benevolent god, but one that is denying it is a god at all. You would laugh at him if he told you that, call him silly for such thoughts. But you're too beautiful, he knows, to just be human.

Love is how you climbed a hill every day just to see him. You never once complained about having to stress your knees to reach him, or the beads of sweat that trailed down the back of your neck when you finally met him. While he only rested at the top, you spent each morning and night scaling the slope. And it was all just to see him. He never understood you, but it was flattering. And he would hold you despite your soiled clothes and your hair becoming unkempt from the wind. You were perfect because you fought ridges to be with him. In return, he could only hope he would defeat mountains to be with you.

Love is how you only smiled at him, even when many different people gathered at his cart. You treated customers kindly, giving them the proper respect, a welcoming gaze. But when your eyes met his, your lips stretched and pupils widened in such a way that it gave him a rush. When you looked at him, grinned up at him, it was like the rest of the world disintegrated. All he knew in those moments was your face, your blushing cheeks, your sparkling irises. And though it might be selfish, he knew it all was only meant for him.

Love is the late nights spent cuddling on a balcony. He would flick ash off his cigarette, and despite you lightly scolding him about his bad habit during the day, you would let it go once night felt. You would watch the small clouds of smoke drift off into the skyscrapers, all while keeping your arms wrapped around his waist. The lights of other buildings kept your face dimly lit, and he could see the wonder, the amazement in your expression. Even when you were often met with this exact scene of the city, you treated it like it was a new experience every time. And it was all because his warmth surrounded you and gave you life. Nothing wonderful could ever die in his presence.

Love is holding them despite their anger. And they had so many fits of it - shaking, hate-filled fits. Their fists would clench, shoulders set high. Their face was stoic, but you could feel the hot air that radiated off of them. And you would grasp their clothes despite the warmth. You were not scared of them hurting you. You knew in your heart, they would never be capable of doing as such - not now. Your arms wouldn't loosen from their back until they melted, silently sobbing in your shoulder. They became a puddle in your embrace, and you would shush them, telling them it would be okay. It would be okay.

Love is loving him despite his inability to fully comprehend what love truly is. Because for the longest time, he understood it as an amount of something, not a feeling. And even on the days he got it confused, when he treated you like an achievement instead of a partner, you accepted him. You would teach him and lead him back to the right mindset. Love is not a prize, you would say to him. Love is something that is earned, that grows, just like most flowers do in a garden. And some days, the rain would not come, and the sun would hide, but that didn't mean the flowers would stop growing forever. That did not mean the flowers would die. It just meant they would thrive even more when their thirst was quenched and they captured the warm, golden rays, again.

Love is writing notes back and forth on napkins. Because some days it was easier to talk through written words, rather than spoken. You both seemed to communicate more deeply that way. It's like the paper allowed you to be more free with your feelings, or less afraid of them. It was easier to say what you wanted, removing the chance of stumbling over ideas, of forgetting the topic. This was closer, somehow, to intimacy. Nobody else in the world could hear you. It made it that much more special.

Love is tracing the cracks in his skull like they were the lines in a work of art. You treated every part of him with equal attention. You had astute observations of his appearance, you didn't want to miss anything. Although each day, it seemed, you would find something new to love about him. He was flustered whenever you pointed something out - I love this, you would whisper. The words drifted from between your lips like a blessing. All the things he once found hideous, he soon saw the meaning in. Everything about him was meant to be - it all had its reasons. It all had its beauty.

Love is the quiet moments, when all you can do is stare at him. It's like he was something to be marveled at - and maybe he was, be that he was made almost completely of flames that did not burn, but just flickered. He did not know what to do underneath your gaze besides sit still and accept it. He was complacent as your eyes simply ate him alive. There was never a struggle, he was patient. He would remain stationary until you slid over to him, resting your lips upon his. It's like before you kissed him, you imagined the whole scene in your head. You acted too perfectly, to boldly, to not have thought it all out beforehand. He liked that you were always thinking of him.

Love is wrestling with him. When you would pin him to the floor, straddling his waist. He knew this wasn't how wrestling worked; no, you weren't supposed to be in love with your competitor. Being in love meant weakness. But, he decided, if weakness meant being close to you, he loved it. Only in this instance would he accept defeat, watching the proud grin grace your lips before you leaned down to kiss him softly. Although your movements were harsh, and forceful, begging to overpower him, your kisses were sweet. Your kisses were light, compassionate. After rough housing, you treated him to a tender hug, a gracious peck. He loved both sides of you.

Love is not treating him like an object to be desired. Although, you did find him quite desirable. But you were too humane, too compassionate, to make him feel any less than someone with their own feelings and experiences. You loved him in a way that allowed him to be whoever he wanted - the famous star, or the lax lover. He was not a celebrity in your eyes, he was someone you loved endlessly. He was not just a title, he was Mettaton. He was yours, and you were his. And that was all that really mattered.

Love is knowing he wasn't weak. You would tell him every morning that he is capable of balancing the world on the top of his head. You know with that kind heart, and the eyes that idolize every strong figure, he could fight the worst of people, and win the hearts of the best. He was a force to be reckoned with, even if most could not see his power. You could see the passion within him, the fire. All you could ever hope for would be to fuel his flames, not dim them. 

Love is buying her only the most gourmet of sweets. You would hold up lines looking for the perfect pastry to buy her. A majority of your days were spent looking for new bakeries with high ratings. You wanted only the best for her, and you had a strong belief that is what she deserved. While she gave you her love, you returned it with perfect delicacies. You struggled with words, and this is how you made up for it. For, if you could not speak it, you would gift it. She did not mind either way.

Love is embracing him when he begins shaking. The world is scary and relentless. At times you know it can be too much for not only you, but him. So you hide his face in your chest, petting his hair soothingly. You whisper sweet nothings in his ear to distract him from other noises - the world can be too loud sometimes. You want to protect him from every bad thing, but you know that's impossible. One day, he will have to face things by himself. "Today is not that day," you mutter beneath your breath as you caress the back of his head.

Love is when neither of you have to speak. It's a rare moment, when he goes completely silent and still. Rare, but not impossible. It tends to be when you dress nice, or just get out of the shower. Something changes ever so slightly in the way you look and he becomes completely mesmerized, speechless. He watches your every movement with intensity, searching for the words to shout, but finding none. He is completely enraptured by you, in every form.

Love is patience. And you are so very patient with him. You understand that at times, he would rather not discuss his feelings. You understand that he needs to disappear occasionally, in order to recollect himself. He has lived so many lives, you know it is hard to stay in one place, with one person. But he always comes back, to the city, to you. He returns and suddenly he is better than ever, and you are full of the love you had been saving while he was gone. If it meant him being happy, you would wait a millennia. He would search the stars for you.

Love is painting the little things. From portraits, to food, to scenery. You take a brush to a canvas and create wonders. You know you could sell your artwork for high prices, but you always hand the masterpieces to her. The gleam in her eye when another wrapped canvas sets in her hands is worth every penny you didn't gain. Money is not happiness. She is happiness.

Love is peaceful evenings on the couch with the TV as background noise. She would brush her fingers through your hair, intrigued by the colors created from the flickering lights of the television program. Slowly falling asleep with your back against her chest, you would have one ear resting near her heart. The inhale and the thump of a pulse was your own personal lullaby. When your eyelids began to flutter, she would caress your cheekbone as a way to tell you it was okay to fall asleep. And you would drift endlessly, almost floating against her body. You would float all the way to a dream. She was there too.

Chapter Text

Spirit of Undying Love


She surveyed your figure sleeping on the couch, Chinese takeout scarily loose in your unmoving hands. Strands of hair trailed parts of your face, others stuck to couch from the dry static. She wasn't quite sure how she got stuck with you. Looking down at her hands, she wrung them as her lips pursed. She knew she was just an anime-enthused scientist that made a lot of mistakes. She committed without thinking, and loved without boundary. Her eyes glanced up at you again and her pursed lips let up to form a sideways smile. Because she knew you loved her too.


He did not let many others care for the foresty garden in his backyard, but you were particularly delicate. Even when pulling weeds, your movements were graceful, eyes careful. His brow furrowed, unable to figure out how something so precious could treat other things the same way. Most other fragile beings he knew were clumsy and lacked caution. But you were not like the majority. Opening the screen door and stepping out on the back porch, he knew you were so much different than everyone else.


Although treated softly in younger years, the torturous memories of killing everyone he knew and loved had him grow into something much harder. Inside, he was still aching and filled with regret, unable to move from the only hill in this town that grew golden flowers. He couldn't see his family, his old friends, for they would know of what he did. And he was sure they would not forgive him. However, it seemed, you did. Haunted by your own dark childhood, he knew you shared the days were nothing seemed right. And he was glad you were willing to hide away with him.


Bleu (Nice Cream Guy):
Your giggles had been his favorite thing. When the fur of his ears tickled your neck, or when his hands brushed your back softly. He was scared of your neutral expression, for it looked to sad to be on such a beautiful face as yours. And so, he had made it his mission to make sure you always looked happy until it stuck and you could no longer wipe the smile from your face. He would love you until forever ended and smiles weren't called for - of this, he was sure.


BP (Burgerpants):
It was a wonder he ran into you at all, again and again. The first time was good timing, as both of you just happened to like stage acting. The second time was great placement, where you only lived down the road from the place he worked. But the third time, and fourth time, and every time you kept returning, it blew his mind. He couldn't comprehend how you could love someone like him. You had the looks for a model career and a personality that would snatch the heart of a confident millionaire. And yet, you wanted him. He was still trying to figure out how to pay you back for that.


How had they captured not only your LOVE, but your love? They weren't quite sure. What started once as a kindergarten friendship became something much stronger, much warmer over the years. And it seemed when they released their hatred and replicated your compassion, you loved them even stronger. They hadn't known what exactly the emotion of love felt like until you held them in your arms and mumbled a lullaby in their ear as they fell asleep. Until you embraced them tightly, rubbing their back as you tried your hardest to distract them from the previous nightmare. And now that they had it, tucked away and suffocating their heart, they didn't want to breathe anymore.


A dog. He was a dog. A dog that was so blind to unmoving things, he was rather grateful to find someone that couldn't stop moving. He often laughed about the coincidence that was your relationship as your cheeks turned red with embarrassment. He couldn't help but bringing the blush to your face, to see it travel up your neck, over your ears, and finally splotch all over your face. He found it unimaginably beautiful. But he would never tell you that.


He wasn't a psychologist, but he knew for a while, he was unable to feel. He was incapable of experiencing love, or hate. It made him crazy, thinking he was soulless and unlike the rest. He just wanted to be small and feel safe again. Somehow, you gave that to him. You made him feel small, and safe, and loved. Even when your eye twitched and a smile seemed forced, you never raised your voice, never told him that he was a monster - not only on the outside, but the inside too. You brought something to life within him. Something wondrous and unknown. He liked the unknown.


Your endless talking made up for the fact that they barely talked at all. Others would joke that you spoke enough for the both of them, to which you would blush and apologize and Frisk would manage a broken laugh. The sparkle in your eye and grin that came to your face when they laughed was nothing short of breathtaking. It seemed you were fascinated by their rough, raspy giggle, and elated all the same. It gave them a power to laugh even more, just to see your happiness.


You found good in him. Even when he fantasized over the day that he would be able to go back in time and save the two angels of death, you nodded along like it was something he was fully capable of doing. You let him choose work over you, but helped him quit working when exhaustion slivered its way into his system. He was obsessed with impractical ideas and only recently had he realized how impractical your relationship was with him, too. He had half of your soul, and although it seemed destined that you remained together, you let him believe that you didn't have to. You laughed when you told him that you were soulmates, and only now did he realize that was true.


He wasn't the most enjoyable person. He wasn't excitable, or fun. He was serious and had his feet set firmly in the ground. He was stubborn, and you shared that trait with him. But the rest of you, was completely opposite. You were wild, you wanted adventure. You liked the idea of igniting matches and watching it turn into an explosion. Yet, you knew how to be caring and how to be soft. For him, you cusped the flame and let it extinguish.


Luu (Mad Dummy / Mad Bot):
You were both agressive and competitive, factors that usually did not walk hand-in-hand with romance. Yet, you made it work. Albeit, you were hard-headed and set for success, you knew when to give up on something that wasn't destined. The fact that you hadn't given up on him was proof enough. For what? He wasn't sure. -- That you loved him? Maybe. Whatever the emotion was that crossed your face when he leaned in to kiss you, that was why he was still around.


He couldn't begin to list all the reason he loved you. Your awkward charm, your constant blush, you crooked smile - they were all factors that kept the gears turning and wires alive inside of him. And kissing you, that was the best part. It was always passionate, rather it be brief or extended. He knew how infatuated you were with him, and also how much you loved him as a normal presence in your life all the same. He gave you compliments he felt you deserved, and in return you handed over your heart. He was determined to keep it safe. He wouldn't let this turn out to be another one of his dramatic screenplays.


MK (Monster Kid):
You had changed. He could tell. You became stronger, and more detatched. You observed and knew everything about everyone while your brusied, scratched knuckles never changed. But you were vulnerable with him. Your hands were soft when hugging him or brushing your fingers across his face. You were weak when you were sitting next to each other on the couch. Your expression was happy when he told jokes about his idols, and you laughed when the amusement was overflowing. He never told you that you were one of his idols.


Napstablook / Napstabot:
Why were you so compassionate? He asked himself this everyday. Because your hands held him gently, and when you kissed him, it was soft. You eyed him cautiously, like even a glance could send him crumbling. And yours could. His walls had tumbled many times when meeting you, and even with the barrier gone, he felt comfortable. You gave him shelter from the pain that came with living, and acted as a home from cruel words and judgement. He was grateful. Whatever you thought, he was grateful.


He was loud, and he saw you wince at points that his voice became overwhelming. After months of listening to your quiet voice and trying to replicate it, you finally laughed and said it was okay. It delighted him that he would get to express his enthusiasm freely, but also confused him. Did you love him so much, you were willing to risk your eardrums? Surely, that was the ultimate form of love. In order to repay you for your generosity, he began to being you flowers each time you came over, to which you would place a peck on his cheek, leaving him feeling in debt once more. It was an endless cycle of giving and giving back.


He wasn't the easiest person in the world to love. He was closed off for the most part, and emotions beyond his permanent grin were rare. But you made him slip up. Constantly, he found himself chuckling at something you did - even blushing when you managed to surprise him. Immediately, he shut down and return to his normal, neutral demeanor, but you always caught the split second of what he really felt. It was amazing he felt anything at all.


She hadn't had a real cooking partner before, just those who would watch. At first, that's all you would do; watch. Then, you began to fit yourself in to her kitchen. You would help her bake, or supply ingredients for dinner. When two things needed done at once, you took care of one - and rather aptly. You brought something new to her life, you gave her something to bond over. And she was glad for the extra help. She made sure to reward your with small kisses again and again each time she felt they were needed.


She was careful with you, but you always wanted to roughhouse with her. It was all about having fun and messing around. You would tease her until she chased after you, or poke at her until she had enough and began tickling you. But, there were also the calm moments. You would both sit on the couch and she watched you fall asleep more than she would watch the anime on the TV. She sighed as you would play with her hair, braiding it or just running your fingers through. Whether it be a day of action or a night of rest, you would conform.

Chapter Text

A small child is terrified of the monster under their bed, but what they don't know is that the monster under their bed protects them from the true monsters - their parents.


The End:


You straightened your back, pushing away from the desk you had been playing at for hours. Your heart was set on finishing the hundredth or so playthrough of one of your favorite games and, honestly, you just missed seeing their character on the screen. Running your fingers along your arm, you smiled weakly at the desktop, game frozen in a line of dialogue. You knew you had to stop sometime, otherwise presenting the risk of growing obsessed - hell, maybe you already were - but you'd given anything to be inside that fictional world of monsters and humans than continue to hear the screams and feel the emptiness in your home.

Sighing, your hand reached out until a finger made contact with the power button. Before pressing down, you reflected on each battle, each save point. By now, the whole game was mapped out in your mind. You knew the secrets and the darkest corners, along with spawn times and points. Enemies weren't new anymore and you could repeat all the dialogue. All the paths that took more than 2 years create, you had explored each and every one. You destroyed hope, then rebuilt it. You saved everyone, then killed everyone. There was nothing better than seeing them happy, but you just had to watch them suffer too.

Glancing down at the desk, you pressed the button, light and colors diminishing from the screen. You stood up, then pushed your chair back into place, grasping a stack of papers you had piled off to the side. Straightening them, your eyes couldn't help but catch some of the words you had typed and printed. You ran a finger along their name, feeling almost embarrassed to write romantic intervals for a character in a game, but it had given you comfort when the game itself couldn't. Sifting through the stack a bit, you found a formal document, a contract you had signed. It stated policies of the landlord, payment options, and so forth. You smiled knowing the house you had rented was yours, and truly corporeal. After discovering everything from talking skeletons to volcanoes that just wanted love, it was nice to know a part of your life didn't have to be make believe anymore. You were sure you would still dream of your favorite character, imagining small scenarios in which you held hands, or conversed at the dinner table. But no longer would it have to be an escape from the world you really lived in.

You wondered, when was the last time you looked your parents in the eyes? It had been years. You had forgiven them long ago, although they weren't apologetic. The past few months had you rarely leaving the computer - isolating yourself - the only thing reminding you that they were still alive was their constant bickering and the quick glances you would get of their backs whenever you got hungry. Often would they pound on your door and demand you come out and socialize; they threatened to take away everything you loved if you didn't speak to them, but you never opened the door. You never gave them any of your time because truthfully, you hated who they were. You couldn't hate them directly - no, they were your parents, and you remember the days they would hug you and kiss the scrapes on your knees. But you hated who, perhaps what, they had become over the years. Did they believe they could distort into monstrosities since you were finally of age? Whatever their reasoning, you weren't agreeing.

Stuffing the papers in your bag, keys jingled in your hand as you stepped outside the home. The sun was bright, no clouds to be seen as the moving truck awaited your departure. You breathed in the warm air, then smiled, chest light and shoulders broad. Outside the home that had given you the weight of the world, you felt free. You felt new, perhaps even reborn. Your feet clicked along the cracked sidewalk leading to your ride, the rhythm quick and almost happy. This was the start of something better.

Sticking the keys in the ignition, you listened to the rumble of the engine before you placed your hands on the gear shift and steering wheel, foot pressing down the break. Inhaling, you stuck the truck into drive, and checked your mirrors. When the wheels began turning, you were glad to see that house in the rear view.

You were... complete.


But who ever said that "the end" meant forever?

Chapter Text


The one that always made you laugh. And despite the disappointments, you couldn't help but smile at her mistakes. She reminded you so much of yourself, and she helped you realize that there was still happiness beyond the committed wrongs.

He was scarily alike to your father - with his gentle soul, but a vengeful spirit. You couldn't help the sadness you felt when you finally began to understand the reasoning behind his coldness to humanity. He always deserved to be forgiven, to be understood.

He was just a child, and children are impulsive. Children are scared. Like a little brother, you always wanted to let him know that it wasn't his fault. There will always be people in life that deceive you, and then let you take the blame for their actions.

Bleu (Nice Cream Guy):
Out of irony, you named him after your cat. Devoted to the happiness to others, you were sure the only thing that kept him going was a smile on someone's face. You wish everyone could be more like him.

BP (Burgerpants):
Upon your first inspection of his personality, you found him insane. Weird. Out of wack. You soon came to learn people only use these negative terms when they don't understand, or are scared of something that they see within themselves.

Soulless. But with a soul, you suppose, they would just be another child. Another child that could not understand the true meaning of mortality. The true meaning of empathy, or compassion. But you believed someone could teach them, if only they had the patience.

He's a dog. A very cute, clueless, mildly stressed dog. That's adorable. You love dogs.

What is it, you wonder, to live a life where you feel nothing? You swear you've experienced it before, and you know the discomfort of feeling like a dead man walking. In those times, all you wanted was someone who would listen, who would hold you and love you despite it all. You thought, maybe it would be the same for him.

Two sides to a whole. You always have choices in life that reflect who you are as a person. If you want it badly enough, you will commit to being compassionate, or becoming a monster. One takes more love than the other.

A man dedicated so deeply into his will to save his world, his home, the king and his children, the life his people missed. He may have become partially blind to the one who loved him, but they would continue to love despite his lack of peripheral vision. You were sure this was what he was destined for.

He could only want the best, you decided. As a bartender, he would learn to listen and to comfort without words. He would know when the means had no ends, and he would make sure to stop the cycle. He would know when to hide, if it helped save someone else.

Luu (Mad Dummy / Mad Bot):
And despite his anger, all he wanted was to be whole. With someone who fit between his cracks, and who would smooth his edges, perhaps he could be happy. Perhaps he could feel alive, again. Perhaps hatred would not be his only fuel.

It's hard to look at others the same when you are loved by so many. And yet, with a different kind of love that deals less with admiration and infatuation, he could learn the true meaning of being human. He could learn that being a star also meant being a role model.

MK (Monster Kid):
He was you, in many aspects. Starstruck and in love with idea of having someone to look up to. And still, he loved and idolized quietly. All he ever longed for was a little protection from the world, and he would be grateful for anyone that could offer that.

The hardest to write for, because what else is there for her to love beyond her greed? You decided that although spiders often tend to kill their mates, she could make an exception. If that only meant they could quench her greed for money, and transform it into a greed for love.

Napstablook / Napstabot:
Fragile, something you were never ready to admit described you. You took all the weaknesses in yourself, and put them into him. Then, you knew you had to grant him someone that would give everything to erase the insecurities. You would grant him a love that would make him forget he ever doubted himself.

Friendship and recognition can be hard to come by. And although he may have never reached a long list of admirers, he appreciated those who gave him their heart. They were his everything, as long as he could be their everything, too.

A smile that expresses nothing does not run as deep as eyes that see everything. Knowledge is darkness, and ignorance is light. And with his all-knowing self, you had to hand him someone who would not remind him of all that he learned, and would not push for the reasoning behind his many absences. 

Who wanted so much for everyone that she became terribly selfless. And in the midst of her selflessness, she became lonely. If you could erase her loneliness with someone that would also give everything, they could live in their own world of giving and giving back.

Fiery, but with heart. Beyond a tough exterior lies a heart that appreciates those who dedicated themselves to her success. She protected them with a passion that could not be beat, even by death. She would go out with a smile on her face, no matter the circumstance.

Chapter Text

        You had had a fitful sleep, tossing and turning in hopes to cool down or warm up enough to feel comfortable in the sheets. But you couldn't help your ache for someone else to be lying next to you, and the pillow was not a suitable placeholder. After what felt like hours of restlessness, you finally decided to get up. Perhaps what you really needed was just a warm cup of tea and a small snack.

        You would've made it to the kitchen had you not noticed that your floor was in fact carpet and not wood. Despite the darkness, there was enough moonlight to reveal blue walls instead of white, and furniture placed in spots you could not familiarize. Rubbing your eyes, you figured you must have actually fallen asleep. And even though everything felt all too real, you convinced yourself you were just dreaming.

        Sliding out of the bed, you travelled across the plush floor until you reached a single door and tugged it open. Peeking out of the frame, you were met with a quite empty hallway, and your room was at the very end. You carefully stepped outside before continuing on your small venture. As you neared the open space at the other end of the hall, you noticed a warm light slipping around the edge of the wall. Curiosity piqued, you sped up just the slightest.

        It was only a few seconds before you poked your head out from behind the wall, surveying the room that was laid out before you. This was most certainly not the house you rented, and not your parents' either. Feeling the ridges of cracked paint on the wall as you used it for support, you suddenly began to panic.

        You could only manage a small gasp as you noticed a shadowed figure on the one sofa, lonely and seemingly unknowing to your presence. Terrified of this stranger (or intruder, you weren't quite sure), you launched yourself backwards and away from the living room, accidentally knocking into an accent table and the lamp placed on top of it. The porcelain of the base shattered against the floor, and tears pricked at your eyes when the figure stood abruptly, reaching for a light switch with hurried movements. 

        As the light from a small chandelier blinded you, you could only gape as your eyes adjusted, straining to see the other person in this house. As you slowly discerned their features, you felt like you could faint. At the sight of the Undertale character that you had written so much about, you knew this had to be a dream. But why did everything feel so real?

        Before you could begin searching for answers to your inquiry, they spoke.



When Dimensions Collide: (ft. Human!UT Characters)


"(Y-Y/N)!" She trembled plainly. "You finally woke up! I... I was scared you would sleep forever." She neared you with cautious steps. "I've missed you." Her eyes became glossy. "I'm sorry I took you away from your home, but I needed to see you again." She took a shaky breath. "I can't live without you."

"(Y/N), my love." His voice was deep, rumbling from within his throat. "Forgive me for being so selfish, but I..." He wrung his hands, eyes shifting from you, to the floor, and to you once more. "The garden was withering without you." He paused, lips parted as if he was struggling to say more. But, he finally managed. "I was, too."

"(Y/N)!" He was immediately reduced to tears and he took long steps across the room until he could pull you into his embrace. "I can't - I can't continue to live on that hill alone." His sobs were brief, but noticeable. "You can't leave me. Not like everyone else, (Y/N), please." His breath was warm against your neck. "Not like everyone else."

Bleu (Nice Cream Guy):
"(Y/N)..." He breathed your name like his favorite music verse. "I... I wish I could explain." For once, a frown coated his face - not just on his lips, but in his eyes. "But all I can say is that you are my happiness." He desperately wanted to reach out for you, but he held himself back at the sight of your fearful expression. "You are my sun, and it always rains without you."

BP (Burgerpants):
A cigarette was burning between his lips, and his eyes were shameful. "Bad habit?" He slowly removed it from his mouth and held it in his fingers. "I've developed all sorts of bad habits since you've been gone." His arms crossed, and he seemed uncomfortable, brows furrowed. "And I may be a bad habit to you, but I just... I need you." His voice lowered, eyes moving to the floor. "Can't you just fall in love with this bad habit one more time?"

Their jaw was tight, eyes red and dangerous. "(Y/N)." They spoke as if they were only teasing their prey. "Look at me." You could barely manage that. "I'm not me." They clutched at the hair on their scalp. "This isn't me, (Y/N)! I'm not me without you!" They fell, suddenly, to their knees and their shoulders convulsed uncontrollably. "I'm a monster without you. I don't want to be a monster anymore!"

 You stared at him incredulously while his eyebrows strung together uncomfortably. "Idiot," he grumbled, clenching locks of his hair. "I'm an undeniably an idiot, but I needed you here." His gaze was fiery. "I can't feel without you. When you're not around, I'm lifeless." He took large strides across the room, then grasped your biceps tightly. "You're not leaving me again."

They stared at you silently, sadness coating their features. They seemed almost shy, tugging at the hem of their sweater and gaze avoiding your own. You took one step forward, and they took one step back. "I - ..." They lost their voice, and their eyes squeezed shut as they cleared their dry throat. "I love you." And that's all they ever had to say.

"I'm still determining how you left without either of using melting out of existence." His fingers were intertwined, posture perfect as he stared at you with eyes you barely recognized. "Perhaps it's because you never believed I was real." His jaw clenched for a moment, Adam's apple bobbing. "You never believed we were real." His blinked slowly before pursing his lips. "I'd like to show you how real we truly are."

He lifted his hands from the pockets of the dress pants he was wearing. "I am sad to admit I'm not quite as literally 'hot' anymore." He chuckled grimly at his own joke, before quieting upon the lack of your response. "It has been quiet without you, I haven't had to tell anyone to watch their language in so long." He stalked a careful distance around you, nearing a kitchen. "Shall we discuss this over a drink?"

Luu (Mad Dummy):
"Who in the hell said you were allowed to leave me?" Your eyes widened at his aggressiveness, and his eyes narrowed. And audible 'hmph' left his lips. "You're not really (Y/N), are you? No..." He seemed to speaking to himself. "Not my (Y/N). My (Y/N) wouldn't act so scared. My (Y/N) would be holding a baseball bat right now, ready to bash my skull in." He 'tsk'ed, a frown was etched deeply into his face. "I will wait until you are ready to be my (Y/N) again."

"Darling." His eyes sparkled at the sight of you, and his heels clicked on the floor as he took rushed steps towards you. In one swift movement, he swept you off the floor and into his arms. "How I've missed seeing your beautiful face! I couldn't stand everything after you..." He held you gently against his chest, pressing a kiss to your scalp. "Don't you love me?" He breathed shakily as he awaited your reply.

MK (Monster Kid):
"(Y/N)!" Tears were already falling from his eyes, and he rushed over to you. You let out a startled squeak as a pair of arms wrapped around your torso and he stuffed his face into you neck. "I-It feels so good to finally be able to hold you!" He sobbed, although he was grinning against your skin. "If we stay here forever, I will hold you whenever you want, I swear!" His grin was easily replaced with a frown. "Please stay with me forever."

"Precious (Y/N)," she purred. "It is so wonderful to be able to see you again." She walked towards you with confident steps, but stopped a foot in front of you. "Life has been so bland without you, as I am sure yours was, too." She reached a hand out, caressing your cheek softly. "It is simply so black and white without each other, and I've missed the color of your eyes, the flushing of your lips." Her face inched closer, until you could feel her breath fanning across your face. "I've missed you."

"It's... It's really you." Tears were collecting in his eyes. "I-I can't believe it's really you." He sobbed abruptly, and you moved to comfort him. "(Y-Y/N)!" he yelped as you pulled him into a tight embrace. "It feels like it's been so long and I-I thought I couldn't live without you." He wept loudly, furthering your guilt. "I can't live without you! Please tell me this is real!"

"(Y/N)," he whispered in a voice that still managed to sound broken. You couldn't hold yourself back as you sprinted into his arms, wanting nothing more than for him to hold you again. "Sans, he... I..." He ran a hand through your hair, the other hand pressing against the middle of your spine. His voice began heightening. "I left him... BECAUSE I... YOU..." You hushed him, tracing circles against his chest. "I'M A MONSTER..."

"I can't stay for long." His shoulders were tight, tense. He was frowning, and he looked like he hadn't slept in weeks. "Then again, I never really could, could I?" You both stayed a long distance from each other, a distance you were almost scared of. "But I needed to make sure you were okay. And I... I was getting kinda bonely." He winked, a fake, weak laughing slipping from his lips. "(Y/N), I... I'm sorry. Even if you're the one who left, I'm sorry." All emotions were wiped from his face, and he stared at you like you weren't there. "I deserve this."

"(Y/N), that really is you, isn't it?" She neared you, and you stared at her with wide eyes. "Don't tell me that you've already forgotten me." She gently tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, placing a kiss against your forehead. "I haven't forgotten you," she spoke, lips tickling your flesh. When she pulled away, you could see the sorrow in her eyes. "I can never forget you."

"Hey, nerd." Unlike her usual confident tone, her voice cracked. Her features were soft, and her smile was grim. "It's been a while since I've seen you. Her boots clunked heavily on the floorboards as she made her way to you. "A little while too long, I think." She leaned down and pressed a light kiss against the corner of your lips before carefully wrapping you in her arms. You both stood still, and she breathed out slowly. "I've missed you so fucking much."

Chapter Text

TRIGGER WARNING: Violence and Death

playing Why Am I Still in LA by Joji might provide some ambiance and interesting context. I wrote these scenarios way before this song was released, but I like how it fits.


When Dimensions Collide - Pt. 2:


“When you smiled it was toothy and fake. And when you laughed it was a cacophony of metallic hollow sounds that reverberated through her small body and chilled her bones. She knew this was not the soul they used to know.”
She noticed over time that you had seemed fidgety. You reflected her nervous habits as if they were your own. After a week of staying in that home, you were both cramped, but you managed to find ways to avoid her. She was too timid to approach you, and too scared to dig deeper. She simply assumed it was her fault, and scribbled aimlessly on a notepad, thinking of ways to make it up to you.
But when she decided to connect over a movie you had dubbed your favorite, you were grinning too much. Your fingers twitched impatiently, one knee bobbing subtly. Turning to face you and at least lay a comforting hand on your thigh, she stopped short. Your grin was stretched far too wide now, and cracks were beginning to form around your lips. She gaped, frozen in fear as your head slowly swiveled in her direction. Crimson glinted in your eyes, cheeks flushed as if winter had started in the living room.
“Alphy~” you cooed, but your voice seemed to double. It sounded as if someone else was speaking over you. “You couldn't from me hide forever.”
Her screams were drowned out by your maniacal laughter.


“And at that moment he saw the life leave your beautiful eyes, even if you were not dead.”
“My love,” he crooned, over and over, placing kisses up and down your arm. You had been sitting motionless on the living room couch for days. He was afraid somewhere in the dimension warp, something had gone wrong with you.
He was pained at the thought that you were different, and because of him. He had a knack for destroying things, and making terrible mistakes. He had not wanted you to be added onto his list of “Could Have Done Better”s.
It was nearing on a week of inactivity, your skin was sickly and your eyes were bloodshot. You felt frail beneath his hands, but you remained incredibly solid when he attempted to move you. It was as if you were being held down. The only sign of life that you had given him was that your chest rose and dropped with deep breaths.
“My love,” he sung once more, before pursing his lips. His eyes scanned your still face, searching for movement, for recognition. His heart rose when your eyes flicked suddenly, locking with his. “(Y/N)?” he called softly, brushing your hair back.
You shook your head almost in slow motion, although your eyes never left his. With furrowed brows, he pondered what you were saying “no” to. As your parched throat livened and your dry lips separated, he received his answer. “Asgore,” you replied, monotone. You had never spoken to him like that, but he remembered who had. He began to stand, backing away. “I've missed the sight of your dying face.”


“No one will love the butcher. Don’t take it personally.”
“(Y/N)? Are you okay?” His fist knocked against the wood of the kitchen’s door frame. Glancing at the skin that now made up his hand, he wasn’t sure he would ever get used to being human. “You’ve been in here for a long time…”
He took a step onto the linoleum only to freeze upon the sight of you standing, seemingly paralysed. In your hand, you held a glimmering butcher’s knife, and while he pondered where you had gotten it from, he was more worried about why you were holding it so menacingly.
“Asriel,” you whimpered, but your upset expression seemed too dramatic to be genuine. He noticed a trail of blood running from one of your ears, down your neck as it disappeared into the collar of your t-shirt. His heart began to speed.
“(Y/N),” he spoke slowly, as if unsure this was really you. It wasn’t.
“Oh, Asriel,” you giggled, “don’t you recognize your best friend?”
His eyes widened, muscles tensing as the goosebumps rose on his skin. He understood now, this was not his (Y/N). But before he could escape from the house, you had tackled him, wielding your large blade with a sickening grin. Your breath smelled of copper, and your eyes were not the (e/c) he remembered. This was not the soul he had loved.


Bleu (Nice Cream Guy):
“You asked him for it. For the blood, for the rust, for the sin.”
“What is it that you can offer me?” you had asked him one day, and he had expected to see a loving glint in your eye. Instead, he was faced with coldness. Emptiness. Perhaps, you were just having a bad day. Yes, that must be it. In that case, he would try his best to cheer you up.
With a cheeky smile, he responded, “My heart, and my soul.”
You returned his proclamation with a wicked grin that he found unlike you. He was beginning to grow nervous at your odd behavior.
“Are you alright, sweetheart?”
Your eye twitched at the pet name and his fists tightened. You did not usually brush off his nicknames, but blush and hide your face out of embarrassment. Who were you now? How had you changed? “My love,” you purred, another thing that differed. You had always been scared of the term ‘love.’ “If you would truly offer your heart and soul to me, how could I ever resist?”
“W-What do you mean?”
Your eyes blinked slowly, lips spreading in a tight smile until he was sure your face would crack. Eventually, it did. When you finally looked at him in the eyes, he found your pupils blown far too wide - or maybe your eyes were just black. You slipped a blade from between the cushions of your recliner. “Oh, I think you know what I mean.”


BP (Burgerpants):
“Why are you full of rage? Because you are full of grief.”
Tears ran freely from your eyes, and he was now counting down the second hour of trying to comfort you out of this sorrowful reverie. But you seemed trapped in whatever thoughts were floating through your head as he held you tightly in his arms.
He had tried everything, inside jokes, kisses, drawing mustaches on pictures of Bratty and Catty - he had even blown cigarette smoke in your face. But you were inconsolable and he eventually resorted to piling up toilet paper and tissues, rocking you back and forth in his lap and drying your tears, wiping away snot. Paper was now piling around the chair he had lifted you both into, but he was determined to wait until you had calmed before leaving you to clean the mess.
It was only when you began to quiet down that he allowed himself to breathe, brushing his human fingers through your hair. He was thoroughly fascinated at how different your locks felt on his skin rather than fur, but his thoughts were broken by your words.
“I don’t know what stopped me from climbing over that desk and wrapping my hands around your neck.” A smile was stretching on your face, but your eyes looked lost. “Maybe it was how you taunted me. Maybe I thought if I left you there, surrounded by the ashes of the people you used to know, that you would suffer more than you would in death.” His pupils dilated, and he tried to gulp down his racing pulse. You slowly tucked your head beneath his chin, pressing your red nose against his neck. Softly, you bit into the skin that protected his jugular vein, before pulling back a bit.
“I can’t stand to see you alive anymore.” At that, your teeth attacked his throat.


* How odd.


“You need to be hurt again. You need to do bad things again.”
He wasn’t sure what had happened to you. One day, you were his innocent, caring (Y/N), the next you were cold. You looked at him with distant glares as if his presence was nothing but a constant annoyance, and your muscles were tight with apprehension. It was as if you were waiting for something, but for what? To attack? The idea was preposterous, he knew you would never hurt him. He would never hurt you.
“Flowey,” you spoke, your voice bored, uncaring. He was scared he might have been boring you to death. Maybe you left the first time not because you had to, but because you couldn’t stand him anymore. “Do you remember the other timelines?”
His eyes flicked to you now, warning. His brows were furrowed, lips tight as a sign that he clearly did not want to speak about the topic. You grinned at this.
“Where you killed everyone?” His heart sunk, throat tightening. He didn’t want to be reminded. “Where I killed you?” From behind your back, a knife slipped into his view. You held it steadily, perfectly aware of your movements, of your intentions. “I think I’d like to do that all again.”
He tried to run. But running would not get him anywhere this time.


“This vessel is a lie, a shapeshifting beast, a lesson in fluidity.”
Your hands were freezing, they had noted. At least, that’s how it started. First, it was just your fingertips, then your fingers, then your hands, then your arms. And finally, it was your whole body. As if your body temperature was lowered into the below freezing ranges, you steadily became more and more chilled with each passing day. It scared them, and they tried to convince you to seek medical attention, but you had refused.
You had said you were fine. But when you looked at them with eyes that seemed at times to be red instead of (e/c), they weren’t so sure. And your skin was losing pigment too, although your cheeks remained flushed. Dark circles formed under your eyes, but you smiled. Your words were not enough to convince them anymore.
You began humming one day, a tune that was chillingly familiar to them. They didn’t understand how you knew it. Your humming eventually turned to whistling, and you rose from your seat, something glimmering in your hand as you neared them. They were too enraptured by your predatory walk and your lyricless lullaby to notice anything was wrong.
Until it was too late.


“Tender flesh turned to leather hide.”
You had been more affectionate as of late. Although he was used to your occasional caresses and chaste kisses upon his face, you were now all over him. As if entranced by his very being, you wouldn’t let him out of your sight, out of your grasp. He was beginning to feel claustrophobic, as if your body had trapped him in a small box, but he couldn’t tell you to stop. He was afraid of insulting you, or that you would stop your loving altogether if prompted.
So he let you brush your fingers through his newly grown hair, nails scraping gently against his scalp. Your fingertips were soft, but he had noticed that the palm of your right hand was blistered. It was as if you had been holding something too tight for too long.
He could only imagine what it was that you had been attached for an extended period of time before he saw a shimmer of silver peeking from underneath your shirt. “(Y/N),” he spoke cautiously. He wasn’t entirely sure this person was you.
“Yes, Gaster?” you purred, nuzzling your face in his locks. He took this opportunity as a chance to reach for the object you were hiding in your waistline. And just as he brushed his fingers across it, his hands were pinned against the back of the couch. “Now, now, Gaster,” you spoke as if scolding a small child. He couldn’t believe your strength as you held down his body with ease. “It’s disrespectful to try and steal people’s things. It seems I’ll have to teach you a lesson in manners.” His heart raced, knowing this really wasn’t you. He had let a stranger touch him for far too long, and now he was going to let them be the cause of his death.


“You tried to do it differently. You tried to make them all your friends, but now… Now you want them dead.”
You had been sitting in front of the fireplace for hours, seemingly enthralled with the flickering flames and popping embers. He hadn’t wanted to bother you at first, thinking that perhaps you were upset, or having a slow morning. But now the sky was darkening into evening, and he swore he could no longer see your shoulders rise with inhales or drop with exhales. Peering at you from in between the kitchen cabinets and counters, he wrung his hands on a hand towel. He supposed that action was some sort of coping method now.
With his concern flooding the desire to give you space, he began to leave the tiled kitchen, stepping quietly across the living room’s carpet. He was keenly aware of each time his feet brushed against the fabric floor, or when he lightly bumped into the coffee table. At once, he stood over you, eyes moving from the back of your head, to the fireplace. Had you fallen asleep with your head up? He wondered.
Crouching, he slowly reached his hand to touch your shoulder, as if not to frighten you. Horror consumed him when he found your body cold and solid… almost like stone. Now panicked, he stood and pivoted around your frozen body. He found your face frozen in an expression of pure joy, and felt hairs rising on the back of his neck - a sensation he had never been familiar with.
A shaking hand outstretched to caress your face, but once it made contact, he noticed something alarming. Your eyes had snapped to his. You stared at him, silently, menacingly.
“Grill… by...” Your chapped lips barely moved in compliance, voice hoarse. “I… can’t stop.” His hand quickly retracted from your cheek as cracks began forming around your mouth. It was both a horrifying sound and sight, but you kept smiling. “I can’t stop myself…” He watched as your hand reached into your lap. He saw something glimmering there, reflecting the flames.
“I have to kill you.”


“You know they’re going to use the things you love against you.”
He thought it was just another friendly tussle. Much like puppies play, the both of you would engage in painless wrestling to get rid of pent up energy. He was surprised at how fluidly you tackled him at first - it had been so long since you had actually fought, why were your movements so confident? He laughed in the face of your pride, teasing you for your desperate attempts to overpower him. And he kept laughing until at once, you were on top of him.
From here, he could see the ravenous beast in your eyes. The red glint, the flared pupils. Your expression was blank, and your body was stiff. It was as if you were a puppet, waiting for its strings to be pulled.
“(Y/N)..?” he called hesitantly. He was almost unsure that this was really you. Maybe it was just some sort of practical joke.
“I remember the first time I towered over you like this. You and I were so different then. Almost like we were different people.” Your voice was monotone. Your lips moved, but the rest of your face never followed. His shoulders were beginning to tense. “I had a knife in my hand, and I cut you. You were so happy.” He clenched one fist, preparing to strike. Never once had he contemplated hitting you. However, this wasn’t really you. “And because you were so happy, you never imagined it. You never imagined that I would keep swinging. Slicing.” He threw his arm, waiting for contact. And his fist met a solid surface, but it was not your face, where he had been aiming. Instead, it was your hand. You hadn’t even looked away from his eyes.
“Even now, you are so happy that you are blind.” You were beginning to squeeze his fist so tightly. He had never known a pain like this. “Why did you never learn your lesson?”
With that, your free hand met his temple and he lost consciousness. He never regained it.


“You died screaming, yet the monster who took your place was silent.”
He woke up from his beauty rest in a panic. The house reverberated with your screams, something he thought he would never have to hear, never have to recognize. His legs tumbled from the bed, tangled in bed sheets, as his real heart pounded ferociously in his chest. Soon, he reached the bedroom door and ripped it open. His body could barely keep up with his feet, and he stumbled all the way to the living room. This was the source of your wailing, and he found you writhing around on the carpet.
“(Y/N)...” He meant to yell it, but it only came out as a hushed whisper beneath his breath.
He slid down to his knees and examined you, hands hovering over your flailing body. What should he do? He just didn’t know. He rested a hand on your arm, gripping your bicep tightly. He knew this wouldn’t help but -
You stopped moving. At his touch, you became still. But you hadn’t relaxed. As if in some sort of trance, you had frozen mid-thrash. One hand was grasping at air, the other at your throat. Your feet and toes were curled into the carpet. Your back was arched, the end of your rib cage showing from underneath your shirt.
“(Y/N), are you -”
“Who is that?” you gasped. “Who is (Y/N)?” Your eyes were stuck, panicked, looking at the ceiling. It was like you had been begging it to save you. “Who are you?”
Horror had consumed him, but he couldn’t release his grasp on your arm. He couldn’t move.
“Who am I?” you cried quietly. A single tear slipped quickly from your eye. “Am I a killer?”
“No, (Y/N), you are -”
“I think…” you interrupted. “I think I’m your killer.” He held his breath now. “I think I want to kill you.”
The house was filled again with screams, but this time, they weren’t just yours.


Chapter Text

Outer World:

You were a child - or, a young adult, perhaps. You were haunted by your parent's constant arguing. You felt there was no escape, no matter what you did. Nothing ever worked. There was only hate in your world, no love. You were never loved.
Not until January 18, 2016.
September 15, 2015 was the day Undertale was released. What made you buy it? This world may never know. There was just an itch. No simple scratch could ease it. You had to have that game. It had to be played by your hands. You had to be a part of the story.
Over the months, you played. And you played. And you played. And you played. Until, what more was there to be found anymore? You had found the lost child, the secret door, the hidden rooms, the man that spoke in hands. You had loved everyone. You had loved everyone. Then, you had loved most, while you picked one to love particularly. You felt bad for loving them in such a way. You felt bad for loving them all. But you just had to know.
You had to keep playing to escape.
In order to make up for all the love, and to find a new escape, you picked up paper and a pencil. The screams outside the walls were a nice white noise. You began to write.
But how could you write about love, if you had never been loved?
It was something you learned along the way. Is it so silly to say a game taught you how to love? Is it so silly when there was no other source from which to learn? Do we really learn love, or is it instinct?
Perhaps those are questions for a different time. There are many different times.

Under Under World:

You were not the savior of this timeline. But once...
You had known an awful child. Once, they weren't quite so awful, you thought.
Because when they went missing, you felt empty.
You had never been loved by anyone, except that awful child. That awful child had been your only friend. Your best friend. The town went into panic, searching the forests, the hills, the bottoms of lakes. But they never searched that mountain. You knew, in your soul, that's where they were. It's almost as if they were beckoning you.
The townspeople spoke such ugly words about the ones who lived in that mountain. Who lived under your world. You were so young. How were you supposed to believe anything besides what they told you? You believed all monsters were monsters. You never believed you were a monster.
You were so young. But you set out, one night, to that mountain. You had nothing except your winter jacket with a knife tucked in one of the pockets. You knew what you had to do.
You had to find that awful child. It was all your soul cried for. That awful child.
And when you found the dark abyss, you were shivering. You convinced yourself it was just the cold. You fell.
You remember the first one you killed. It was a monster. It was a woman. Her ashes spread at your feet like a new welcome mat. You opened the doors, tucking your knife away.
When he shook your hand, you saw the empty stare. He knew. The grey on your palms was not the remnants of clay or dirt. He warned you, then. You did not heed his warning. Monsters were not worthy of being listened to. Their threats meant nothing.
The next was another monster. It was a boy. Or...? No. It was a monster. It was a skeleton. It was not a boy.
Why did he tell you that you could do better? Why did he... No. It was a monster. Monsters were not worthy of being listened to.
The next was a monster. She was... It was so determined. It was too determined. It melted out of existence. You watched its goop seep through the spaces between the bridge's panels.
The next was a robot. They were so easy. Destroyed in an instant. It made you feel guil... It made you feel powerful. Unstoppable.
The next. Was not so easy. Why wasn't it easy? You had taken everything from him. Why wasn't it easy? Why wouldn't he just give up? If they all had just given up, you swear you would've stopped. If they just let you past, if they just let you walk. You wouldn't have caused any trouble. You just wanted to find that awful child.
The ashes were becoming slimy globs of grey in your sweaty palms. Your grip on the knife was slipping. Why wasn't it easy? You were not meant for this. Your soul began to crack. Why wasn't it easy? That awful child. Did they really need to be found?
When he closed his eyes to sleep, you hesitated. Would he forgive you if you just dropped the knife? Would he let you past if you told him what his brother had told you? 
Still. I believe in you. You can do a little better. Even if you don't think so. I promise.
But that awful child. It beckoned you. You raised your hand. You swung. Why did he bleed red?
There was no next. At the throne you found that awful child. They complimented you for your handiwork. They were pleased that they didn't have to do it all by themselves.
You were not pleased. You were tired. You were guilty. The awful child sitting on the throne did not feel like your friend.
That is when they walked up to you, taking the knife from your hand. It felt like a shackle had been broken. With a gentle touch, they grasped your hands, wiping your dirty palms on their sweater. It was as if they wanted to take the blame.
You thought they wanted to lift the guilt from your shoulders.
They hugged you. Your arms hung heavy at your sides. Then, all at once, there was a sharp pain in your back. At once, your broken soul was taken from your body, placed in their hands. 
They thanked you for your participation, they now had all the power they needed.
That awful child.
You slept peacefully in the soft flowers. You never woke again.

Under World:

You knew all along, didn't you? You knew who you were, what you had done. But you told yourself that was a different time. There are many different times. This time, you would make it up to them.
The hard one knew. The flower knew. The broken one knew. The awful child knew.
Why did you never apologize? Maybe it was because you wanted to pretend that you didn't remember. Maybe it was because you didn't know the right words to say.
You wanted this time to be different. It was.

Outer World:

Finally. You had the money. You had the apartment. Yours. All yours, without screams.
A silent place to spend your days. To create a new life.
With a new life, you would not need an escape. So you packed away your papers, you shut down your computer. You said goodbye to all of those you had loved. To all those that had loved you.

??? World:

You wanted this time to be different. It was.
Until it wasn't.
They couldn't bear to be without you. How could you have just left the one you loved in that stack of papers in your closet? How could you just leave them in a discarded program on your computer?
They had loved you. They were real. And they came for you.
Somehow, they made you come for them too.
You awoke in an unfamiliar world, so did they. You met them in an unfamiliar living room, where you exchanged sorrowful greetings and hugs. All seemed fine.
Until it wasn't.
That awful child.

Chapter Text

Was it fun to write these scenarios?
It had always been a joy for me to write these scenarios. When I finished writing for all the characters in each scenario, it felt both like relief and accomplishment. The reward I experienced by seeing all of your support and praise made it even more enjoyable in the end.

Was it fun to go back like a month later and reread what you wrote and read people's comments?
It was definitely nice to go back and read older scenarios and comments. It's crazy to think that at one point, I only had a handful of people reading my scenarios. I can vaguely remember writing the first set of scenarios around Christmas time, and the response to them after publishing was enchanting. I was so happy, and going back to read older things really makes me nostalgic - I can feel all the passion I had towards writing for these characters.

What was the hardest part of writing these scenarios? Did they give ya a bad time?
Most times, I had very little trouble with writing these scenarios - although writing for them was very time-consuming. You could almost say that I burned myself out, and one thing I definitely regret is not writing more for you all. Three characters gave me a particular struggle - Doggo, Muffet, and Toriel. I couldn't quite grasp onto Doggo's personality, I personally didn't connect or like Muffet, and to see Toriel as a lover and not a motherly figure was difficult. Towards the end of my writing, I sometimes purposefully left out these characters with the hopes that no one would notice. However, of course, a few noticed. Perhaps I'll go back and write their scenarios one day.

Do you know how much of an inspiration you are to all of us?
I've always hoped that I've inspired people to write, as it is such a magical thing to give life to words. However, I've never really considered my influence. Still, it is always nice to see readers that are grateful for my writing. I appreciate you all so much.

Are there any common grammar errors you'd like for even experienced authors to fix?
Mainly three things.
1. Always make sure to start a new paragraph when a character begins dialogue! If you use "", always start a new paragraph, unless it is the same character talking for a second time. E.g. "Kids like you should being rotting in hell," Sans said. Where the first quotation mark begins before "kids" should be the start of a new paragraph. E.g. "Kids like you," Sans snarled, "should be rotting in hell."  The first quotation mark before "kids" should be the start of a new paragraph, however since Sans is still talking in the second quote, you do not need to start another paragraph.
2. Learn the difference between breathe and breath. Breathe refers to, "Fish can breathe underwater." Breath refers to, "She took a big breath." It is one of the easiest mistakes to make.
3. Using the grave accent (aka the ` symbol) as an apostrophe. This ' is an apostrophe. This ` is a grave accent. Grave accents are used for pitch and stresses in vowels, something you might see above letters in foreign languages like Spanish, French, etc. E.g. "¿Cómo estás?" Also, in English, the grave accent can be used above a letter (typically in poetry) to show that the letter is silent. If you were to put the grave accent above an e in the word "looked," with the e silent; when written as lookèd, the e is pronounced: look-ed.

Favorite and least favorite character to write?
Favorite character to write was Undyne, hands down. I'd go gay for her, but my boyfriend probably wouldn't like that. Least favorite character to write was Muffet. I just genuinely do not like her, as I cannot form any kind of connection with her personality.

Are you still into Undertale?
I will always believe Undertale is a masterpiece of a game, although I am not as invested in it as I once was. The characters Toby Fox created were so lovable and their stories were so heartfelt that it came as no surprise when Undertale blossomed into a world-renowned game. I hope to play any games Toby Fox makes in the future.

How are you?
I've been doing quite well. <3

Any issues during writing?
Simply finding the time is my biggest issue at this current moment.

What types of scenes are your favorite to write?
Romantic scenes are a joy, but I also take in interest in creating mystery. However, many of the mystery chapters in these scenarios have been taken down due to prior incidents.

Who was the hardest and easiest character to write scenarios for/assign poems that fit them? Did you have a favorite?
Flowey was definitely the easiest character to assign poems for because of his internal struggles with love, but Undyne was the easiest to write scenarios for because I love her character as a whole. As I mentioned before, Undyne was my favorite to write for in general!

How difficult was it to create each scenario for every character you had since each character is unique and react differently?
I wouldn't say it was difficult to create each scenario for every character, but the fact that I had twenty characters to write for made it difficult to find the motivation to finish. Some days it took me two hours to write for everyone, while other scenarios would take days to write.


This is the end of the Q&A, if you have any more questions, feel free to leave them in the comments, and I will reply to you there as soon as I can. Thank you all for this wonderful experience. It had always been a joy of mine to write for you and to see your wonderful reactions. I will always appreciate how you've helped me grow not only as an author, but as a person. I hope life treats you well. I will always believe in you, as you have always believed in me. Good luck <3