Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Fuck.

There is no way.

You give your bag a once over once again.

No, no.
Oh no.
Oh nonononononono.

Fuck! You're so fucking stupid holy shit, are you stupid?!

You're searching frantically through your bag, looking through everything pocket, and throwing shit out of it left and right.

Those are your keys, and that's your headphones, and your few receipts, period stuff. Goddamn it, where. the. Fuck. Is it?

You couldn't have forgotten it. You just couldn't have lost it! Your goddamn wallet with everything that keeps you alive in it! Your i.d, your rewards cards, your debit and credit card, and your cash! Gone.

You see, you're very financially fucked at the moment, seeing as your rent has been overdue for three months, and your landlady is way too nice and this is your last chance to pay her for your small studio apartment before you lose it, and all your furniture you own is your futon that serves as your bed and your couch, your shit T.V that isn't even worth using and your cheap laptop that serves as your T.V instead. You’ve been wearing the same three shirts for the last couple of weeks, same pair of ratty old converse with holes in them, and the same old nasty college hoodie you haven't washed in who knows how long Plus your wifi bill is due soon as well and your job just dropped you due to you being late wayyy too many times, and that job barely kept you afloat in general.

You lift up your bag and check your lap, then rummage through your jacket and jeans pockets. Again.

Empty.

Your heart drops. You're broke, and you'll be even more broke as it is without it, and at this point you were jobless, wallet-less, and practically homeless.

God, you're so, so fucked.

Where are you even gonna live? You only have so many packs of instant meals, and you've got at least two weeks until you lose your wifi and three until you lose the house.

Fuck.

Well, okay, let's calm down for a second. Let's backtrack through today.

First you went to go drop you resumes anywhere and everywhere that could take you from fast-food places and retail to places in your actual field of work.

Then after running around town job-hunting you stopped by the market to get yourself some more cereal since you're almost out. You used your card then, so you definitely did not drop it there.

After the market you went to a cafe for coffee and a pastry to destress. The short skeleton who served you was funny, albeit crude and charming, so you were entertained. Anyway, You paid with cash and took you coffee and pastry to a table, set your wallet down on the table and just looked out the window as you drank and ate, letting yourself zone out. You remember that you were relieved at the fact you had dropped your resume off and that someone just had to call you in for a job.

Then you had got up to throw your cup and your napkins away and left….leaving your wallet.

On.
The.
Table.

It's been at last three hours since you've been there! Someone had to have taken it at this point! Fuuuck! Then again, you barely have a balance, so there wouldn't even be a point in robbing you.

But still, you're so fucking scared. Anyone could have taken it! Like a mean old guy or lady who wanted your money, or your identity could get stolen and used on the deep web, or, or, there's just so many bad fucking things that could happen all because of your stupidity!

How could you be so fucking stupid? If only you didn't go in for that fucking coffee, even though it was really good and the short skeleton monster that sold you it was really nice and funny and charming, it really wasn't even fucking worth it if it meant that you'd be so fucking screwed like this!

If only you weren't so fucking forgetful you wouldn't be in this situation. If only you had gone back to the table after you threw away your fucking cup instead of just leaving satisfied and hopeful that you would get a job. If you weren’t so fucking stupid this wouldn’t have happened.

And now you can't even make money to make up for it or anything.

You lie back on your sad lumpy excuse of a bed, and close your eyes, scrunching your eyes up, trying not to cry as your mind is rushing with questions, overthinking a mile a minute.

How will you get out of this? Will you be okay? How can you even tell your landlord without her thinking you're lying? What will even fucking happen to you after this? What are you gonna eat? How are you gonna eat?

Will you be okay? Why is this happening to you, who was already so fucked as it is?

Life just isn't fucking fair.

It's never fucking fair.

You really won't make it out of this one, will you?

There go the tears. You're not even sobbing because you lost it, you're not even sobbing in general. You just have these tears rolling down your face because you've accepted your fate.

You're fucked, and there's really no way for you to make it out of this one.

You prayed to every god you knew of, hoping that someone or something was going to help you.

Fuck.

Please. 

~XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO~

It's been a week since you've lost your wallet. And a week since you've been freaking the fuck out, and a week since that feeling of dread has been firmly wedged into the pit of your stomach.

A week since you've been calling that cafe left and right to see if they've found it, and sadly they haven't. Which causes that feeling of dread to grow, and your heart to drop even more.That's just ultra fucking worse because that confirms your fears.

Someone actually took your wallet.

You're absolutely not going to fucking make it out of this one. Oh god, you're actually screwed aren't you? No one in their right mind would return a wallet like that. Especially no in this part of the city. You're going to be homeless, and starving, and dirty, and cold, and without internet, and without food.

Plus no jobs have called you back yet. So, there's no hope there either.

In an attempt to distract yourself from the harsh reality of the situation, you decide to pull yourself out of bed and go check your mail. You also valiantly attempt to Ignore your landlady as you walk out your apartment and downstairs to your mailbox.

You rummage through your box as you take a deep breath, preparing for your eviction notice and the next bill.

You grab the envelopes and the coupons sitting in your mailbox and a thick package?

But, you didn't order anything? It just felt like a thick stack of paper or something.

Maybe it's cash?

Hahaha, no. In your dreams.

But still, you pull it out, utterly confused as all hell. And tear open the package carefully, cause it could be laced with asflax or something.

And you practically drop the package, letting the contents peek out through the opening.

First you see the slip of paper.

It's handwritten in simple print, comic sans specifically, and you let out a snicker.

You read it aloud to yourself.

yer lucky i snatched your wallet before anyone else did. anywhos, i checked ya out before i decided to do ya dirty, and it seems like ya could use some help, right sweetheart?
-r

Beside the r, is an intricate wax seal. Which surprises you immensely. No one uses wax seals anymore, especially ones in the shape of three intricate fucking skulls.

And you pull out the rest of the contents in the package.
You take a sharp inhale.
And holY shit that'salotofmoney-

Apparently some Gods out there did listen to you and send you help.

And their way of helping?

Sending you a fucking anonymous person with a shit load of money, who was merciful.

In otherwords,

They sent you a fucking sugar daddy.

Chapter Text

Hoooooooolllllllyyyyyyyyy ShiiIT-
You seriously, Wow. You just. Holy fuck, that’s a lot of money.

You frantically look around, making sure no one saw, and book it back to your apartment, terrified, holding the envelope tightly to your chest. You ignore the neighbors you’d usually say hello to as you fast-walk/run to the staircase.

This is crazy. Seriously insane.

That had to be at least over 5,000 dollars in fucking cash in that envelope.

Who the fuck could be spending that kind of money? And why you of all people?
Plus that insignia on the wax seal. Who in the fuck uses wax seals like that in this day in age? Honestly, it kinda scares you. Whoever sent it clearly had the ability to find you in the first place, but then again,

You lost your whole ass wallet, with your I.D and all your cards in it, plus most of your cash.

So it'd be easy for them in question to find you. They must have the resources to do this, and clearly they're a fucking godsend to help you out. Plus, whoever this is, is clearly loaded as hell, to the point where they have enough cash to throw it all away and spend it on you. And they were clearly extra enough to have a stamp handmade and have the wax for the seal.

You feel lucky, yet creeped out. It's such a wild situation you were just shoved into.

Like a fanfic protagonist or whatever..

THUD.

“Ow...Damnit.” You rub your now throbbing forehead, as you fish into your pocket for your keys. You sincerely hope no one saw you, since it seems like you were running on autopilot the whole time..

Outside of the possible embarrassment, you pull out your keys and hastily unlock the door to your tiny apartment and rush in. Shutting the door and locking it, then proceeding to slide down against said door, exhaling deeply. You pull the envelope away from your chest, and take the time to actually examine the contents.

Breathe, Y/n. Damn, you're running on overdrive because you got a shit ton of money?

Yes, overdrive in-fucking-deed. IT’S A SHIT-TON OF MONEY.

Or so you think.

I mean..

Shut the fuck up and actually count the money before you get all riled up over it.

Okay, okay. Damn.

So, after completing your internal argument, you dump everything out of the package, looking away with your eyes closed, for the extra surprise.

When you look back at the pile that had formed, you had noticed that beside the good handful of tens that fell out and the note that came with it, your wallet had fallen out as well.

Oh my shit.

THANK. FUCKING. GOD.

It still has your rewards cards, and your I.D, and a card wrapped in the same stationary as the initial note, sealed with the same wax seal, but it’s tucked in the same spot your credit card is usually in. So, you obviously pull that out, and unwrap the card.

It's one fancy ass credit card with no name on it. Okay. Cool. Thanks Possible Sugar Daddy.

You look back at the stationary the card was wrapped in, and it turns out to be another note with more scrawl on the inside.
y/n, kiddo. have fun.
don't worry ‘bout anything.
-d.s

It's in the same comic sans-like font as the first note.

What the hell?

You snicker externally, thinking of the person writing these notes staring intense at their computer screen trying so desperately hard to write in comic sans font.

Whoever this is clearly has too much time on their hands.

You tuck the card back into your wallet, and place that note with the initial note you received. Then you take a good glance back at the seals left on the notes.

Those three skulls..They look familiar. You don't know where else you've seen the logo outside of the seals, but you've definitely seen this logo before.

Back to the writer(s?) of the notes, there's two names/initals signed at the end of each.
R, and D.S huh? Either this guy's fucking with you, or there's two people contributing to the “donate to the poor girl” fund. Not like you're complaining though.

Speaking of the Poor Girl Fund, you turn yourself back to the good 5 something handfuls of ten dollar bills sitting on the floor, and take the time to count out the big bucks.

You pull your phone out before you actually start and give yourself some background music.

You decide to sort them out in the simplest way possible. Sets of ten.

One 1 hundred...
You sort out your first set of ten.

Two 1 hundred...
The second.

The third, the fourth, the fifth, the sixth..
As you set aside the sixth set of ten, you can't help but notice how you've barely made a dent in the stack of bills sitting beside you.

Holy shit..

Just..how much money is this?

Your third song already started as you got to the fifteenth set of tens.

Still going. Damn.

You were on your fortieth set of tens when you lost count.

God damn it Y/n. It's not that hard!

Again..

This has to be fucking crazy. You've sorted out over 400 dollars onto your floor. And you're still not done!

Your can pay the rent and the internet bill with all of this! Hell, get a new bed set and a new jacket with the leftover!

As you continue, you've made somewhat of a dent in the large stack of bills, and it looks like you've counted out more than half.

Finally! Also, HOLY SHIT!

You throw up your hands and fall back onto the floor, laying on your back. Sighing and blinking in so much surprise.

After recounting and counting after recounting, you've come to a total of 12,000. Fucking. Dollars. Sitting on your floor. You've got one-hundred and twenty thousand stacks of ten sitting on your floor.

You can cover your bills, and with the leftover, you can buy actual food outside of ramen! And maybe a new sweater, but then you'd be broke again! But not that broke!

You've definitely gotta deposit this ASAP so you can finally pay back the landlady, Ethel. The sweet little old lady deserved it after letting you put it off for this long. And you need to pay your internet bill too.

Time to get off your ass.

You check the time, and see that it's not dangerously late. And decide to pop on down to your bank, since it's walking distance from you.

You quickly bundle the cash together neatly, put it in your bag, throw on your shoes, then walk out of your apartment complex, attempting to walk like a normal person, instead of looking like you're gonna shit yourself because you've got some much money resting against you back.

As you arrive at the ATM, you rub your palms against your jeans, because you're sweating so much.

This is so much money, that could finally put you back on your feet. And from an anonymous source, hell sources. Fuck. This is sooooo fucking crazy.

You deposit the money with shaking hands, and you finishing the deposit, confirming everything.

It's in. You're okay. You still have an apartment to live in for the next couple months. You'll be okay.

You'll be okay, you assure yourself as you walk back home.

You'll be okay, you tell yourself as you pass by the brick wall of the coffee shop you lost your wallet in a week ago, unaware of the familiar sight of three skulled insignia spray painted onto the wall.

You'll be okay, you finalize with a relieved smile as you enter your apartment and flip on your futon, dropping your backpack and falling asleep.

Relieved as all hell.

You'll really be okay.

~XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO~

For the next couple of days, you were going on fine.

First, you sheepishly approach your landlady with the overdue rent, thanking her for letting you go this long without paying rent and thanking her for generous amounts of patience and kindness. She laughs and waves you off, giving you much needed stern warning if this ever happens again. Your grin turns somewhat shameful as you nod and walk back to your apartment.

Oof. Thank God that was taken care of, along with the internet bill. So your home life was secured in a matter of two days.

Next, you went proper grocery shopping, and purchased an actual vegetable, some ground beef, pasta, and pasta sauce. And some luxury items, like grapes and strawberries, and hell some peaches too.

You haven't had fresh fruit in so long. You welcome foods that aren't drenched in sodium and don't require microwaves with open arms. Sure, instant ramen was good and all, but like-

Fresh food better.

You approach the line to pay, and you're genuinely excited!

As you put your food items on the conveyor belt, you can’t help the smile on your face. You have decent food, holy shit! Look at you! Advancing to levels you haven't reached in so long thanks to the lack of funds! Thanks, mystical sugar daddy!

It's your turn to pay, and you're met with your favorite cashier, Papyrus. See, he’s a very tall, boisterous skeleton who always greets you kindly as he scans your items, practically oozing optimism and has “model employee” written all over him. He really seems intimidating at the first glance, but He’s actually an absolute delight and a real treat.

“AH, HELLO MISS Y/N! DID YOU FIND EVERYTHING OKAY TODAY?”

The skeleton goes through the entire employee spiel like he's not being forced to do it, and it's so genuine. Damn, if that isn't admirable. And then he actually notices what you've brought to purchase today.

You smile. “I did Papyrus, thank you.”

His eyes start to sparkle, and he gain the widest grin on his face.

“Y/N!!! YOU'VE ACTUALLY PURCHASED REAL FRESH FOOD? ESPECIALLY PASTA?! THE HEALTHY SPAGHETTI KIND? AND FRUITS??!!!” He emphasizes on the pasta portion, rubbing the packaged pasta you've picked up against his boney cheek.

“YOU'VE FINALLY SEEN THE LIGHT Y/N! NO MORE UNHEALTHY SODIUM-RICH, HEART ATTACK RISK FOODS!” He spins around in his spot, batting his nonexistent eyelashes. You can see the anime stars flying off his person.

You're giggling as you pull out the card gifted to you.

“I found it surprisingly easily considering I've been stuck in the soups aisle for a solid year and a half.
Real character development, I guess.” You shrug it off with a growing smile as Papyrus starts up again.

“REAL CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT INDEED. AND OF COURSE YOU FOUND SUCH DELICACIES SO EASILY! ESPECIALLY IN THE PASTA AISLE! IF YOU CANNOT TELL, I'M THE ONE WHO ORGANIZED THAT SECTION MYSELF, MAKING IT VERY EASY FOR SMALL HUMANS LIKE YOURSELF TO ACQUIRE PASTA INGREDIENTS! AS YOU CAN SEE, I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, AM QUITE THE CONNOISSEUR.” He finishes off his animated speech with a pose. His scarf flipping in the non-existent wind.

What a cool dude. He's an absolutely adorable monster that you can't help but smile with.

“How else would I have been able to find such ingredients to match my pasta blueprints without the Great Papyrus's help?” You both end up laughing, your laughs complimenting his joyful “NYEH-HEH-HEH” ‘s.

Ahh, classic.

“...Ahem.” Comes a voice from behind you.

OH. RIGHT. There's people behind you.

Papyrus leans over the counter to whisper to you.
Or attempt to whisper to you.

You're holding back snickers.

“MISS Y/N.”

“Yes, Papyrus?”

“YOU SHOULD SWIPE YOUR GIFT CARD NOW.”

And so you do, paying with the new card. He hands you your bags with an award winning smile, and he waves you off.

“GOODBYE MISS Y/N! HOPE YOU ENJOY THE SURPRISE!”

And then Papyrus covers his mouth like a child who said something they weren't supposed to.

You raise an eyebrow and laugh it off, thinking it's just a Papyrus thing.

You heft your bag over your shoulder, and walk out of the market.

Again passing by another three-skulled symbol on painted on the wall.

As you hum on your way home, you think about Papyrus and the other skeleton monster you saw a while back. Papyrus has mentioned a lazy brother in passing, but you can't just associate the slightly shorter skeleton monster with the other skeleton monster you see on an almost every-other weekly basis.

That's just racist.

Anyway, you make your way back up the stairs to your floor, and pull out your keys, dicking around on your phone as you do so. You approach the apartment door when you notice the new package sitting on your doorstep, along with a single huge box, with another note laying on top of it.

No way.

Seriously?

Again?!

You almost drop everything at the sight of the two packages.

Haha, kidding.

You do drop everything and run up to the huge box in front of your door, and pick up the sealed note with your name in lowercase almost Papyrus-like font.

You immediately open it, and are greeted by lowercase Papyrus script.

hey honey, chickadee.
the others were all doting on this cute little broke girl, and’ i decided to chip in.
hope you enjoy the new couch.
-o

Are they shitting you right now?

HOW THE FUCK DID THEY EXPECT YOU TO PUT A WHOLE ASS COUCH TOGETHER BY YOURSELF?

Chapter Text

You sighed as you closed your apartment door behind you and then stared at the two new packages sitting in what could only be called your living room.

Foreboding little fuckers, honestly. Gifts that you totally needed, but like..a whole ass couch?

And it was a really nice couch too. It wasn’t a ripoff UKEA brand or anything, like your futon. You bought that bad boy with one of your first paychecks when you moved into your now lived in apartment. It felt great. Not as comfortable as a real mattress, but it was one of the first real things you bought for yourself. That was when everything was well…

Better. When you had high hopes, a stable living, when nothing went horribly, horribly wrong.

Anyway, when you brought that futon home, it was way easier to bring into your house than this thing.

You had to struggle to push the furniture box into your apartment, and whilst you were inching the thing into your apartment, a lighter, medium sized package fell off of it.  Score for you, another gift!

Back to the present, You grab a peach out of your barely used fruit bowl, as you looked up the couch brand and model on your phone. Also, Wow. You can use your fruit bowl now. Holy shit.

From the pictures of it online, it looked like a small cozy gray sectional that you could squeeze into the corner of your apartment. It was around five-hundred from the listing, but it was easily way more than you could afford lately. Clearly, you're gonna need to call someone up for this one because you're incompetent and barely know how to assemble anything. Even with directions.

But before you even attempt that..

You take a bite out of the peach as you sit down in front of the new packages, with the three letters you've received recently to the side of you, along with a pair of scissors and other furniture assembling tools.

Time for you to play detective and attempt to connect the dots! It’s been so long since anything this interesting has happened to you, and it’s one part scary, and two parts exciting.

Let’s figure out who’s been treating the hell out of you!

As far as similarities go between the letters, they've all been sealed with the same three-skulled insignia, and all the people who've sent you things seemed to know each other, according to O’s letter anyway.

So that's one thing to go off of. They all know each other, so it's not multiple, multiple sources. Just a gang. Or something.

Next, they all seem to have similar handwriting, minus O’s. D.S and R's handwriting is practically almost the same, but who’d write two different letters and sign with two different initials?

That’s a little much, even for possible multi-millionaires. And How bored do these people have to be to use the most stupidly notorious fonts possible? Sure, it’s funny and all that, but that doesn’t lead you to finding out who’s been doing all this for you.

Maybe that's what they want. Maybe they don't want you to find out who they are, and maybe they don't want you to find out anything about them.

But that wouldn't make sense in the first place!

If they didn't want you to find them, what's the point of doing all this? They'd have to want something in return, and you certainly have to thank them once you find out who it is. They want you to play some kind of game in order to find them, because they're leaving clues for you.

Like the initials, the handwriting, the letters, the seal..

That damn seal. Those three skulls on it have to mean something. But you legit can't come up with any ideas as to what those three signify.

It could mean it's just three people at the head of this whole deal, or it could be that they thought the three skulls were cool and intimidating. Or it could mean that they're legitimate skeletons? Or that there's three brothers running this?

Fuck, your head hurts. You're grasping at straws, and making shit up off the top of your head. This isn't  getting you anywhere.

You look away from the three letters, and look at both packages sitting in front of you.

You're really grateful for the two new things sitting in your apartment, but, why would they send you more things? After the money and the card, you still get more? It barely makes sense to you.

It feels like they're treating you as a pet project for them or something. Which, sounds kinda demeaning, but god, if you aren't happy to be their pet project.

You never look a gift horse in the mouth, or whatever, right?

This is all so crazy to you, being absolutely spoiled by a group of at least three(?) people with all this cash at their disposal. And now they sent you some new furniture and a possible sweater or something.

Speaking of which, you should open up the smaller package. You already know what's in the behemoth of a box in front of you.

You grab the softer package, and shake it for good measure.

It's a basketball!

You laugh at your own dumb joke, and cut the package open. You pull out a folded black blanket.

Oh? It's really soft, so soft that you're rubbing it against your face.

God you're definitely using it tonight to relish in all this softness.

But in order to reach maximum comfort with it, you gotta unfold this bad boi. You cross your fingers and hope there's no more surprises.

Breathe.

As the folded blanket evolves into unfolded blanket, you hold it up to stare at it in all its glory,

Another note falls out of it and you're faced with that motherfucking insignia, embroidered beautifully onto the soft, thick fabric. And to top it all off each skull is embroidered with two different colored threads.

The first skull, on top of the other two in, is split in half. The left half is a rich, dark blue, and the right half is a creamsicle orange.  At first glance, it's not too pretty, but..the combination has grown on you.

Next, the second skull on the left of the pyramid formation the three skulls are in, is in a variation of red. The left half of the second skull is a dark red, and the right half is a muted maroon. Now this one, this one is really pretty.

The last skull, next to the red one is interesting. It's like the dark blue and orange one on top, but the colors are switched. This skull has a deep muted orange on the left half, and then a light, almost neon blue on the right.

Surrounding the pyramid of skulls is just little bones, stacked up on top of each other.

It's clear so much effort went into this. It's absolutely beautiful work. You feel like you should frame it instead of actually using it.

But fuck that! It's a good blanket! It was made for cuddles!

You wrap the blanket around your shoulders, and grab the note that came with it.

Sealed with the three skulls, like everything else. Your name is written in all caps and papyrus font on the front.

Oh God. Another one? Another author to keep track of?

You open it up and begin to read:

MISS Y/N,

I HOPE YOU ENJOY THIS BLANKET I MADE! I PUT LOTS AND LOTS OF EFFORT INTO IT SO IT WOULD GIVE YOU THE MOST MAXIMUM COMFORT! I HOPE THE HANDIWORK IS TO YOUR LIKING! STR-

This part is scribbled out. The writer must've slipped. Almost gave away too much information, you'll bet.

EXCUSE ME, O SAID HE NEEDED SOMETHING TO GO WITH THE COUCH AS A GIFT, SO I TOOK MATTERS INTO MY OWN HANDS AND MADE YOU THIS LOVELY GIFT! A CUSTOMARY “THROW BLANKET” BY YOURS TRULY!

I HOPE YOU HAVE ENJOY THE MANY MANY NAPS YOU TAKE ON THE COUCH WITH IT.

(EVEN THOUGH I PERSONALLY DON'T APPROVE OF SUCH LAZINESS, MY BROTHER SAYS HUMANS TYPICALLY TAKE THEM AFTER A LONG DAY AND PREFER TO BE COMFORTED WITH SOFT SOURCES OF WARMTH LIKE HE DOES, AND I KNOW YOU'LL HAVE MANY LONG DAYS AFTER THIS, SO HERE'S A SOFT PIECE OF WARMTH FOR YOUR NAPS.)

O ALSO SAYS THAT HUMANS LIKE HAVING BLANKETS ON THEIR COUCHES FOR DECORATION AS WELL. HE CALLS THEM, “THROW BLANKETS.” AND SAID YOU'D PROBABLY LIKE ONE WITH THE SOFA. SO HERE YOU GO!

BEST WISHES MISS Y/N,

-P.

You inwardly coo and laugh at the ridiculousness of the letter. So, you have another lead now, and another author of letters too. So, P knows O, and O knows D.S and R. And P has a brother, and great embroidering skills.

You lay backwards as you go over the note and notice one other thing. They referred to you as human. And they talked about humans as if they weren't one.

So, you're dealing with monsters. And, that actually makes a lot of sense, when you mull over all of the details you have so far. Monsters are literally made of  kindness, have a shit ton of gold from the mountain they've been stuck under, so… it makes perfect sense as to why these people would have a crap ton of money to throw around on their pet project broke girl.

There you have it! Somewhat of an actual lead! Nice! Monsters. That narrows down your search, by a lot.

You pull the blanket in front of you, and run your hands over the design on the front of it.

This seriously has to mean something. Maybe you could look it up?

No shit, dumbass, now you just think of that?!

You smack a palm to your face and voice your frustration in a loud, drawn out groan.

Why didn't you just do that in the first place?!

You scramble off of your kitchen floor and walk to your bedroom and grab your laptop.

The internet is a blessing.

You open up a tab on Shrome and begin typing.

Three-Skulled Insignia meaning

Hit enter, and now we wait.

You watch that little circle in the corner go round and round and round. And round. And round and round. And round one more time.

Then it just stops.

Oh no.

Nonono.

C'mon!

Right now?

Seriously? You smack your laptop, just to see if your caveman approach will do anything.

Tragically, you're faced with that dumb little dinosaur.

Ugh, You weren't what killed the dinosaurs this time around, because the fucking internet went out.

You feel a strained smile coming on.

Perfect. Juuust perfect. No finding out what anything means, no getting any closer to finding out who's doing this to you. Ugh, maybe you should try your phone?-

You walk back to your kitchen, only to be greeted by the sound of the default ringtone of your phone.  

Who's calling?

You pick up without bothering to look at the number.

“Hello?”

“Hello, is this Y/N L/N?

“Speaking.”

“Uh, I'm here to tell you that you've got the job at Bar and Grillby's, and that you start tomorrow.

“Wait, seriously?”

Whoa holy shit, you forgot you applied for jobs! And holy shit you got a job? There of all places?!

You don't even remember applying there, but hey, you'll take it. This restaurant is notorious for it's good food, and amazing drinks, along with its atmosphere, and staff. Especially with the Stand up comedy every Friday, and music performances twice a month.

It's crazy popular. A tourist trap for everyone in New Ebott. It's mainly monster run, and both humans and monsters flock there. Magic infused drinks and food draw almost everyone in. They all love it.

“Yes. See you tomorrow, you'll be trained under..Mr. Aster. Good luck, Ms.Y/N.

“Thank you so much! See you tomorrow!"

Why and what would you need luck for? What the hell is up with this Mr.Aster to the point where you would need good luck? Whatever is up with this guy couldn't be that bad.

You got the job, and that's all that matters.

It can't be that bad, right?

~XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO~

You arrive at the restaurant bright and early. You introduced yourself to the staff which consists of:

A Froggit named Barry who washes the dishes, along with a Woshua named Harold who also cleaned up around the kitchen, bar, and main restaurant section.

Apparently he's so good at it, to the point where it's really only him and his brother who clean up after.

No one else is as on par with them when it comes to cleaning.

Next you had the head waitresses Catty and Bratty, both of whom were very chatty and interested in the new human girl who worked with them.

They reminded you of some kids at your high school that worked at the student store, and counted your change wrong. You asked the two to break your five dollar bill into singles, and they gave you three bucks instead of five.

You'll never ever forget that. YOU COULD'VE USED THOSE EXTRA TWO DOLLARS RIGHT NOW TIFFANY!

Then you've got the kitchen staff: two Pyropes named Charr and Coal, A King Froggit, a KnightKnight, and a good handful of human sous-chefs, under those four monster chefs.

Then the owner and bartender, Grillby. Whom you nervously shook hands with when you entered, afraid that he would burn you to the touch. (Dude is a fire elemental, and you've been told all your life not to play with fire.)

But, surprisingly you were met with a warm handshake, the warmth in the touch practically made you feel like you were back home, under that blanket made for you.

You looked up from the handshake, and greeted Grillby with a proper smile, and you took the way his flames crackled as a proper welcome.

He handed you your uniform,  which was just a white, long sleeve button down, and a some black slacks. Both of which, were surprisingly your size.

You went into the bathroom to change, and came back to the bar, looking for the flame elemental, only to be greeted by the back of a tall, skeleton dressed in black like you, only wearing accents of red.

His hands were donned in red gloves, and around his neck was a well worn scarf. Is this even allowed in this kind of setting? Fire Hazards or whatever?

From the way the figure held himself, he looked confident, sharp, and intimidating. His stature practically screamed demanding. It’s clear that He knew he belonged there, he knew people had to listen to him.

He just had this air around him.

As you approached him to tap him on the shoulder, you noticed how he was easily a head or two over your 5’6 stature. You had to stand on your tippy toes to get his attention, and you haven't done that since you were a little kid.

You cleared your throat to get his attention as you tapped him on the shoulder.

“Excuse me, but uh, what happened to Mr. Grillby?”

Then he turned around.

You thought he was intimidating then, take that, and multiply it by a fuckton. The dude had at least three long scars over his right eye socket, packed with red eyelights. Plus the dude had FANGS.

Even though he was scary as shit the dude was incredibly hot and handsome as he was intimidating.

LIKE. HE HAS FANGS. WHO DOESN'T LIKE FANGS.

Usually you'd agree with your fang-loving morals, but you in this situation, you don't like fangs when they're in a scowl directed at you.

You felt yourself step back a couple steps.

“WHO ARE YOU?”

Oof, he sounded like Skeletor, but like an octave lower.

“U-Uh. Y/N L/N. I'm the new-hire, and Mr.Grillby said to come back here when I changed into the uniform for training..?”

Then, the skeleton laughed, and held out his hand.

Even when he laughed that stupid laugh, it was hot.

“I'M EDGE ASTER, BUT YOU ARE CALLING ME BOSS.”

Oh God.

“I'M THE MANAGER AND HEAD CHEF OF BAR AND GRILLBY'S, ASIDE FROM GRILLBY HIMSELF.”

You placed your hand into Boss’ huge one.

“AND YOU, MISS L/N, ARE GETTING PERSONALLY TRAINED BY YOURS TRULY.”

You shake his hand, and holyshit is his grip strong.

“I BET YOUR PATHETIC LITTLE HUMAN HANDS WON'T BE ABLE TO KEEP UP WITH WHAT I'M ABOUT TO PUT YOU THROUGH.”

Then he gave you the smuggest, most shit eating smirk possible.

Oh hell no.

”Don't you dare underestimate me Mister Skeleton Man, I'll let you know that I can-”

And there was only one thing running through Boss’ head as you began to go off on him.

He was going to have so much fun aggravating the absolute, bloody, hell out of this tiny human girl his brother and his copies had entrusted him to watch over.

Chapter Text

Holy shit. Couldn't be that bad my ass.

Wow, understatement of the century.

It, no, He really was that bad.

You seriously needed that luck, because Boss was, well-

A brutal mother fucking prick. Or it seemed like that anyway.

Because Oh my GOD. That fuckface had you working your whole entire asshole off,  dragging your appearance, the work ethic he had no idea about, all the while bragging about himself and his own accomplishments!

Like right now. Because he’s currently piling dirty dishes on top of the tray you’re holding, just to test your strength.

“YOU CAN TAKE ANOTHER TEN PLATES. TWENTY-SEVEN, FULL-SIZE DINNER PLATES ARE NOT THAT HEAVY. STOP YOUR PATHETIC ARMS FROM SHAKING, I COULD HANDLE TWICE THE WEIGHT WHEN I WAS TRAINING FOR THE ROYAL GUARD. PLEASE, MISS L/N. YOU’RE NOW WORKING AT ONE OF THE MOST PRESTIGIOUS RESTAURANTS IN NEW EBOTT, YOU MUST BE ABLE TO HANDLE MORE THAN THIS.”

“N..No more! I will drop all of these! Seriously!”

“DROPPING THINGS IS FOR THE WEAK!’ He added more plates to the tray you were holding.

“And I am very very weak!”.

There they go.

Before you humiliate yourself in front of your employer any further, an aura of deep maroon surrounds the tray and gently lowers it to the ground.

“HOW DISAPPOINTING.” He picks the tray off the ground and sets it on one of the tables. Currently, everyone is out of the building for the day, since they closed early.  

“SEEMS I WILL HAVE TO PUT YOU THROUGH THE RINGER AFTER ALL. MY LITTLE AMOUNT OF HOPE FOR YOU HAS DISAPPEARED.”

You could barely even feel your arms in general! Holy crap, that was heavy.

That just shows how hard this guy had you working.

“You piled like fifty-”

“THIRTY-SEVEN!-”

“Yes! Whatever, thirty-seven plates onto my nonexistent muscles!  I could barely hold those! I’m not a monster with ultra strength, and I barely work out!”

“STILL. HOW VERY DISAPPOINTING. LET’S SEE IF YOU’RE ANY BETTER BUSSING TABLES RATHER THAN DOING HEAVY LIFTING. AFTER THAT, I’LL SEE TO IT THAT YOU GAIN MUSCLES WHILST WORKING AT THIS ESTABLISHMENT.”

You couldn't even joke around this dude! You were way too afraid to even attempt to joke with him. Besides being intimidatingly hot as fuck with all his sharp edges, cheekbones, jawlines, his fangs...he was an actual prick. He seemed so uptight, especially with how he spoke and how he ordered you around.  

Sure the dude had earned himself three Michelin Stars and was the Captain of The Royal Guard, he had every right to boss you around, but like. He didn’t have to be so boastful and in your face about it.

Now he’s having you bus every single table on the restaurant side, which by the way, IS ALMOST HALF OF THE MOTHERFUCKING BUILDING ITSELF. He had no one help you, and he fucking timed you.

”YOU HAVE FIFTEEN MINUTES TO CLEAR ALL 60 TABLES ON THE RESTAURANT SIDE. I WILL BE MONITORING YOUR POSTURE, THE AMOUNT OF NOISE YOU MAKE, AND THE EFFICIENCY IN WHICH YOU GET THIS DONE. DO NOT COMPLAIN, AS THAT WILL CAUSE YOU TO LOSE TWO MINUTES OFF YOUR TIME. THIS IS JUST TO SEE IF YOU CAN HANDLE BUSSING, AS THE RESTAURANT DOES GET VERY BUSY AND FULL OF TRAFFIC, AND BAR AND GRILLBY'S ONLY DESERVES THE BEST, AND I'M NOT TOO CONFIDENT IN YOUR ABILITIES, AS YOU COULDN’T HOLD EVEN FORTY DINNER PLATES.”

“A FEAT EVEN I WAS ABLE TO DO AS A BUSBOY IN YOUR POSITION WHEN I WAS FRESH OUT OF THE UNDERGROUND SEVEN YEARS AGO. IF YOU TRIED HARD ENOUGH, MAYBE, JUST MAYBE YOU COULD GET TO MY POSITION ONE DAY, BUT FOR NOW..”

He looks you up and down, taking in your stature, then chuckles softly.

Wow, okay. Really? That was a little unnecessary.  

“GOOD LUCK, GIRL.”

He smirks and pulls out a stopwatch, hands you the bus tub, and you were off.

“Whatever. I'll be back here in no time, Boss.”

You grumble rolling your eyes when you think you're out of sight. Ugh, you really didn’t need to feel bad about your lack of accomplishments right now.

Anyway, at first, you tried to carefully take each plate and put them into the tub one by one, as delicately and as quietly as possible. You had fifteen minutes anyway, so you still have a good chunk of ti-

“YOU SERIOUSLY EXPECT ME TO SEAT PEOPLE AND TAKE GUEST ORDERS WHEN YOU'RE TAKING THIS LONG? I’LL HAVE AN ENTIRE CROWD OF PEOPLE WAITING TO BE SEATED SOLELY BECAUSE YOU CAN BARELY MOVE YOUR ASS FROM TABLE TO TABLE. GET MOVING.”

You inwardly curse and mock Boss under your breath as you quicken your pace, taking out ten tables in your wake. Well what does he know? Also, I just started here asshole, maybe give me a second to get into the groove of things and get used to my surroundings, especially when I’ve got 60 fucking tables, just because you've got three Michelin stars doesn't mean you're better than me, ass-

“13 MINUTES, MISS L/N.”

You outwardly groan and start working faster, the clatter of the dishes increasing in volume as you push them into the bus tub.

“YOU’RE MAKING TOO MUCH NOISE, PUT YOUR THUMB UNDER THE PLATES AND CUPS AS YOU’RE PUTTING THEM INTO THE TUB, IT DAMPENS THE SOUND. AND MAKE SURE TO WIPE THE ENTIRE TABLE CLEAN. I'M MANAGER AND CO-CHEF OF THIS PLACE FOR A REASON. I COULD HAVE A CHILD DO BETTER THAN YOU.”

You guess you were making too much noise for his sensitive, non-existent ears! He wanted you to work fast, be quiet, and make sure to clean everything decently? With this amount of tables and dirty dishware? Within fifteen- excuse me, thirteen minutes? Give me a fucking break dude.

“Of course, Mr. Aster, Boss sir.” Your tone short and annoyed.

How does he even know about this? Also, I get this is a high-end place, but seriously, even the noise the busboys make have to be down to a minimum?  You let put a low whistle at the thought while you wipe the table you're at clean.

You're getting paid, this is keeping you afloat. You have to deal with this Y/n. Be grateful.

You walk across the floor, and you immediately feel a pressure on your back, straightening your back up and pulling your shoulders back.

Oh come on! Seriously? Does he think he's training boot camp or something?

You look behind you and notice Boss, his gloved hands on your back. He raises a brow at your surprised expression, and motions his head towards your back.

“STRAIGHTEN YOUR NECK, HOLD YOUR HEAD UP STRAIGHT, AND PULL YOUR SHOULDERS BACK. SERIOUSLY, DON’T YOU KNOW HOW TO DO ANYTHING? HOW TO FUNCTION? WE HAVE A REPUTATION TO HOLD UP AT THIS RESTAURANT YOU KNOW. YOU'RE LUCKY YOU GOT A JOB HERE, LOOKING LIKE THAT.”

You barely even realized how bad your posture had gotten, holy crap. But also, what's wrong with the way you held yourself? This guy doesn't know jack shit about you, he has no right to even say something like that.

“GET MOVING NOW, YOUR TIME IS RUNNING OUT. YOU KNOW, I WOULD'VE BEEN DONE BY NOW.” He says with a handsome smirk like he's better than you. God.

Ugh. He may be hot, but his personality most certainly was not.

He pats you on the back like he's setting you off and you glower at him in response.

You continue to walk on with your newly attained, proper posture. And finish clearing all the tables with Boss’ directions, almost tripping a couple of times because you weren’t walking fast enough for him, and he said you needed to lengthen your steps or whatever to walk faster...it was all bullshit anyway.

You ended up standing in front of him a little past the fifteen minutes he allotted you with two busboy tubs under your arms. You’re a little more than exhausted, especially when you had to carry the growing weight of a shitton of ceramic plates and glasses. Your arms were killing you.

He raises an eyebrow once again and makes a gesture to your entire body.

Right. Posture. Ew.

“FINALLY. THAT TOOK YOU TWENTY FIVE MINUTES, ARE YOU AWARE OF THAT?”

Shit, you took longer than you expected. You shake your head and look up at him. You knew you'd be over the time limit, but you didn't think you'd take the extra ten minutes. Then again, you did almost trip...a lot. And you did complain.

He runs his fingers over the last table you cleaned and rubs them together. He looks over the last tables you took care of before returning to stand in front of you.

“HMM..SOME OF THESE TABLES AREN'T WIPED PROPERLY LIKE I ASKED YOU TO. IS IT REALLY THAT HARD TO DO SUCH A TRIVIAL TASK?”

“No, but then again I had 60 other tables to take care of. I'm very much a newbie, and I had a time limit, so I had to at least clear all of the tables and take my sound level, speed, and posture into account Boss. Fifteen minutes isn't a whole lot of time to take care of that amount of tables and do a good job.”

He scowls and takes the bus tubs away from you and disappears into the kitchen. He comes back with two piles of clean dinner plates and one of those folding tables. He puts both piles of dinner plates on the table, and grabs four plates, balancing two on each arm, then grabs another two plates, holding one in each of his hands.

“What are you doing..?”

“SHUT UP AND WATCH. TIME ME.” He grumbles something regarding a lazy brother and stooping to his level as a deep red aura surrounds the stopwatch from earlier and floats itself over into your hands.

He then proceeds to go back and forth between every table, serving and plating them each with four to six plates, in record time. Long strides, quiet serving, excellent table setting, all in the span of 10 minutes. Holy shit.

Then he grabs two empty busboy trays and proceeds to do the same thing you struggled to do in 25 minutes in 12 minutes flat. He finished everything in less time than you took to clean the entire dining section.

Guess those are tall monster benefits. Huh.

He comes back and stands in front of you, dusting his hands off.

“HOW’D I DO?”

“22 minutes flat, with everything, Boss. I..wow.”

“IMPRESSED BY MY SPEED, AREN’T YOU, RUNT?”

“I’m not even that shorter than you!” Then again, he’s like seven feet tall..

“YOU’RE NEW. YOU’RE SIGNIFICANTLY SHORTER THAN ME UNDER MONSTER STANDARDS, SO. RUNT. ANYWAYS, NOW I’M GIVING YOU THE SAME TIME LIMIT, SAME RULES. BUT, YOU HAVE TO CARRY AT LEAST FOUR PLATES AT A TIME SINCE I BELIEVE THAT IS THE LEAST YOUR PATHETIC HUMAN NOODLE ARMS CAN HANDLE. READY?”

You reluctantly sigh and mutter, “I fucking guess.”

“EXCUSE ME? IS THAT ANY WAY TO SPEAK TO YOUR SUPERIOR?”

You straighten up and nervously smile at the sound of his angered tone. “Of course not, Boss. I’m ready Boss.”

He hands you your starting set, and you’re off once again. Setting tables, keeping your posture and sound level in mind. You can feel your arms screaming at you, saying ‘Hey, uh... What the fuck? We don’t know how to work like this? stOP IT!’

And yet you kept going, ignoring your burning arms, knowing you were going to be incredibly sore after all this exertion. You were practically jogging around the dining floor at this point, trying to finish in time.

Again, having almost tripped again. Your balance is so off with all of these heavy plates on you, ohmygod..

You reach the last table with a sigh of relief and mimic Boss’ earlier movements, and suddenly you feel yourself trip over something.

In the time before you hit the ground, you notice your untied shoelace.

You prep yourself for impact and finally giving into gravity’s demands when you don’t.

I mean, you still fell of course, but instead of meeting the hardwood floor, you’re met with the sight of a black button-down, and a red scarf. You look up from your savior’s chest, only to be met with the sight of the scowling skull of your skeletal higher-up.

Oh god, you just fell on your boss. You just fell on Boss. You fell. On top of BOSS. On your training day.

You get up and stutter out like forty million apologies, scrambling back up to your feet, dusting both yours and the monster’s uniform off, your face burning a bright scarlet.

“Holy shit, Boss I am so sorry, I seriously never meant to fall on you- Also, are you okay? That was a hard fall the both of us took there, but also at the same time thank you so so much, that would've hurt like a bitch, that was also super unprofessional and like the third time I’ve cussed in front of my own damn employer like a dumbass, god fucking damnit I did it again, but seriously I am so sorry, Thank you so much, and I’m really sorry.”

All he does is sigh and pat you on the head. “THAT WAS INSULTING, HAVING A NEWBIE FALL ON TOP OF ME LIKE THAT AFTER TAKING TWENTY MINUTES TO SET TABLES. , BUT I WILL LET YOU KNOW THAT I, THE GREAT AND HORRIFYING EDGE, CULINARY EXTRAORDINAIRE, ACCEPT BOTH YOUR APOLOGY AND YOUR THANKS. SEEING AS NO ONE CAN RESIST MY CHARMS, IT ONLY MAKES SENSE THAT YOU WOULD FALL FOR ME, RUNT, ESPECIALLY IN YOUR DELUSIONARY EXHAUSTION..”

You snort. Sure, he's handsome and hot, but you definitely wouldn't fall for him!

“IS THIS FUNNY TO YOU? YOU ARE THE ONE THAT MADE ME FALL, AND FRANKLY, TO ME, NOTHING ABOUT THIS SITUATION SEEMS FUNNY.”

You suppress the smile on your face and clear your throat.

“No, Not at all Boss. I apologize.”

After your conversation, he sends you back to change out of your work uniform and back into your normal people clothes.

“COME BACK TOMORROW, AND ARRIVE AT THE  SAME TIME. BUT YOU'LL ACTUALLY BE WORKING WITH PATRONS TOMORROW. DO NOT BE LATE.”

You nod. “Thank you for taking the fall for me Boss, and for, training me.”

“I'M NOT DONE WITH YOUR TRAINING, MISS L/N. TODAY WAS JUST THE START. BE PREPARED TOMORROW.”

“GOOD NIGHT RUNT, AND BE WARY OF YOUR SURROUNDINGS ON YOUR WAY HOME.”

“Thanks, I guess?” You shake off the ominous warning as you gather your things.

And with your exchanged pleasantries with Boss, you were parting ways, and returning back home.

The cool evening air felt nice on your skin, you thought, holding your work clothes closer to your chest. The walk back from Bar And Grillby’s is a little longer than your usual walks to places like the grocery store, coffee shop or the bank.

So you had time to enjoy the scenery and unknowingly pass by that small familiar symbol engraved into the wall of the establishment you now work at.

As you make your way back to your apartment, you note the feeling of a stare being burned into your back.  You know that could just be you being paranoid, because a. It’s dark out, and b. You;ve always been a paranoid in person in general.

But at the sound of footsteps, you suddenly take Boss’ words into account.

Be wary, he said.

You look around the street you’re currently on, taking in all the nooks and crannies of each building, and looking behind you, only to be faced with what looks like nothing. You attempt to shrug it off.

You’re just paranoid, Y/N. Boss just got you thinking about things. You couldn’t be followed. It’s probably nothing

You keep waking, especially a little faster considering the fact that you swear that you’re being followed now. You hear the occasional footstep behind you come back, and when you look back, you knew you saw a figure in the shadows. You fucking know it.

We’re not fucking dying today! You’re almost home, almost home. Almost there. Just ignore the weird dark, looming figure behind you, and you’ll be fine. You let out a shaky breath and steel yourself as you slightly quicken your pace a little more. You shake your head, and continue forward.

Then comes a deep chuckle from who knows where, and well, that was the last straw for you. You were already creeped out enough as it is, so,

You booked it.  

FUCK THAT NOISE FUCK THAT NOISE FUCK THAT NOISE FUCK THAT NOISE FUCK THAT NOISEFUCKTHATNOISEFUCKTHATNOISEEEE!!!!

You’re not taking your chances today!

You ran faster than you ever have in your life into your apartment building, and even up into your room. You ignored the questioning looks you got from some of your neighbors, barely checking their mail.

You almost tripped over the couch box sitting in your kitchen as you made your way to your futon. You quickly get under your covers, breathing heavily. You try to calm yourself down, looking up at your ceiling.  

“Holy. Holy shit.” You put a hand over your rising and falling chest, and laugh hysterically. Oh my god, after your tortuous day with your skeletal dictator of a Boss, you were almost attacked, or something worse along those lines.

How the hell are you supposed to deal with this? You have a prick of a boss, some monster organization sending you gifts and money for some unknown reason, said monster organization fuvking knows where you live, and on top of that whole fucking ordeal, you were practically followed home!

Your life just got waay weirder, you thought as you flipped over onto your side, facing your window.

And before you fully fell into sleep’s clutches, you saw the smallest flash of blue on the street outside your window, followed by same laugh from earlier.

“sleep tight, kiddo.”

You didn’t sleep too well that night.

Chapter Text

After the initial training day with Boss, things got both a little harder and a little easier, you noted whilst you clocked into of work.

Waving hello to your skeletal higher-up and your various coworkers, you pulled out your earbuds and started your trek to the staff room to put all your stuff down.

You let your mind wander as you meander across the restaurant, making light conversation as you passed your monster coworkers. The atmosphere was calm and peaceful, seeing as today’s shift was an afternoon one. Quiet background chatter greeted your ears as you went deeper into the restaurant. The perfect kind of noise to zone out to.

A lot has changed.

Throughout your first week with actual customers, Boss had been out on the floor with you, both subtly criticizing you and showing you the ropes aside from what he’d taught you yesterday. He had shown you the fastest way to get to certain areas of the restaurant, how to abbreviate the food and drink orders like the cooking staff were used to, when to check in on customers, packing leftovers, etcetera.

And yes, the way he had you check in always ensured you that at least one person at the table had food in their mouth.

You never thought you'd learn how to do that! Waiters always had excellent timing, and now you! You now have gained that skill of perfect timing.

Anyway, The next few weeks calmed down Boss-wise, sure as hell not work wise. It was definitely hectic, the restaurant packed to the brim every night. You had to help out take reservations more than once, dealing with snobby and desperate people alike. Along with one persistent prank-caller.

He always asked if Bar and Grillby's had updog, If the refrigerator was running, and sometimes with phony complaints. Hair in the pasta, glass in the lasagna, all that kind of dumb stuff.

By then Boss always snatches the phone to yell something incoherent into the receiver, and you usually die laughing just watching the lanky skeleton get all worked up, yelling "WHAT IS 'UPDOG???' ALSO STOP CALLING ME AT WORK, YOU LAZY IMBECILE!"

You have no idea how the restaurant hasn't gotten any actual complaints with Boss' yelling at least every other weekday. Maybe they found it just as entertaining as you do.

Laughing, you shrugged the thought off, ignoring the questioning stares of the customers as you walked past to serve a table. Your body going on autopilot as you walked back to another table to take orders as best as you could in your head-in-the-clouds state.

Returning to the kitchen with said orders you handed it over to the KnightKnight in the staff, Cheryl.

Before you left with the next table’s food orders, your eyes landed on two people in the kitchen.

Boss, and a human sous-chef.

Boss was every step of the way, you noted with an internal groan. He was one of the head chefs and manager at the restaurant, yet here he was, holding the newbie’s hand throughout all of her training process. Taught you how to handle food, how to handle customers, bussing tables, the works.  You were both appreciative of his dedication and a little annoyed with it.

Catty and Bratty made fun of you for it too. “He’s totally, like...babying you, newbie. He likes you,  you’re totally special! He’s not this clingy with just anyone, you know?”

Ugh.

Yes, he was there every single time you needed help or some type of explanation, but at the same time, he was such a damn helicopter about it. He berated you half the time, whether it be about something you didn’t know or something you were very much aware of, and he was just being an asshole about it. You sure as hell don't think you're a "special case" to him.

One time you asked where the sink was during your second week, and you were standing in front of it, but for some dumbass reason, you were completely unaware of it. And so, Boss had turned you around and called you a “BLIND IMBECILE” then carried his work day out like normal (meaning he still name called you when you passed each other by in the kitchen, mockingly pointing things out to you.) He had such a smug air around him. He’s definitely got a complex or something.

Boss definitely eased up on it as you fell into the groove of things and got a good handle on the ropes. You were able to serve tables, handle the payment and ordering system, set at least ten tables in acceptable Boss-time, and provide excellent top-notch Boss Approved™ customer service.

His insults became less hurtful, you noted with delight. His intensity has died down a little bit!

And you could finally joke with him. Kinda.

Instead of calling you a slow-ass, he’s upgraded to slow-poke. Boss replaced “PATHETIC” with a more affectionate “NOODLE-ARMS”. He still kept fixing your posture though, something about it affecting your mood and your work performance, and how it always explained your initial crappy work quality. You retorted back, telling him that the stick up his ass that was keeping his back straight sure as hell wasn’t improving his mood in any kind of way.

He actually laughed at that, to your surprise. You never actually thought you’d ever get to hear him laugh.

It was shocking to witness a genuine laugh that wasn't directed towards you. It was a little Skeletor like but deeper, hell it sounded like he had to stop himself from snorting.

It was nice.

But he still kept on calling you Runt though.

“I’LL CALL YOU BY YOUR REAL NAME WHEN YOU GET A PROMOTION, RUNT.”

And that was the end of that conversation.

Runt became your nickname around the whole establishment as well. Ugh. Everyone used it. The chefs, the waitstaff, even fucking Grillby himself. Your name clearly wasn’t apart of their vocabulary anymore.

Then came the human sous-chef that you'd made friends with, Eli.

He was a cool dude. Seriously. You became friends when Boss was a little too harsh when talking to you and you hid away in the produce closet. That's when Eli found you.

Crying in the corn. So he gently brought you out, telling you that Boss was like that with him. He sat you down at one of the tables after hours when Harold had finished cleaning up the restaurant section. Plus he brought you a cake slice, said that Boss is always uptight and that it wasn’t on you.

Eli had shared a story about the time he ‘undercooked’ a steak by two minutes, and Boss went absolutely ape-shit on him, insulting his cooking, going on to say he was too hectic and impatient.

You shared an empathetic laugh with him and shared the slice of cake. The two of you bonded over the mutual appreciation for dumb WeTubers, Nextflics shows, and rhythm games.

From then on blossomed a beautiful, competitive friendship. You guys added each other on one particular game and have been texting screenshots of your fails and victories to each other, and your competitive streak with him grew even more.

Eli would let you taste test food when Boss wasn’t looking at closing time and over the extra food, you would gossip too. Sharing your work woes. Whether it be Boss or customer related, it was always nice to have someone to talk to about that kind of stuff. You think Eli appreciates it too.

You left the kitchen, out on the floor to serve tables once again.

Eli was a good friend. But you don’t think the two of you are close enough to talk about your other issues outside of work. Sigh.

The whole mysterious money source you’ve acquired. You’ve still got so much going on. The whole mystery surrounding that situation is freaking you out. You’re  dumb enough to not take the money because you’re desperate as all hell, and you’re now working a barely above minimum wage job, but you’re not dumb enough to not be aware of the fact that these people are probably going to want something back in return. And that scared you. A lot.

They knew where you lived. They knew your bank account balance. They had an insane amount of money, and probably an insane amount of connections in order to get all of this information. Plus, you’re not even dealing with one person, you’re dealing with four people, maybe even monsters in total!

Sure, monsters might be made of compassion and kindness, but they’re sure as hell not that charitable to just dump ungodly amounts of money on you. Like that refillable card. You haven’t been using it on anything that wasn’t necessary. You’ve only been using that for groceries like every week and to get a new pair of work shoes that Boss practically forced you to buy. That thing still hasn’t run out. You’ve been buying actual food products and more fruit.

Plus that couch! That box has still been sitting in your apartment because you haven’t had the time to even open it. You don’t even know how to assemble that thing in the first place. And with work and trying to figure out who these people could be, you haven't even had the time to think about assembling that nice sofa.

Also, you’d recently acquired a stalker. Ever since that night, you’ve been absolutely paranoid about everything when walking home. Flashes of blue were always following every night. It probably has something to do with the money. It might be a tail on you to make sure you keep your mouth shut about it.  That dark chuckle from that night haunts your fucking dreams, man. You sleep with your blinds drawn. You can’t do it anymore.

You’ve acquired. A STALKER. A STALKER! Your nights have been spent on edge too. Who would be following you? What if they do something to you? You’re afraid to go to the police about this because well, they really haven’t done anything to you yet. You have no proof of Mr. Shadow Man, zip and zilch.

You’re afraid to tell Eli about it. Afraid to talk about it in general. They could be listening in at any time. You don't know what these people are capable of. They could stop sending you shit. They could hurt you. This was like a hard slap in the face, reminding you that not everything is all sunshine and rainbows and money filled parcels sent from mysterious sources. You could get really hurt. You could be targeted for all the wrong things.

You don’t know what you’re getting into. But apparently, some spoiled kid in the restaurant knew exactly what you were getting into because he tripped you causing you to fall on top of all the food you were just about to serve.

You heard snickering and shocked gasps coming from that table.

God, your fucking knees hurt. And you had sauce all over the front of your shirt and work pants. This was your only uniform, and this is what you get for disappearing inside of your head! A marinara and an aioli covered shirt.

You slowly stood up, being careful to not spill or get anything else all over yourself or the floor.

"Our food!" The patrons yell. You sigh and pick up the plates and food, before looking over at the offending table.

Well, there’s a mom, dad, and a son. The Mom had a typical ‘can I talk to your manager?’ haircut and she was clearly miffed and very displeased. , the Dad just looked like he really didn’t wanna be there. As for the kid, he pulled out his YPad, trying hard to hide his evil little shit smile from his Mom. They were the snobby type to make a fuss over everything. The rolls were too hot for them, their drinks didn’t have enough ice cubes in it, little Timmy didn’t get his soup on time. You’ve had to come back a couple of times to deal with their petty complaints. But they could afford eating here. And you needed the money.

And you royally fucked this up.

Oh god. You were probably going to have to bring Boss out here. And you really, really didn’t wanna do that. Let’s see if you can handle this by yourself.

“I am so terribly sorry, I can get you a replacement right away free of charge. Again, I’m so, so sorry. I can get you a dessert on the house along with your food to compensate for my terrible clumsiness.” You add with an apologetic, hopeful smile.

please don’t ask to speak with my manager, pleaaseeee don’t ask to speak with my manager.

“I knew you were a shit waitress from the start.” The mom starts. “You couldn’t even pay attention to where you going. That’s the least you can do to make up for your shit customer service. I mean really, you can barely serve as it is. I’m surprised they hired you.” She continues with a sickly sweet smile.

“I’ll definitely be speaking with your manager after this.”

Wow, okay. You get that you fell and you’ve been in your head for a good chunk of time that you’ve been on working, so you’re compensating by giving them the meal on the house. But just insulting you like that? You already get insulted enough as it is, but it’s fine.

Also, now you’re gonna get an earful from Boss! Great.

You give them a strained smile as you head back to the kitchen, telling Harold about the accident, to which he replied “Wosh u floor! Wosh u outfit?”

“No, it’s okay. I’ve gotta tell Boss about this and get a new food order in. Thank you though!”

You edge into the kitchen, catching the eye of Eli. Ignoring the stares of the other staff, you wave a hand to snatch his attention.

“Hey! Can you fire up the same order as before for me? The one for table fifteen? I’ll tell Boss about what happened before the customers get to him, okay? Thanks!”

You say, fidgeting in place.

Eli’s eyes widen before he sighs, taking in your ruined  uniform, before getting back to work.

"You're lucky you're one of my favorite people here, Y/N." Exasperated, he says “You’re not getting out of this easily, Runt! We’re talking over this over cake!” And with a small smile, you find yourself in the clear.

Bless his soul. Bless that man's soul.

"You're the best!"

You give him finger guns, and you're out of the kitchen.

Soon enough, you're carefully walking back to Table 15 with food in your hands, watching where you're going.

And when you make it there, you stiffen up.

There's Boss!!! Walking away from Table 15, looking a little more than displeased! And walking towards you!Fun!!!!!

You're stopped in your tracks when he grabs your shoulder when you're about to pass him. Boss is facing the opposite direction, and you can't see the expression on his face.

You're so dead.

"After You Serve This Table Runt, Come To The Staff Room. Immediately."

He lets you go and you're practically stuck to your spot.

This is it. You're gonna lose your job. Wow. After four weeks. Holy shit. This is really it. Boss thinks you're even more of a dumbass, and now the lady at Table 15 is smiling all smug-like, with a shit eating grin, just like her spoiled little brat of a son.

You've given her the satisfaction of seeing you get scolded.

A tense smile is slapped onto your face as you go to properly serve the table, again apologizing profusely. Ignoring the snide comments and sneers coming from the mother and her son, and just plain silence from the father.

You sigh as you turn away from the table, empty tray in hand, walking back to the staff room.

You're so utterly fucked.

Chapter Text

The head waitresses meet you before your ultimate demise, being oh-so helpful in calming you down.

"We uh, heard you got like, totally in trouble with the Boss!" Catty sneers.

"We also saw the disaster with that one customer! That lady and her family are like, totally notorious for this kind of thing!" She continues on in her high pitched tone.

"Totally! Like, that Mom really lost it with him, while you were busy chatting that one human guy up in the kitchen! Boss is like, so pissed!" Bratty follows with a giggle, covering her mouth to attempt to suppress her laugh.

Of course these two would find you at the worst moment possible. You're already angry and nervous enough as it is, especially after that evil little smirk that Mom gave you. She probably has a name like Karen or some shit. Fucking Karen.

Point is, you really don't wanna deal with the package deal that is Catty and Bratty. They're already bringing you closer and closer to that breaking point. You've procrastinated all of your tears and honestly, you might just get it over with if they keep on talking?

"And the uniform is reaalllly expensive! All of it is custom made and tailored to each employee. And you just like, ruined your only one!" Bratty says, and your face burns red.

Oh god, Boss is gonna give you shit for that too, isn't he?

"Seriously guys? You really didn't have to remind me that I fucked up so badly! I know, I know!" You sigh exasperatedly, throwing your hands up into the air.

Custom made uniforms?!?!? You really did fuck up! Woww!!!

The two of them are on both your left and your right, sniggering. Their paws and respectively clawed hands on your shoulders as you near the staff room door.

"Better hope Boss is easy on you!"

Then in unison, they say, "Like, Good luck Runt!" And they shove you into the door, giggling as they walk back to the kitchen to serve out more orders.

You stumble and manage to catch yourself before you makeout with the door, adding more to your already growing plate of fuck-ups.

"Ow! Asses.." You straighten your already ruined uniform and stare at the door, exhaling.

Inhale. Exhale.

Queue your funeral march.

This is it.

After four long weeks filled with solace, and slowly softening insults, you're going to get your ass handed to you just because Karen at Table 15 just had to go complain and throw hands with your manager, whom of which was just starting to become a little less of an asshole compared to four weeks ago.

But now, all your progress with him is going down the drain probably, along with your paycheck. You smile stiffly as your hand shakily wraps around the staff room door handle. You knock, and hear Boss' shrill "COME IN." Then nervously open the door at the signal, holding your breath.

Here we go.

When you enter, you're greeted with the sight of Boss, who is currently seated at the couch facing the door, his legs crossed and his scarred skull resting in his hand, and a phalange drumming softly on his clothed kneecap. The lighting in there isn’t really helping his case either, making him look twice as intimidating. The two lamps on the end tables beside the couch are on, illuminating Boss in soft, eerie red light. The unreadable expression on his face is making you uncomfortable.

What is he thinking? What's he gonna say? What's he gonna do?

Your hands immediately clam up as you stand in front of the door stiffly, unsure of what to do. And he just watches you, raising an eyebrow in question, and then sighing when you don't make any kind of sound or motion to do jack shit.

"DO YOU REALLY NEED TO BE ORDERED TO DO EVERYTHING? SIT." He says gesturing his free hand to the couch across from him. Boss clears his non-existent throat as he sits up, his long legs spreading, both his elbows resting on his knees. He rests his skull on his hand again as he stares intently at you, studying your body language.

You sincerely hope he can’t hear your heart beating out of your chest right now, but he’s a supernatural skeleton  with telekinetic magic, so honestly, he might be able to do anything.

You sit across from him, still as stiff and as uncomfortable as ever. God, his expression is still fucking unreadable as all hell. You're just… gonna try to keep your guard up and hope for the best.

(The best possible outcome being you don't lose your job. and Boss is nice to you, you have good cake with your coworker after and it's happily ever after, with butterflies and puppies and rainbows, yayyyy!!!)

There was an awkward, tense stretch of silence for a solid three minutes between the two of you. It felt like you could cut the tension in the room with a knife. It was just you, your shaking hands, and Boss' cold hard stare. You were looking everywhere but at him. You were about to speak when Boss himself interrupted you.

"MS. L/N. I'D LIKE YOU TO EXPLAIN HOW THE TABLE NUMBER 15 INCIDENT CAME TO BE." Oh wow, last name instead of your nickname? And isn’t he louder than before? He sure seems louder than before. Is that just him being double the loudy loud, or is that just your nervousness making everything seem more intense than it already is? It’s probably just you, but then again, Boss has a superiority complex so it could be both? It’s probably both. You're now visibly sweating.

"SPEAK HONESTLY MS. L/N."

Honestly, huh? Would he seriously believe that little brat tripped you? Would he believe that that lady insulted you to the point where you’ve put off your breakdown? How can you speak honestly with Boss when you’re afraid of him? When he handles your paycheck and your job and really really seems like he dislikes you?

You steel your nerves and your resolve. Be brave, Y/N! You have to get it over with. Easier out than in. He’ll probably take Karen’s story over yours, but he should still know your side regardless. Who knows, maybe somewhere in that ribcage of his, Boss still has a non-existent heart. (Soul? You don’t know if that’s the right word here.)   

Boss watches you as your face scrunches up in thought, and as you wring your hands. You’re very clearly sweating, like an almost-cute nervous wreck. He shouldn’t find this pet that his brother and his phony copies sent him to watch so adorable, but it, no,she is so adorable? And so entertaining to mess with! He just enjoys watching you squirm and struggle. He's just toughening you up, getting you ready for the Don's plan, really. He's not going to do anything that bad to you. Of course not.  Plus he promised his brother and the Don that he wouldn't fuck with you that much.

Boss is testing your integrity about the situation. Seeing whether or not you'll actually tell the truth about Table 15 or lie about it and dig yourself a possibly deeper hole. Of course he knows what happened. You think he doesn't see everything that goes on here? He wasn't Captain of the Royal Guard for nothing! He had to oversee everything back Underground! Grillby's isn't just one of the top restaurants on the surface, but it's also a front for more of their more unsavory deeds. It may make good proceeds but still, that's all it is. A front. Overseen by the Great and terrible Pap-, excuse him, Edge! He has the most excellent security system installed and constant Details sat throughout the restaurant, Details that work for the Hermanos Esqueletos Sombríos.

In summary, Boss saw and heard the whole catastrophe. He is very well aware that Table 15's son tripped you and heard the Mother berate you. Hell, he had that very same mother berate him about his poor hiring choices and his employees again and again...that Karen complains every single time, and yet she still ends up at Grillby's anyway. He finally just...angrily recommended her to a different restaurant. They didn't need money from a nuisance like her anymore. Good riddance.

Very tiring, honestly. The point is, he couldn't let you know that he knew until you came out with it yourself. What will this little human girl do under pressure, he wonders? He wants to watch you while you panic, just for a little bit.

And Boss is very much enjoying the show.

He didn't get to relish in your panic induced silence for much longer because you just word vomit everything out to your manager.

With scrunched eyes, furrowed brows, and fists bundled into your ruined, dirty slacks, you let everything out in a long and loud rant. You're finally done with everyone's shit!

"That brat at table 15 tripped me, alright?! I heard that kid snicker and laugh at me, sharing that same evil disgusting grin as his snobby mom! That dad did and said nothing! Nothing! Nada! I knew he saw and he just let it happen! He didn't even fucking care! Like the complete and utter asshole he is! Then that poor excuse of a mother, with her 'Can-I-Speak-To-Your-Manager' haircut, had the audacity to tell me I was a-"

Is it hot in here or is just you? You take the chance to breathe a deep and long breath, not noticing the proud, shit-eating smile spreading across Boss' face. He takes joy in the growing redness blooming across your face.  

"And I quote, 'A shit waitress with shitty customer service.' Well, Karen, I'm sorry I fell due to your bratty, shitty excuse of a child! I'm sorry I'm stuck in my head thinking about my own damn problems instead of focusing on how your son got seven ice cubes instead of eight in his orange soda because your child likes even numbers! And I have to deal with people like her all. the. time  but this? This takes the fucking cake, and to add to this, I get insulted on the daily at work, and I've got a lot going on at home!" With a frustrated flourish of your arm, you continue on.

"My knees fucking hurt, I ruined my one and only uniform which was apparently custom tailored?!? I'm so tired, so so fucking tired of getting berated every single day! And now I'm probably gonna get suspended or something because of that spoiled little fucking brat and!-"

A tissue is shoved into your hand before you could even finish talking. Your breathing is all erratic and heavy. Damn, why is your face wet?

Confusion and disbelief clearly written all over your face, you look up at Boss questioningly.  "What's...What's the tissue for?"

He laughs as hands you another one. Another genuine laugh, but it's almost that of a pity chuckle.

"YOU ARE CRYING, YOU DOLT. I ALREADY KNEW ABOUT ALL OF THIS AND FRANKLY IT'S ALREADY BEEN TAKEN CARE OF."

You reach up and rub at your eyes to check, and he was right! You were crying, and you haven't even noticed. Damnit, you didn't mean to cry in front of Boss. Surprisingly that skeleton actually helped you? And gave you a tissue when you cried? And he already knew, and he took care of things for you?

Then it clicks.

Excuse me??? HE KNEW?!?!? HE ALREADY FUCKING KNEW??? HE KNEW THIS ENTIRE TIME?!? Wait, taken care of?

With a sniffle, you squint through at the skeleton across from you, who's pulling out a third tissue and writing something onto it.

"What do you mean by taken care of, and how the hell did you know what happened? How come you scared the living shit out of me when you supposedly  already knew what happened?!"

Boss only chuckles again as he meets your incredulous stare and hands you the tissue he wrote on.

"DON'T QUESTION ME ABOUT MY METHODS, RUNT. ONLY WORRY ABOUT GETTING YOUR UNIFORM DRY CLEANED AT THIS LOCATION ONLY, OR ELSE YOU'LL HAVE TO PAY FOR IT YOURSELF. AND WORRY ABOUT YOUR DOCKED PAYCHECK THIS WEEK BECAUSE AGAIN, THE UNIFORM COMES OUT OF YOUR PAYCHECK."

Looking down at the tissue and ignoring the very, very familiar handwriting. You actually read the note.

1658 NUEVATARDE BLVD. EBOTT CITY

SKULLTURED CLOTHES & TEALERS

Boss runs his skeletal hand over his face with a sigh, before giving you some more directions.

"TELL THEM THAT EDGELORD, THE LEATHER CLAD CHEF SENT YOU, AND THAT YOU'VE GOT A GRILLBY'S UNIFORM." Boss has got a wine red, almost burgundy tint on his cheekbones, and he's refusing to meet your gaze.

Oh my god. Edgelord?!??!?! You already love the people who run this place if they're making you refer to Boss as Edgelord!!! Snickering quietly, you absentmindedly pocket the tissue and wipe at your eyes. You clear your throat with an awkward and nervous smile as you meet Boss' annoyed glare.

"Sorry." You mumbled, scratching at the back of your neck. "But that's it? That's all you're doing to me? Docking my paycheck over dry cleaning? Don't get me wrong, I'm so grateful! I'm just waiting for the other shoe to drop, Boss."

Scoffing, he retorts with "REALLY?"

no shit im deathly afraid that you're tricking me because you've insulted me to no end at work "Really."

He rises from his seat to open the door for you, motioning for you to get up as well. You get up as well, sweating under his gaze while you stand near the door. Can you leave yet?

With a pat of a gloved hand on your back and the clearing of his non-existent throat, Boss leads you out of the room.

"I'M NOT TOO SURPRISED OF COURSE, BUT IN ALL HONESTY RUNT, THAT IS ALL. JUST EXPECT A REFRESHER COURSE AND OVERTIME THIS WEEK TO MAKE SURE YOU DO NOT MAKE THIS KIND OF MISTAKE, AND CAUSE ME THE LOSS OF ANY MORE WELL PAYING CUSTOMERS. EVER AGAIN."

With an evil, shit-eating grin, he closes the door behind the both of you.

"NOW, GET BACK TO WORK!"

~XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO~

After the whole Table 15 fiasco with Boss and work in general, you finally get the chance to sit down with your buddy. You plop yourself in the seat across from Eli, resting your head on the edge of the table.

"Eliiiiiiiiiiii."

Groaning, you hold your hand out, smiling when the cool metal of a fork meets your hand. Hearing the sound of a plate sliding across the hardwood table, you lift your head and grin wider at your friend and the cake slice he brought you.

"Ruuunnnt." He answers back, laughing. Running his hands through his black hair, he grabs another fork with his free hand and starts picking at your shared cake slice. You raise your head, the exhaustion evident on your face, and scoff at the sight of Eli's amused stare.

Looking down at the cake, you see the white frosting, the strawberry on top, and the yellow sponge of it. There's no way it couldn't be.

Is that????

Sure as hell looks like-

"Yes, I made the cake  special. Tres Leches, your favorite." Eli rests his chin on his free hand, with a smile.

"Eli, After the day I had, you're such a fucking blessing." You raise your fork up, your eyes sparkling at the sight of it, when the cake is suddenly pulled out of your sight, and held it over your head.

Well that just cemented a frown into your face. Damnit Eli, what the hell?

"Just give me the damn cake, Eli." You know you're acting childish, but you've been waiting for this all day. You're tired, hungry, and you just want the taste of the light sweetness of your favorite cake. That so hard to ask for?

"You tell me what Boss did and what happened there, and then cake." He explains, excitement and anticipation is evident all over his face.

"Seriously?" You sigh.

"Seriously!" He puts the cake plate down, and you eagerly dig in as you start.

You reiterate the whole fiasco to Eli, starting by mocking Karen for calling you a shit waitress, calling and mocking Boss for his drama queen set up with the red lighting and how he talked to you. Then finally, embarrassedly mentioning how you finally had a good, old fashioned break down in front of Boss and cussing in front of him like that, and mentioning your punishments.

All the while Eli was laughing his ass off.

"Shut up. He's sending me to a specific cleaners for-" You motion to your ruined uniform, "-And he docked my pay for a while, 'cause apparently uniform cleaning comes out of the paycheck." You finish with a mumble. Eli on the other hand is fucking dying.  

"Doesn't sound too bad honestly, but god, your impression of the Boss is hilarious.  Anyway, it sounds like he really didn't do anything, minus the paycheck bit of course, but I'm surprised. Boss went way softer on you." Taking another bite, Eli points his fork at you, continuing to talk with his mouth full.

"I'm surprised too." You offhandedly mention, as you take a stab at your tres leches.

God, does Eli bake good.  

"Don't get me wrong, he does have a soul in there somewhere. He finally likes you, is all. Boss came back to apologize to me for the steak ordeal that I mentioned a while back. And he's helped out with dealing with situations like this too, when they get particularly bad."

Huh. So you really didn't have to be too scared. Then again, this information would've fucking helped before!

You hum, poking at the cake. "So you're saying that Boss and all our coworkers have had some kind of Karen fiasco situation?"

Eli nods with enthusiasm, his eyebrows raised "Mhm! Whether it be indirectly or directly, we've all had a run in with Karen or with other people like her. People like that send food back, complaining about the littlest of things. Stressed out a lot of our friends you know?"

Damn. Well, it's to be expected. You're in the food service business. Entitled people like that always exist. They'll always be here to make your job, and many others in jobs like yours, harder.

"So what'd Boss do to her anyway?" You've gotta know, okay.

"I did hear from that Catty and Bratty that Karen and her family, well mostly Karen, got into it with Boss. The Boss told her to leave and never come back because he's tired of her treating his waitstaff like shit. Wild, isn't it?"

Picking at your cake thoughtfully, you nod.

"Wild indeed. I never thought I'd be saying it, but Thank you Boss! But, Besides my whole ordeal, have any tea from the kitchen?"

"Oh do I? Let me tell you about Cheryl!-"

And so, Eli rants and rants about how Charr and Coal only listen to country music while they work, and how Cheryl, the KnightKnight barely talks to him when they're cooking, and in the kitchen communication is ESSENTIAL. The KingFroggit, Tim, always forgets to wipe down the cutting boards too, and Eli gets hella tiffed.

All that good stuff.

You're thankful for a friend like him.

~XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO~

After your cake session with Eli, you're out of Bar and Grillby's and making your nightly walk home again, holding your now dirtied and soiled uniform in a bag in front of you, and thinking about what you're doing tomorrow on your day off.  

Maybe you should start getting cabs home? It's just a short walk though, like fifteen minutes. That's money you are saving, when you're walking. Then again you could be saving yourself the paranoia. You're definitely getting a cab to the cleaners tomorrow though, that's deeper into the monster district, and you can't walk that far. Do you have anymore fruit at home? You hope you still have a peach left. You love peaches. You can afford them now, so you best have some peaches at home. Maybe you should get strawberries? The one on the cake was good.

Whilst walking down the street with your wandering mind, again, you pass by that insignia. Ignorant to its presence, too busy with your head in the clouds.

You should really go to the monster market tomorrow while you're out. You hardly ever go that far in that part of the city. It'd be fun! To try new stuff. Maybe the starfaits, the cinnabunnies, or even those famous monster candies you've heard so much about when you were younger? If they still sell those anymo-

k'duh.

What is that?

k'duh.

K'duh.

Oh no-

K'duh.

K'duh.

You hear it before you see it.

K'duh.

The heavy footsteps, getting ever so closer then stopping. Watching. Waiting.

K'duh.

Then the steps are followed by the flashes of blue. Everywhere you can see them. You turn when you see them in the corner of your eye, but then the color disappears instantly from your sight. The deep chuckle in the distance, seemingly mocking you. They're playing with you. They're here.

Oh god.

You almost drop your uniform and stop in the middle of the sidewalk. No. Nononono. Fuck no! Your heart drops into your stomach. Oh god.

Taking a look behind you to make sure, there they are. The looming dark figure, the blue flashes you saw earlier? Gone. It's just that figure, a good distance away. Watching you. Again.

You can't move. You can't speak. All the saliva in your mouth is gone, your mouth is so dry. You're glued to your spot, struggling to fill your lungs. Your palms have gone all clammy for the second time that day, and sweat began to form on your temples. You can't do this.

Not again.

Then the figure seems to grin, and takes one step closer. The sound of their leather dress shoes is all that fills your ears, even from that far away.

K'Duh.

That seemed to trigger your Fight or Flight senses.

WALK FASTER DUMBASS!

You finally pull yourself out of your panicked stupor and go into a soccer mom walk, making sure to make it as obvious as possible that you were NOT panicking.  Your mind is racing, filled with thoughts bouncing around in your head like a game of Pong on steroids.

You don't understand! Why now? Why you? Why when you walk home? Why? They never do anything to you but what if that day is today?What if they decide to fuck with you today? YOU REALLY SHOULD'VE GOTTEN A CAB!

You walk even faster now.

The blue flashes are back, you can see them in the corner of your eye now. The laughter? Louder.

Trying to distract yourself from your ever growing paranoia, you hum as you walk. Trying not to step on the lines and cracks on the sidewalk, enjoying the cool evening air on your skin, the cars passing by, the streetlamps. The easy breeze blowing by. Counting the amount of windows you see with lights on. Easy distractions. Simple things.

Anything, just so you don't think about the looming shadow approaching, then stopping and letting you walk away from it like some dumb game of cat and mouse.

As you pick up the pace, the figure catches up with you, matching your speed. Still stopping and starting when they get too close to you.  What the hell are they doing?

"i'm doin' nothing kiddo."

You almost fall as you stop, the voice throwing you out of your panic once more. The deep baritone of his voice throws you off guard.

They, no, He speaks. Again.

And you thought out loud. Like a dumbass. And, again, like a dumbass, you somehow find the courage to talk back.  

"Can you please, I don't know fuck off?"

ARE YOU FUCKING STUPID?!?!?!??!

Oh god, why would you do that??? Why would you say that?

"sorry kid, no can do. kinda my thing to do, watch you and all that." You can practically hear the smile in this guy's voice.

"You know, I'd like it very much if you didn't."

"eh, i don't care much for what'cha like right now. see, you just go home and we continue what we're doin' like we do almost every night."

"Can you still fuck off regardless?"

"hmm. no."

The footsteps come closer and stop right behind you. T...There's breathing down your neck. It's almost...lukewarm? If that's even possible. You swallow shakily, shaking in your boots, trying your best to keep silent. This is where you die.

" thank you for keeping quiet about this. frankly, i'd like you to keep it that way."

There's a hand on your back, again you tense up almost immediately on the contact.

"now, mouse, i'd like you to run on home." He pats you on the back and with a whisper, the flashes of blue come back. The chuckles coming from everywhere now. That's all that fills your ears.

And you.

Run.

Like.

Hell.

Sputtering and crying with every step you take, but by god it's the fastest you've ever ran in your life. It hurts to breathe, but you're so grateful you can.

What the fuck? What in the everloving fuck? Why is he? Who is he? Why can't you just live a normal life?  You don't even know what he looks like! All you have is his voice. What the fuck?

Finally back at your apartment complex, you take the elevator back up, ignoring the stairs in favor of sitting as you go up to your floor.

You violently spam the up button with a shaking hand.

"Please fucking get here already! Let me go home, let me go home!" It seems like a million hours before the elevator finally arrives at the lobby.

As soon as you get in, you fall to the floor. Panting and scratching at the back of your neck.

"Oh my god. Oh my god."

You're so, so scared. And yet you laugh. The hysteria setting in. You laugh all the way up to your floor. Ignoring the questioning stares of your neighbors, You laugh as you unlock the door to your apartment, kick off your shoes and walk inside.

You don't even bother turning on your lights. Throwing the bag containing your soiled  uniform onto the box with your couch, you walk into your bathroom.

Flipping on that light switch, you take the time to look at yourself in the mirror, running a hand over your face.

You're a complete wreck, to be honest.

Disheveled out of place hair and puffy, red, eyes. Dried, wind kissed lips and tear tracks on your red cheeks. Pulling and poking at your face, you give yourself an exhausted smile. A reminder.

That you're Alive. Beautifully Alive.

You're still here. You're okay.

You shower and put product into your hair,  wash your face, and change into pajamas in silence. Not even taking the time to put lotion on like you usually would.

Flopping backwards onto your futon and crawling under the covers, you stare out your window blankly. Trying to catch a glimpse of the mystery man that caused your shitty state of mind.

But the clutches of sleep beat you to jtfirst, your exhaustion finally getting to you.

Falling into nothingness, you rest.

~XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO~

The cafe was warm. A sanctuary from the snow outside. You felt so, so warm in there with him.

With S̸̨͚̰̺͇̾͒̃̎͂͒̀͗͆̂͜t̷̨͔̼̤͉̍̈́̄͆̚͝͝ͅr̴̨̻̰̐̅ë̷̝́͑͂̉̊̊̚͝t̸̺͕͚͉̜̦͍͈̃̐̓̽̅̌͝͝c̷̨̡̛̦̩͖̩̞̀̎͗̃͒ͅh̴̩͖͒̏̊͂.

Shared laughter is all you remember. Reaching for his hoodie sleeved skeletal hand with your own fleshy one, smiling happily at him.

"my chickadee. you always find some way to get me to espresso myself around ya." He emphasizes by taking a sip of his drink. What a dork.

Your laughter is cut short when the glass shatters around you.

Why can't you see him right? All you can see is his orange and white.  You barely feel your hand come up to your head. It's wet.

Why is it wet?

Looking down, you can almost make out the mystery substance.

Blood.

You're ...Bleeding? The ringing. It's so loud. You try to tell S̸̨͚̰̺͇̾͒̃̎͂͒̀͗͆̂͜t̷̨͔̼̤͉̍̈́̄͆̚͝͝ͅr̴̨̻̰̐̅ë̷̝́͑͂̉̊̊̚͝t̸̺͕͚͉̜̦͍͈̃̐̓̽̅̌͝͝c̷̨̡̛̦̩͖̩̞̀̎͗̃͒ͅh̴̩͖͒̏̊͂. to cover his ears, but you can't speak. Wait, he doesn't even have ears. Silly you!

You're falling. Falling. It's getting so dark and yet it's so bright. It stings. It feels like your head is getting drilled into. What the…? Where is he?

There he is! You're moving. Your head is on something hard yet soft. His lap! It's too bright.The ringing is so loud. It's so wet. It hurts. It hurts.

His hand is on your head. His mouth is moving. He's crying and he's laughing. What's he saying? Don't cry! Ow...It really hurts. It really, really hurts. Make it stop.

"hey chickadee? i've got'cha okay? please hold on for me! honey, please!"

You're trying but it hurts so much! He has to understand that it's so much! It hurts! He'll understand that you've gotta rest your eyes a little bit right? The ringing is too loud anyway. A nap won't hurt..It's okay you try to tell him. You're okay, it just..Hurts. Don't cry over me.

"honey! honey, no. please hold on! won'tcha hold on for me? please!"

Chapter Text

You shot upright in your futon the next morning, heaving. The pounding in your head feels worse than the usual hangover headache, and the fabric of your shirt is sticking to your back. Your heart was still racing from the whole experience. You rub your face, surprised to feel moisture underneath your eyes. Were you...crying?

Oh God...What the fuck?

It takes you a bit to calm yourself down. Grounding yourself, you count the five things you can see.

Your blanket, your futon, your table, your hands, and your wall.

Count the five things you can feel.

The sweat cooling on the back of your neck, the fabric of the blanket resting on your legs, the futon below you, your erratic breath, and the rogue tear running down your face.

You breathe easy again, having finally gotten your body to return back to what could be considered normal. It really treated this dream like it was real…It felt so real. Why the fuck did it feel so real?

What...the fuck? You...you thought you weren't supposed to be able to feel pain in dreams!?

You stare at the fabric behind you, your pillow, and under your armpits surprised at the amount of dampness left where you were laying. Pulling your curtains closed (because you’re very, very paranoid), you pull your shirt off, and, to no one’s surprise, it’s really wet.

“Ugh.” You look at yourself in disgust. “Gross.” You throw it across the room as you get up and make your way to your fridge, grabbing whatever beverage you have that has enough electrolytes to get your sodium levels back to normal. Then, you mull over whatever the hell that dream-nightmare buttfuck was.

What the fuck? What in the everloving fuck?!? You’re still clearly very much in shock.

You’ve never ever experienced something like this before. You’ve never ever met that skeleton before! That skeleton in orange...why the hell did he look like Papyrus and a softer version of Boss tied into one? The skeleton's voice. It didn't sound familiar at all. How could your head even come up with that?

The brain can't make up faces or voices it’s never seen or heard before, it definitely shouldn't feel pain during dreams, and yet, you did. The beginning of the dream was nice though, the date with the oddly attractive and laid-back Papyrus that spoke in puns. His voice was real easy on the ears, just like honey...

Getting shot in the head, on the other hand, fucking sucked. That was the most terrifying thing you've ever experienced in your life. Your head is still slightly throbbing with the phantom pain from it. Hell, it was a dream! How could it feel so raw, like you actually lived through getting shot?! You rub the spot where you were "shot" in thought, gently rubbing in soothing circles.

What even was that????? Why did you even-

Ugh. This was gross. Dreams are gross. You're gross. Literally, you feel and smell gross. You’re sweaty as all hell, your clothes reek, and your blanket is stained and ruined. No bueno. You gotta fix that. You've got places to be. Things to do, especially on your day off!

Showering is one of those things. Double checking that the window is closed, you strip yourself as you make your way to your bathroom (the privileges of living by your lonesome), you close the door and turn on the water. It takes forever to warm up, but only lasts for five minutes. It's both a blessing and a curse.

Hopping in, you mentally run through the day's errands. Taxi over to the monster district, get your uniform dry-cleaned, peruse the shops, buy some more food for your really small fridge, and possibly buy more clothes outside of your meager amount of real people clothes; one shitty old college hoodie, three decent outside shirts, and a ratty pair of converse sneakers.

You can see your socks in those damn shoes, but with all the stress of moving away from that situation , losing both your wallet and your job, finding your wallet, the sugar daddy letters, Grillby’s, and getting stalked, you haven’t had the time to shop for yourself at all. All that mattered was staying there, in this small, sad studio apartment of yours, and never going back. Staying afloat has always been and will always be the number one priority.

But now that you’re here, surprisingly living better than previously with a visa gift card with a mystery amount of money present on it, you can possibly afford to buy some new clothes and shoes that could last longer in the monster district?

That makes sense-

And wow, that water is cold! The freezing water yells at you to get out and following its orders, you’re out ASAP, turning it off. You wrap yourself in a towel and stand in front of the mirror.

“Less gross. Clean!” speaking to your reflection, smacking your face with a slight grin gracing your lips. You slather some product in your hair, scrunching, twirling and combing it out to make sure it distributes evenly. You dress in one of your only tank tops, your thick college hoodie, and the pair of jeans from yesterday-

"now, mouse, i'd like you to run on home."

The flashes of blue. That voice. The eerie luke-warmth of his breath. That laugh.

Yesterday...

You felt a shiver run down your spine at the thought and shove it down in the back of your head for a later date. That was...scary. Terrifying. You don't dare to ponder on it too long, it’ll just freak you out all over again, and you are NOT ready to confront that whole situation. You don’t have the time for it.

Let's not think about that, you repeat to yourself as your hands begin to shake regardless you attempt to distract yourself by packing your bag with your keys and wallet, and put on your shoes, grab the soiled uniform bag, and double-check the address Boss gave to you.

1658 NUEVATARDE BLVD. EBOTT CITY
SKULLTURED CLOTHES & TEALERS

As you make your way out of your apartment building, you order for your M-Uber, again using that mysterious visa card for the second time. While you wait out front you look up the dry-cleaning place partnered with Bar & Grillby’s, only to find out that it’s a tailor, dry cleaner, and clothing store all in one. From the pictures, it looks like a large place too. It’s monster run, employing both monsters and humans. The reviews are excellent. People really like the clothes as it turns out. A lot of the reviews mention the great customer service of the two owners Blue and Stretch, who are timely, entertaining and understanding, the two sound great.
Blue and Stretch—

…Stretch?

Why did that name sound familiar? Extremely familiar, for once. Where have you heard that name? And why does it hurt to even think about him?

Thinking about it too much makes your head start to throb a little, almost like the same sensation from this morning, but duller.

You shake your head and receive the notification that your ride has arrived. You hop in the car and greet your driver, opting to forget about that weird feeling of déjà vu and instead, listen to music on your way there.

Yet the thought still trickles its way back into your mind.

Stretch, huh?

And there it is again. That pain.

~XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO~

Stepping outside of the car and thanking your driver, you find yourself in the midst of the monster district. Various monsters of different sizes, shapes and colors pass you by, paying you no mind as you gawk at the building in front of you.

The pictures definitely didn’t do the store justice, because, wow.

The large building in front of you is painted both a muted orange and a horrendous, electric, almost neon blue. If that didn’t make it stand out anymore, the store sign is in large bold bubble letters and has a cute skull decal next to it in the same kind of style. It's a cute,yet odd little store.

Just…what kind of place did Boss send you to?

Boss doesn’t seem like the type to even walk into or tolerate this kind of establishment, and yet, here you are. With the direct orders to tell whoever “them” was, that Boss, accurately dubbed “Edgelord” had sent you and that you got a Grillby’s uniform.

Maybe the people inside are just as interesting as the outside? Who knows. Point is, you're here, and you have to go inside at some point, and you can't keep standing here and staring at the ridiculous storefront forever, or people will start getting suspicious, thinking you're crazy or something.

Well, you think,here goes nothing.

You push open the door and you're greeted with the sound of a bell, signaling your entrance into the store. You also find that the inside is just as colorful as the outside, but now the blues and oranges are subtler and easier on the eyes. Now you can picture Boss walking in here, probably criticizing the storefront on his way in. There's a familiar electro swing track playing in the background, and your head naturally sways to the beat. At first glance, you notice that the store is split in two sections.

The left, and larger half of the store is dedicated to clothing racks and shelves, with more registers along the back end of the store to take more customers. The clothes look very retro, like the hidden finds you'd see at a thrift store. Vintage streetwear almost. Looking around some more as you wander in, you see there’s jewelry racks around as well, along with little knickknacks and stickers, shirts, and more with the store's logo on it.

As you move towards the smaller half of the store, you find the dry-cleaning and alteration section. The fitting rooms are located in this area and it has one register towards the back, and with the typical dry cleaning rack behind it.

The dry cleaning counter is currently being manned by two skeletons. Manned? Is that right? Whatever, but they're probably behind the "Skulltured" in the store name. Haha. Skulltured. Skull-Cultured.
That's dumb stupid, you think with a slight grin. You study them as you make your way towards the counter.

Instead of being dressed in white and light brown suspenders like the other employees, the pair is dressed in different colored button ups paired with leather suspenders, signaling that they're probably the owners or managers. The shorter one with the bright, light blue eyelights has his baby blue shirt buttoned up all the way, his shirt pristine and almost free of wrinkles. He sends a smile and a friendly wave in your direction, before running off to the back at the sound of a phone call.

He's cute.

The other, lankier one has his deep orange shirt partially unbuttoned and his sleeves pushed up to his elbows and one suspender hanging off him. He sits asleep with his hands behind his head and his shoes up on the counter, with what seems to be a lollipop stick in his mouth. You could practically see the z's rolling off him in waves.

Huh. He looks both sleep deprived but comfortable all at once. You don't even know how skeletons get bags under their eyes, but somehow, he's got them. Poor dude. Looks as tired as you feel. He's really handsome though. Sleeping Beauty, huh? Kinda looks like Boss, but softer. All these weird skeleton resemblances. Maybe they're related? He has talked about a brother before.

You take in your surroundings one more time before you step up to the counter, noticing how the clothing section isn't too busy, and making a note to yourself to go clothes shopping after you deal with your uniform business.

Now standing in front of the counter, you're a couple feet away from Sleeping Beauty, but right in front of the cash register, and two different colored bells. One your regular silver, and one gold. There was no one else at the dry cleaner, except for the sleeping skeleton.

You look back over at the bells, then at him. He seems like he's in a deep sleep, but you don't know this guy. He could be a light sleeper for all you know! But he could also be a really heavy sleeper and he wouldn't hear a thing. If those eyebags say anything, you know that the sleeping monster near you needs it, and yet you need help. You really don't want to disturb him, but also you need somebody to take your uniform off of you.

Peaceful sleeping skeletons, who look completely passed out, would probably be heavy sleepers that wouldn't wake up at the sound of a bell, right?

Right, you reason with yourself.

...he looks so peaceful though…

Fuck it.

You hesitantly reach to ring the golden bell, your palm right over top of it when-

"Do. Not. Ring. The. Bell. Please."

You find your hand on top of a skeletal one. You find yourself making eye contact with Mr. Blue Eyelights. His seemingly innocent perma-grin is slightly strained, and he uses his other finger to point to Sleeping Beauty and then brings it back up to his mouth.

"This Bell Here, Would Wake Him. I Apologize For Taking So Long. How Can I Help You, Miss?"

Your eyes widen just a little, before you flush just a little and look down at your hand on top of the skeleton’s, studying the rings on his hands. Three simple silver bands of various shades of silver on an index finger and a silver ring set with a blue topaz on his middle.

“Ma’am?”

Your head snaps up immediately and your face grows redder as you realize that you’ve been studying this man’s HAND, with yours STILL ON TOP OF IT.

“Oh my god-- I am so so sorry!” you sputter out.
And your apology is met with one of the strangest laughs you’ve heard, paired with one of the brightest smiles you’ve seen.

“MWEH HEH HEH!” The slightly shorter skeleton’s eyes widen, before he brings down his own volume, still with that adorable smile on his face. “It Is Alright Miss, How Can I, the Magnificent Blue, Help You?” He looks you up and down, like he’s searching for something, and then his eye lights flicker a bit and that grin widens a little more, like he found what he was looking for.

Did the skeleton just check you out? I mean, part of you doesn’t mind, he’s kind of cute, but also, why? You internally shake your head, and move past your own dumb question. Don’t worry about that too much, just remember what you came here for, and what Boss told you to say.

“Nice to meet you, Blue. I’m an employee from Bar and Grillby’s, y’know, a ways from here? Any whosies, and I quote, ‘EDGELORD, THE LEATHER CLAD CHEF’ sent me and my uniform is currently covered marinara and aioli, and he didn’t want me to risk ruining my only uniform, so. I’m here for dry cleaning. And possibly another uniform?” You add with a sheepish smile, placing the bag with your soiled clothes on the counter, in front of Blue.

The skeleton pulls out your uniform, and frowns at the sight of your ruined white blouse and stained black slacks. “Now This Won’t Do Miss, This Is Most Definitely A Job For The Magnificent Blue! I Will Get This Cleaned Up Right Quick For You!” He lowers the blouse and makes eye contact with you, literal stars in his eyes. Again, how the hell is this skeleton monster so cute?

You watch with wonder as the short monster runs to the back with a hanger and runs back up to the register with a pen and he pulls out a ticket.

“Your Name, Miss?, he motions to the ticket.

“Oh! Y/N L/N.”

“Phone Number?”

“XXX-XXX-XXXXX.”

He sticks the ticket onto the hanger and scurries back off to put your clothes on a rack, where more dirty clothes wait to be dry cleaned. He brushes his hands off on his slacks, returning back to the counter with a smile.

“Alright Miss Y/N, Is There Anything Else The Magnificent Blue Can Help You With?”

“Nope! Thanks for the help, I think I’ll just go look at the clothes and come back if I need anything!”
You head off towards the clothing section, wandering between the isles of shirts, jackets, and dresses and perusing the shelves of pants and jewelry. You pick up a couple of short sleeved button ups and one oversized t-shirt with the shop’s logo, annnd a nice pair of skeleton earrings because you really couldn’t resist!! Also, some new socks, a new pair of converse, and nicer pairs of pants and jeans. You think you practically completed your wardrobe, except for one thing-

There!

In the corner of your eye, you spot it. You backtrack to the shelves lined with jackets, and pick up one that caught your attention. A cute, black, normal-looking vintage corduroy jacket. It has huge friggin’ pockets! As you lift it up to inspect further, the jacket unfolds, and to your surprise, its longer than you!

Wayyy too long for you. You didn’t want a coat, just a cute ol’ jacket. Res in Peace, your dreams of having a slightly oversized jacket...

WIth a small frown, you fold the coat up, and notice a handwritten tag attached to it.

In all uppercase comic-sans font, it reads
BRING TO THE TAILOR FOR ANY SIZE ADJUSTMENTS FOR AN EXTRA TWO-FIFTY!
And it has a little stamp of the same skull decal on the logo. Shrugging, you figure its worth it, especially when alterations are that cheap. That’s a bargain!

You make your way back to the dry cleaning section, to which Blue greets you with another one of those smiles.

“Miss Y/N! Back So Soon?” He asks, looking at the amount of clothes in your arms.

“Yeah! I was gonna ask about altering this jacket? And possibly ordering another uniform for work?” You fumble around with the amount of clothes in your arms before being able to put the jacket in question down, pointing at the tag.

Blue’s eyes light up in recognition, and he pulls the jacket towards himself, motioning his head toward the still-sleeping skeleton not too far from him.

“Oh. The Alterations Aren’t Done By Me Sadly, But By My Lazy Brother. Though He May Be Lazy, He’s The One With the Defter Hands. I’ll Ring You Up While You Talk To Him. Hold On One Moment Please!”

Blue wanders over to the skeleton, takes a deep breath and yells.

“STRETCH!”
Stretch(??????)’s face scrunches up before he slowly blinks and sits up.

“jeez bro, you were so loud that you went and woke the dead. ‘m up, ‘m up. nyeh heh heh.” He replies with a tired laugh, looking over at his brother.

“YOU CAN’T GO SLEEPING ON THE JOB LIKE THAT, YOU NUMBSKULL! THERE’S A CERTAIN CUSTOMER THAT NEEDS HELP!” Blue exclaims, pointing over to you, in which you awkwardly smile and wave at the sudden attention.

Stretch’s eyesockets meet yours, and the lollipop stick in his mouth falls out as his jaw drops. His eyes widen in slight shock, as he speaks.

“honey?”

Why was his voice so easy on your ears?

Chapter Text

"honey?"

The orange clad skeleton speaks again, sitting up straight in his seat, attempting to collect himself. "you look so…"

Stretch couldn’t believe his own eye sockets for a second, because there you were, looking as beautiful as the day he lost you. Cheesy as hell, he knows, but damn- it’s so jarring to see someone who looks just like her right in front of him. He’s seen pictures of you, but it doesn’t compare to seeing you in the flesh. It hits different, you know? He let his eyelights wander over your figure as he cracked his knuckles, taking in your worn-out hoodie and jeans. Your hair is brown and curlier this time around. You were just a little bit cuter than his version, he thinks. It’s something about your nose and your lips. He noticed you blush under his gaze. He didn’t care that he was gawking, he’ll stare as long as he needs. Your eyes...stars, those eyes.

i got lost in those eyes of yours, chickadee. He thinks to himself, watching you get redder, ignoring the sharp look his brother gives him. He knows he's staring too long, but he can't help it.

He hasn’t seen you in years. Hasn’t felt this, no you in years.

His soul still recognized yours, he could recognize that kind of frequency from anywhere, and stars did he miss it. Stars, he missed you. His soul ached to be with yours like they were just a timeline, a universe ago. He feels weird for even wondering this, but do you still smell the same? Did the same humor transfer over timelines? He has to know.

“punderful. absolutely punderful. ” It wasn’t his best, but if you were anything like her, you’d fall for it.

hook,

Your face lit up even more, as you placed your other items onto the counter, your eyes widening as the compliment registered.

line,

Stretch’s smirk grew as you flustered and touched your face as it grew warmer, your mouth quirking up into a smile.

and sinker!

“Pfft...Haha!”

You burst out laughing, an adorable shocked laugh. Laughing harder than you were supposed to, clearly shocked at yourself because you were laughing so hard. Why are you laughing so hard? Is it because the oddly attractive skeleton complimented you in the best-yet-worst-possible way? Is it because you’re just that freaking easy to fluster? You were too busy trying to calm down to notice the disapproving look Blue gave his brother to which he got a shrug and a slight orange tint in return.

“Hahaha! Oh my god, wow. I’m so sorry, I don’t even know what got into me, but that killed me.” You return, with a few stray giggles tumbling from your lips. Damn, you haven’t laughed that hard in a long time. He’s got a nice voice.

“good humor is what’s in you, honey.” He drawls, standing and dusting off his slacks before offering his skeletal hand in greeting. “stretch’s the name, tailorin’s my game. alterations, customs, hemmings, you name it. i'm your man, or should i say skeleton?” He finishes with a crooked grin and you take his hand, shaking it with a giggle.

Staring at his hand some more, you notice he has a similar set of rings to his brother. Same set of rings on his index but instead of silver, his are various shades of gold. The ring on his middle is a black ring with a gold inlay.

These skeleton brothers have good taste. Course they'd have good taste, dumbass, they own a clothing shop.

Stretch notices your staring and gives out an amused chuckle as he releases your hand, and you feel your face grow warm again.

"Y/N. Thank you Stretch. But, I don't exactly feel punderful." You emphasize by tugging at your sweater with a small smile and a shrug, "That's why I'm here."

Stretch chuckles and shakes his head, making eye contact with you, staring all over again. "glad you gave us the opportunity to help ya." And the two of you just fall into this comfortable silence. Just you and him, staring at each other over the counter. Why is it so easy to just, be with him like this? You still feel all flustered, but you just felt at ease here. Some part of you felt right? In your chest, it was a warm yet bittersweet feeling. You've never felt this before with anyone, ever! The air around him was so familiar, yet you barely even knew hi-

"AHEM."

You snap out of your weird daze at the sound of Blue clearing his throat, and closing the cash register, handing you your receipt, and your bagged clothes while you’re coming out of your weird daze. Seems like the same thing happened to Stretch, as he blinks real slow, and gives you a shy grin. You give him a sheepish smile of your own as the both of you turn towards Blue.

That has literally never happened with anyone? What the hell just happened? You think to yourself.

"BROTHER, YOU'RE HERE TO HELP MISS Y/N WITH HER CLOTHING ISSUES, NOT HAVE A STARING CONTEST WITH HER." He states, looking at his brother, before turning towards you, his perma-grin looking slightly strained. “I AM VERY SORRY ABOUT MY BROTHER’S ODD BEHAVIOR, MISS Y/N.” Blue says as he motions his skull towards Stretch. Stretch shrugs nonchalantly, before slinging out an even cheesier compliment than earlier.

“couldn’t help it bro, i got lost.”

Blue sputters, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “LOST WHERE?”

Stretch only shrugs again, his small grin growing into a knowing smirk as he grabs the corduroy jacket and your hand, pulling both you and the jacket off to the side of the counter, ignoring your own confused stare.

He places his skeletal hand onto your shoulder and leads you behind the register, to a room beside the dry cleaning rack and opens the door. Stretch motions for you to go inside and as you do, Stretch turns his head and faces his brother.

“lost in miss y/n's eyes.” And at the exact time your face grows in an unwarranted blush all over again, Blue explodes into a rage, his fists clenched and his feet stomping.

”STRETCH! DO YOU KNOW HOW UNPROFESSIONAL AND UNNECCESS-”

And before you could hear the rest of Blue’s sentence, the door is closed shut, muffling all outside sound. And once again, you’re standing in silence with Stretch again. Stretch pulls out another lollipop from his back pocket and leans against the door before he breaks the silence by laughing to himself.

“nyeh, it never gets old. makin’ my bro all riled up like that. made it especially sweet seein’ a pretty girl get all flustered at the same time.” Stretch drawls, throwing you a cheesy wink. Which all but makes your face look like a damn tomato.

What is with you today? You’re never this easy to fluster. What in the hell? But also, does Stretch do this to everybody?

“Do you flirt with every girl you give alterations to, Mr. Sleeping Beauty?”

“sleepin’ beauty? you compare me to a beautiful princess and you say i’m flirting with you? wow. but for your information, no, i do not. only with girls with those eyes of yours.” He says, nudging you with his shoulder as you sputter. “where’d you get sleepin’ beauty from huh?”

“Handsome monster is napping at a store counter and that’s the first thing that came to my head. Do you blame me, Stretch?” You ask, giving him a shoulder nudge of your own, your voice lilting in a slightly coy tone.

“y’know what honey? i don’t blame ya one bit.” Stretch agreed, shrugging as he approached a dresser to the right of the room against the wall. He opens and closes a couple of drawers, making plenty of noise as he pulls out various things like pins, chalk, a roll of measuring tape and plenty more.

“go ahead and make yourself familiar around here, miss y/n. it’s gonna take me a minute to gather everything.” He continues, waving you off.

You continue to stare at the moderately sized tailor’s room you’re standing in. It smells clean, like the whole room was fresh out of the laundry. Stretch has a desk and chair in the left side of the room, with a sewing machine and other supplies in tow, some baskets of fabric littered on the shelf below. On the left side of the desk were tailor models of many different shapes and sizes. He’s got a mirror tucked in the corner with tall blue flowers peeking out from behind it. Against the wall furthest from the door sat a plush looking couch close to its center. On the same side where Stretch is at is another rack of clothes with some works in progress and finished projects hanging there.

Each of the walls held different clothing concepts and designs, each of them signed by Blue or Stretch. They all seem to be for different monster body types and other various things. They’re honestly all impressive. These brothers have a real talent for fashion. Especially for skeletons who have no bodies.

You snicker out loud at your own horrible joke, and Stretch looks over at you, confusion written all over his face which only makes you laugh harder. He shakes his head and sticks the freshly unwrapped lollipop in his mouth and rolls up his sleeves before he opens up a different drawer. You hear him curse under his breath.

“Everything okay over there, Stretch?” You ask, trying to get a better view of what he was doing, watching him shift around the dresser.

“jus’ peachy, honey. can’t find my favorite pen though.” You shrug and take that as an opportunity to sit on the couch towards the back of the room. While he busies himself looking for his pen, he points over to a table beside the door. “go ahead an’ put your stuff down here honey, and take that sweater off, will ya?”

You just sat down, dang. But why do you have to take your hoodie off?

“y’need to take the sweater off cause i need the closest measurements for your new uniform, right? an’ to see how fitted you want your jacket. no need for all the extra fabric, y’know?” Stretch finishes, standing up straight with all his supplies and favorite pen in hand and he closes the drawer.

“So I did say that out loud, huh?” You realize, cringing a little as you approach the table mentioned earlier, putting both your bags down and awkwardly taking off your hoodie. As soon as you pull it off your head, you barely remember you’re wearing a tank top. Oops.

You give Stretch an embarrassed glance, and he just approaches you with a non judgemental stare and respectful eyelights. He places a gentle hand back on your shoulder and leads you in front of the mirror.

“you sure did, y/n. but i don’t mind too much, shows you’ve really got a talking head, nyeh.”

“Did you just?-” You ask with a growing grin. Dude seems to be full of jokes.

“i did.” Stretch adds with a cheeky smile as he holds up the corduroy jacket. “arms up, please.” And you bring your arms up as he puts the ridiculously long jacket on you, bringing it around to your front, and tugging it so it sat nicely on your frame. You let your arms rest as Stretch kneels between you and the mirror,

“alright miss y/n, how d’ya want this jacket? a lil oversized? fitted? a taper to be fitted at the waist?” He cocks his head in question, pulling out the measuring tape from his back pocket.

A taper to a fitted waist would be cute. You can imagine that. “Yeah, the taper would be fine.”

“so what i’m gonna do is measure ya out, then pin the fabric down. no movin’ too much, okay? don’t want you to become a voodoo doll.” The two of you laugh as he brings the tape around your waist, his hands lightly grazing your sides as he makes his way to your back. He stands up and walks behind you, still holding the tape in place. You shiver slightly as he passes the tape around your figure, a light jolt running up your back.

Woah. What? You shake your head, figuring that the feeling was just nothing, and keep still as Stretch works.

As you stare into the mirror, you see Stretch hold up his hand and watch as his left eye lets out a small orange flare, and you watch as a clipboard zooms into his hand. “forgot about writing down the measurements. oops.” You feel Stretch fiddle with the fabric with his free hand, and watch as he places a pin in his mouth. He pins the fabric down to the point where it’s fitted and it doesn’t need the measuring tape to keep its shape.

Now that his hands are free, Stretch grabs a pen from his chest pocket and scribbles down the measurement on the clipboard, and lets go of the tape. He brings it around to the front of you as he stands between you and the mirror once again. The tape slips off your waist and you watch as he rolls it back up and pockets it once again. You move to relax before Stretch stops you. “sorry honey, i forgot to measure one more thing.” With a sigh, Stretch unpockets the tape once again, and measures out the whole of the jacket on you, then where it ends on your hipbones. He marks the jacket with the fabric chalk, then he notes the measurements. Instead this time, he drapes it over his shoulders.

“alright, last question for the jacket. d’ya want the sleeves that big or fitted to your wrists? or would you prefer a velcro adjustment for them?” He asks, lifting his chin to motion at your arms.

“The velcro adjustments. Sometimes I like the big sleeves.” You decide, shrugging carefully as to not move the pins out of place. Stretch nods and hums out in acknowledgment, writing a note down about the sleeves.

“i feel that. big sleeves are the best. when i was younger, back underground with my bro, we used t’get into our dad’s closet and steal his clothes. especially this one turtle neck of his. i’d put it on and smack blue with the huge sleeves and it entertained the crap outta him. always’d be screaming and laughin’. was both the cutest and most hilarious thing i’ve ever seen.” He ends with a soft, nostalgic look on his face followed by a soft chuckle.

You laugh at the mental image in your head. You picture a small Stretch and an even smaller Blue getting playfully smacked with an oversized sleeve.

“That’s sweet.”

You say, and Stretch's cheek turn orange in response.

"guess so."

“now we can take this off, and your arms can relax.” Stretch slides the jacket off of you, and again, his fingers lightly brush you once again, the same shudder from earlier returning in the same intensity. You just barely repress it. You don’t notice Stretch leave, you’re too busy thinking about how your body is just deciding to react like this man is someone you haven’t seen in years.

Literally. What is going on with you today? It all started with that odd dream.Then here you are, with the skeleton with a voice like honey. He does kind of look like a softer version of Edge combined with Papyrus, now that you’re really thinking about it. But, he just couldn’t be the monster from your dream. It just doesn’t work like that, right?

Right?

As Stretch brings your jacket to the rack with all his other unfinished projects, he finally lets his hands shake. Touching you like that, even just for those quick seconds was enough to send him into this kind of state. He barely touched you! Was he really that touch starved? He hasn’t been able to feel you in over a timeline. Stretch just missed you that much, apparently.

Well, whatever, he thinks. He just needs to get this done, and he can go home with his brother and talk to the others about this. He grabs some scrap fabric that he uses to measure out the Grillby’s uniforms and sighs, tucking it under his arm. Running his free hand over his skull, Stretch gets to thinking. He still can’t believe that Sans chose Edge of all people to watch and protect you throughout the day. And Sans gets to watch you during the night. He gets it. He really does, but he just wants that kind of time with you, at least during the day. It's completely understandable as to why Sans gets first dibs to watch you at night, he is the strongest, and he’s got the most control over his magic. But during the day time? It should’ve been him. Edge doesn’t even know you like he does. Then again, that is probably the reason why Sans passed you off to Edge. No complications. No memories like him.

Stretch shakes his head and steels himself, forcing his body to stop shaking. He needs his steady hands. Holding the uniform templates, Stretch walks back to you, a smile growing on his face as he notices that you are completely zoned out. Which means this is the perfect opportunity to scare you.

His grin widens as he approaches you, his footsteps feather light. He leans down next to you with his skull right next to your ear and he lightly grasps your shoulder. And he gives you a shake.

“boo.”

“Ohmygod!-” You screech, flinching harshly. Your hand inadvertently makes contact with Stretch’s cheekbone, giving the both of you a world of pain.

“ow!” He says, holding his cheek with his free hand. Damn, he did not expect that when he startled you. But hey, that means you have good reflexes! That's important.

“Shit! Ouch!” You curse, holding your now throbbing hand. “Stretch, what the hell? Who does that to a customer?”

He tilts his head, looking at you. Shrugging with slightly shameful look on his face, he replies. “you’re right, that was stupid on my part. sorry ‘bout that honey. just saw the opportunity and decided to take it and i paid for it.” He motions to his face. Stretch pulls out the fabric from under his arm. The white fabric was just an oversized button down. “i can reference your slacks from your other uniform, the shirt is a little more difficult, so here we are. arms up again?”

Okay, confession time. Stretch doesn’t need to measure out the shirt again, he has your uniform measurements already written down. He just wants an excuse to touch you again. Just oooonnnneeeee more time. He gets to be a little selfish, it’ll be the last time he’ll be alone with you like this for who knows how long. Until Sans wants you at the house, this is the only chance he’ll get. No he’s not creepy. He isn’t, he swears.

You, completely oblivious to Stretch’s inner thoughts, raise your arms again and let him dress you all over again. He puts your arms through the sleeves and buttons up your front, pulling the fabric to make sure that it’s sitting properly on your frame.

Stretch begins measuring you once again, holding the tape up against your arms, wrapping it around your wrists, stopping to jot down his measurements. “arms down, miss y/n.”

You let yourself relax and roll your shoulders as he walks behind you, and holds the tape up against your back. His hand presses on the small of your back for a quick second, and you immediately fix your posture with a slightly irritated sigh and you notice Stretch making a face in the mirror. “Sorry. That just reminded me of Boss. He’s always on me about posture.”

Stretch chuckles in response. “i’m sorry i reminded you honey. i know he’s got a real stick up his coccyx. he’s all into appearances over there. but i just need your back straight for accuracy.” He holds up the tape again, pulls out the clipboard and scribbles the numbers down.

You watch Stretch’s focused expression as he does his work. His face wrinkles a little with his scrunched browbones. Which surprises you a little. He looks like a skeleton, but he sure as hell doesn’t work like one.

“mm, don’t mind me right now honey, i need to measure your hips for this one.” You shrug as he kneels and holds the tape up to your rearend, and you just stand still. He quickly jots this one down, and stands back up almost immediately. You pretend you don’t notice the slight orange tint on his face as he walks in front of you. Stretch takes your waist measurement again, his hands grazing your sides again as he brings the tape around your body and back to the front.

You repress another shiver and smile hearing Stretch’s voice ring out, “done! you can go ahead and grab your stuff.” He motions over to the door, writing down the last of the measurements.

“That didn’t take as long as I thought it would.” You say, shrugging the shirt off and handing it to Stretch, the smile still on your face. “oh shirt! i was just about to let you walk out with that, huh?” Stretch replies, tucking his clipboard under his arm as he takes the shirt from you, letting his fingers touch yours for that quick exchange.

“Now what am I gonna do with an oversized shirt like that?”

Stretch only laughs in response. The two of you walk to the door and you put on your hoodie and grab your bags. You stick your hands in your sweater pockets as Stretch opens the door for you, letting you walk out first, leading you out with a polite wink. Your chest flutters again, just for that quick second. Your face tints all over again. But that was no matter, you were out fo the tailor's room..

And your ears are once again met with that subtle electro swing music, and-

“MISS Y/N! I HOPE MY BROTHER DIDN’T BOTHER YOU TOO MUCH. EVERYTHING WENT ALRIGHT, I HOPE?” Blue! He playfully pokes Stretch as he takes his place next to him.

“Yup! Plenty fine!” You add, rocking back and forth on your feet.

“she was a plenty fine customer. when will we see her around again bro?” Stretch nudges his brother, only to have Blue nudge him back. The brothers keep on poking each other, and you have to keep yourself from laughing when Blue smacks his brother’s hand to get him to stop. Blue speaks once again with a strained grin. “YOU’LL GET A CALL BY MONDAY! YOUR UNIFORMS AND YOUR JACKET WILL BE DONE BY THEN!”

Monday. You think you have a day off on monday, but you’re not quite sure. “Alrighty! Thank you so much. It was nice meeting you, Blue and Stretch!”

“IT WAS NICE MEETING YOU TOO, MISS Y/N!”

“see ya soon, honey.” Stretch adds, again with another stupid wink. “bring a map next time, will you?”

“Why?”

He laughs and shakes his head, Blue gives a sharp look to his brother before waving you off with a smile.

The three of you say your goodbyes, and you leave the building, waiting for your M-Uber, feeling content and happy. They were nice, and extremely entertaining. You didn’t think Boss would send you somewhere like this, and you’re so glad you did. You think you made some new friends.

~XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO~

“YOU KNOW SHE DOESN’T REMEMBER, RIGHT?”

“her mind may not, but her soul definitely does.”

“PAPY. I SAW THE WAY YOU LOOKED AT HER. PLEASE. RESTRAIN YOURSELF.”

“i can’t help it. she’s right there bro. you don’t understand.”

“BUT YOU KNOW THAT’S NOT HER. SHE DOESN’T EVEN KNOW YOU LIKE YOU KNOW HER.”

“how would you feel if the practical carbon copy of the soulmate you lost was standing right in front of you, your soul abuzz with excitement and disbelief? and you have the chance to feel her, make her laugh, make her smile, make her soul sing just a little? wouldn’t you take that chance, blue?”

“PAPY....THE DON ISN’T GONNA LIKE THIS. PLEASE, BE CAREFUL.”

“i know that sans! i know.”

“I’M SORRY.”

“no, i’m sorry. ready to go home?”

“PLEASE.”

Chapter Text

alrighty, stretch. 'porting isn't that hard. you could do it before, you can do it again. Stretch squeezes his brother's hand, his body tense and rigid in focus.

He scrunches his eyes closed, holding out his free hand. He tries his best to picture the front door of the manor, but it isn't clear or solid enough for him to grab hold of it.

Stretch tries anyway, pushing himself to grab the door regardless of his soul sputtering in protest. He's pushing it. He begins to shudder, his forehead breaking out into an orange-tinted sweat. Blue puts a steady hand on his back, worry written all over the shorter skeleton's face.

"PAPY, DON'T PUSH YOURSELF! WE CAN ALWAYS WALK BACK TO THE HOUSE-"

"i'm fine, blue. i can do it!" Stretch's eyebrows furrow in concentration, his eyes clenched, as he tries again.

Trying to 'port in a new universe now, especially after being forcefully ripped out of the machine a few years ago, is like trying to start up an old car. None of them, except for the originals, have complete control of their magic anymore. That's what comes with being torn out of your home universe.

And now here Stretch is, holding his older brother's hand, looking like a constipated fucking idiot in the backroom of their store as he tries to teleport back to the manor.

He tries picturing the front of the manor again, and it's finally clear enough for him to grasp.

almost...got it! Stretch inhales and wraps his hand around the doorknob. His skull breaks out into a strained grin as he pulls Blue and himself through the void. there we go.

When he opens his eyes again, he's on the front porch with his brother, sweating. His breathing ragged as his body calms down. He leans on the wall next to the door, trying to catch his breath. it shouldn't be this hard..was never hard before we got here.

Stretch feels Blue hand him a handkerchief, and he takes it gratefully, wiping his forehead.

"Papy, It Doesn't Look Like It's Getting Easier For You To Make Your Shortcuts. We've Been Here for How Long?"

"five years." The monsters of this timeline came out of the underground seven years ago, but it's been five years since he, his brother, and the others were pulled out of a malfunctioning machine completely by accident. They only keep up with the seven years to stay low.

And their magic hasn't been the same. The originals may have the best control over theirs, but it isn't at its full potential anymore. And he, Red, and Sans have no idea how to fix it. Or supposedly, Sans has no idea anyway.

It’s been shitty without their magic at its full strength anymore. It’s hard to handle, and it really doesn’t help when you’re running a damn mafia and you need that kind of power to make a show. They can’t ‘port as fast as they used to, it’s like they’ve all slowed down, downgraded. they can still summon bones, still use gravity magic. It's way more difficult, everything tires them out easier. It's especially harder to grasp that connection with the void, something went wrong again. Something always goes wrong. They've resorted to magic-enhanced guns.

He hates guns. Sans hates guns. Red hates guns. All of them hate guns.

Yet, that's their best bet. Best show of power, the best method of intimidation. Humans get it. Monsters get it. They're all armed with magic-enhanced bullets and other weapons that connect with their souls. Took a while to get it to work, had to send prototypes to Alphys to get it double-checked by an outside source, but now they've got it down pat. He’s got his dual pistols on him constantly now. Can’t go anywhere without them.

the weapons are cool sure, but i miss feelin' whole again. i miss home. I miss her

"i know. we all figured our magic would've been well adjusted by now, but for whatever fucking reason-"

"PAPY!" Blue scolds.

"sorry. for whatever freakin' reason, it hasn't. has yours gotten any better?" He asks Blue, unlocking the door and stepping inside.

His brother follows him in, rubbing his hands together nervously. "NOT QUITE, STRETCH. BUT I’M GETTING A BETTER HANDLE OVER HOW IT IS NOW.”

The two of them take their shoes off at the door, their leather shoes sitting next to one pair of leather boots and leather flats. Blue makes his way upstairs, leaving Stretch alone in the entryway. Stretch sighs as he breathes in the air of the manor, making his way to the table in the center of the entryway, emptying his pockets of the shop keys. It smells slightly of cigarette smoke, and all the lights are dimmed and the curtains in the foyer are drawn. He isn’t surprised, Red and Edge like it dark.

the curtains are drawn, they really don’t need the damn lights to be dimmed, and we have blackout curtains. no one can see us from here. damn drama queens. Stretch sighs as he walks over to the wall by the stairs and brightens the lights, and gives a chuckle at the hiss he hears from down the hall, followed by a loud thud and a muttered curse. Sounds like Red woke up from a nap.

He hears the quiet padding of socked feet approach and he grins at the sight of Red. “how’d the nap go red?” Stretch smirks, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"shaddup ashtray, your priorities shouldn't lay with my precious nappin' time. the question you should be askin’ is, 'why were ya nappin' red?' and the answer to yer question is, ya took too damn long! where the hell have ya been?” Red asks, rubbing the sleep out of his eyesockets.

Stretch sighs. “took me a bit to get here. don't you have somethin' to talk to me about, red?"

"a bit ta get here? shortcuts shortin’ out on ya? huh, stretch?” Red snarks.

“you’re just salty ‘cause you’re shorter than me.”

“i may be shorter than you, but at least i’m not baby ‘shwort circwuit’ stwetch.” Red laughs at his own baby voice, as Stretch sputters.

“i’m not the baby! i’m the same age as your damn brother-” Stretch falters, his skull heating.

“yer not, though. boss is actually si-”

“don’t you dare give me that six months older shit! and you’re only two years older than me.”
Red ignores him, beginning to crack up at Stretch’s embarrassment, sounding like a damn hyena.

Stretch just gives him a long, unamused stare. He pulls out a pack of cigarettes from his back pocket, and fiddles with his front pocket looking for his lighter. All the while Red’s howling laughter fills the hall.

“RED, COULD YOU STOP IT WITH YOUR DAMN INCESSANT CACKLING? SOME OF US ARE TRYING TO RELAX BEFORE SANS STARTS SHOVING SHIT DOWN OUR THROATS!” Edge yells from upstairs and that immediately shuts Red up.

Stretch clears his throat as he lights a cig, watching Red calm himself down. “so, what’d edge mean by sans shoving shit down our throat? didn’t ya have somethin’ to tell me?”

Red sighs and scratches the back of his head, looking a little shifty. “was waitin’ for ya to get back. sans stopped by an hour ago and said he’d be back around 11, which means sans’ll be here in five minutes. wants us all in the study for a meetin’. a shipment came in, ricky and his boys are plannin’ to pull somethin’ stupid, and he wants to hear from you about y/n today."

"how the hell did another shipment come in? and ricky? the hell? didn't we fucking deck him last week? does the kid ever learn?" Stretch asks.

"apparently ricky's got a damn rat that's in on us that surprisingly went under the radar at grillbs' and now we gotta take care of that bullshit all ova again. he knows that we're tryin' to stop the candy and everythin' else that's comin' in."

Stretch sighs and runs a hand over his skull.
damnit. while sans and papyrus figure out how the hell to transport the goods under the radar, me, blue and the fells have to take care of ricky for the fucking fifth time this month.

"but that doesn't explain how the hell another shipment came in red. didn't we bust the supplier a while ago?"

Shrugging, Red shoves his hands in his pockets. “apparently they’ve found another supplier. don’t know how, don’t know when or where, but there’s anotha one out there.”

“i still don’t understand where they’re getting the determination for the candy. i really thought we busted it with that last supplier. why did i just find out about this?”

Red pointedly glares at the taller skeleton and raises his bonebrows. “we just found out earlier today, and since SOMEONE was takin’ so damn long coming here, ya found out now. ya happy?”

“can you not remind me that my magic’s all fucked up again, please?! stars, if i dunno, sans lemme in on what the hell went on with the damn machine for once instead of—”

The tell-tale snapping and ripping sound of time and space enters the room, and a stout skeleton, slightly shorter than Red steps out, with Papyrus in tow. “instead of what, stretch?” Sans chuckles lowly, walking between the two monsters, looking up at Stretch. “whaddya got to say, huh?”

Stretch grumbles, looking down at the monster in front of him, taking his cig out of his mouth. “instead of bein’ a secretive asshole, yeah? me and red are judges too, not just you. went through the same shit, same knowledge. it’s been years and i still haven’t adjusted. the hell, sans?”

Sans shrugs noncommittally. “listen, stretch. i know as much as i’ve told you and red, and i work on the machine when the rest of you aren’t. the forceful removal combined with a completely new universe is gonna screw your soul frequency up, mess with your connection to the void. that’s all i know, and don’t forget this affects all of us.”

The don sighs, turns away and places his hat on the table, motioning for the others to follow him as he makes his way up the stairs. Red and Stretch knock on their respective brother’s doors as they walk down the long hall to Sans’ study. Boss and Blue fall in line, standing next to their brothers.

Blue tugs on Stretch’s sleeve, whispering “Did You Get The Don Mad?” Stretch shrugs, watching the monster in the deep blue suit in front of him talk to Papyrus.
He whispers back with his hand over Blue’s ear, “kinda? might make it worse with tonight’s meetin…” Blue only gives him a concerned look. “i know, i know. he ain’t gonna like it.”
“He Strictly Asked Me To Watch You Carefully On The Phone Today. Please Be Honest With Him.” His brother asks. Concern doesn’t look good on Blue, it makes Stretch feel bad.
Stretch gives his brother a little smile. “i’ll do m’best bro.”

Stretch sighs as they all come to a halt, Sans opening the door to his study. Sans’ damn extra fucking study. A large desk within the center of the large room, a laptop sitting on top with a monitor on the right. Simple desk lamp, bookshelves against both sides of the walls. A mix of trinkets and various books filling the shelves. Four plush chairs sit in front of his desk, each color-coded to their magic, ‘cause Papyrus wanted them all to match during meetings. Like any other judge, Sans of course gave in to his brother’s wants.

They all take a seat in their corresponding seats; Red in the dark red, Boss in the muted maroon, himself in the muted orange, and Blue in his neon blue chair. Sans takes a seat behind the desk as Papyrus stands next to him. “so, did red fill you all in about ricky and the new shipment?”

They all nod, and a chorus of “yes”es and “yup”s fill the room, with Boss clearing his throat. “IF I RECALL CORRECTLY, A COUPLE OF WEEKS AGO MY BROTHER, THE SWAPS AND I HAD BUSTED THE LAST SUPPLIER FOR RICKY AND HIS GANG.”

"i'm well aware of that boss. however, seems like ricky and his boys were set up with someone else again. i don't gotta lot of info quite yet since i just heard today from grillby. red, i'm gonna need you to gather intel on the shipment and supplier, and find that damn rat. go into work with your brother sometime this week."

Red smirks, reclining into his chair as Boss scoffs, snapping his head towards his brother.
"so it's time for my bi-monthly stand-up this week, ain't it boss?"

"I HATE YOU. I HATE YOU SO MUCH. IT'S BAD ENOUGH YOU DO YOUR INSUFFERABLE 'PRANK CALLING' EVERY DAY OF THE WEEK. BUT TO HEAR YOU DO YOUR STUPID JOKES FOR HOURS ON END? MADNESS!"

Red only laughs in response as Boss disapprovingly shakes his head.
"HOW COULD YOU ENABLE THIS?!" Boss shouts, pointedly gazing at Sans.

The skeleton monster at the desk chuckles, clasping his hands together, cracking his knuckles. Papyrus and Blue wince at the sound. “just let him crack a couple of jokes. no one expects the funny man to be gatherin’ any kind of intel after all.” Blue, Boss, and Papyrus groan in unison. Sans swivels around in his chair for a little, taking in the wondrous response. “anyways, once you gather that info on where the shipment is coming in and where the hell it’s comin from. me and paps transfer the candy to the lab, then grillby’s like usual. you four, like usual, take care of ricky and his boys again. from there, we bust the newest supplier.”

Red sighs. “word on the street is that they’ve got newer weapons according to our own rats. gotta be careful when we do rumble next time.”

Sans makes a noise in acknowledgment. “that’s why we keep one of their people once we bust them again. we find out more that way and they remember nothin’. so, that’s the biggest news we’ve got right now. ‘sides that, how are the territories?”

Boss pipes up again, “THE OUTSKIRTS OF THE MONSTER DISTRICT ARE FINE. A FEW STRAY THUGS HERE AND THERE, NOTHING WE CANNOT HANDLE. THE OTHER GANGS HAVE BEEN STAYING SURPRISINGLY QUIET LATELY…” Red nods. “business has been good, received a couple hit requests though.”

“noted. papyrus?”

“SANS ALREADY KNOWS, BUT THINGS HAVE BEEN JUST AS QUIET IN THE SOUTHEAST. OUR PEOPLE STATIONED HAVEN’T NOTICED ANYTHING LATELY.” If Stretch remembers right, you live right between the southeast and the outskirts.

“blue?”

“THE MONSTER DISTRICT HAS BEEN RELATIVELY QUIET. THE FELLS HAVE BEEN GOOD WITH KEEPING THE DISTRICT FREE FROM THUGS OR HATE EXTREMISTS. OUR SHIPMENTS AND DEALINGS HAVE BEEN GOING WELL!”
Stretch nods in agreement, cause well, it’s true. Things have been quiet on their part. They’ve been smuggling things in and out for a while, people, slightly questionable things, you name it.

Sans narrows his eyes for a minute as he jots it all down. “alright, that’s mostly what i like to hear. the quietness is a bit suspicious though. i’ll send word to the rest of the factions to stay alert.” Sans puts down his pen, turning his attention to Stretch with a widening grin. “now that that business is out of the way...stretch, status report on our girl?"

shit. sans smilin’ like that scares me. i didn’t do much earlier today though.

“y/n went home happy today. not even looking around for me all paranoid like she has been lately. would you care to explain that, stretch?”

Stretch shrugs. “she came in, bought some stuff. i joked around with her while i measured her out, nothin too interestin’.” He smiles just a little too softly, puffing out another smoke from his cig. Not like he’s lying or anything, he did just joke around with you. Did he touch you a lil? Sure did. Was it flirty? Maaaaybe...but Sans doesn’t need to know that. He knows it’s contradictory of him, and he just told Blue he’d be honest, but...this is something he wants to keep to himself.

"uh huh…" Sans says, "that true, blue?" raising a brow when he asks.

Stretch gulps, again and sends a look to his brother that 100% subtly screams ‘help me out????’

Blue narrows his eyes at his brother before slapping on his best attempt at a poker face. “YES. THE INTERACTIONS BETWEEN MISS Y/N AND STRETCH WERE COMPLETELY AND UTTERLY PLATONIC. NO FLIRTING OF ANY KIND WAS GOING ON! YUP, NONE OF THAT! NO PUNS OF ANY SORTS ABOUT GETTING LOST IN ANYONE’S EYES OF COURSE!”

Stretch facepalms. starsdamnit blue. i swear, we just talked about this!

Sans' grin, while growing wider is clearly strained. Next to him, Papyrus frowns slightly at the sight of his brother. “flirtin’s fine and all stretch, but we have some rules. and you know that. you said you measured her, did you touch her?"

Stretch's eyes widen a little. "what? why does that matter?"

"NOW BROTHER, THERE'S NO NEED TO GET LIKE THAT. SHE'S HIS AND RED'S SOULMATE TOO." Papyrus pipes up.

"that's not the point. did you touch her?" Sans adds with a glare.

“listen, i’d rather flirt a little than scare her out of her damn mind every night for the sake of ‘protection,' sans."

Sans leans forward, resting his elbows on his desk. His eyelights are gone.

"that's not what i asked, slim. did. you. touch.her?"

Stretch begins to sweat again. "barely. why?"

“what is barely, stretch?”

"her sides, her back. that's all. she asked for some alters to her jacket and i brought her back to measure her out. i…i just wanted a chance to touch her." Stretch admits.

Sans blinks, slowly, his eyelights returning. “alright. was that so hard?"

"no, but why can't i touch her?" Stretch's eyes narrow. What’s Sans’ deal about touch?

“listen slim, you trust me when i say you can’t touch her for too long alright?” Sans’ tone is biting as he continues, “all of you, but especially the judges, you do not touch y/n for prolonged periods of time. not yet anyway, you hear me?” Sans’ eyelights roll over all of them, his gaze rests the longest on Stretch and Red.

“what’d i do? i haven’t even spent time with her yet, damn.” Red scoffs, crossing his arms.

Sans shrugs, “i know, somehow, someway, you’re going to violate that, red. anyways, i need you all to say that you understand.”

The room fills with a chorus of “We Understand,” in various volumes.

Sans grins, “alright. now get outta here, we all got a skele-ton of work to get on.”
They all rise out of their chairs, except for Sans. As they all filter out of Sans’ study and back to their rooms, Stretch meets back up with his brother in the hall. Blue pulls him into his room, promptly shutting the door.

oh shit. Stretch begins to sweat for the what, third time that day? Blue takes a deep breath, his eyes closed as he holds his hands up to his face.

“Now What Was That?! That Was Your Best?” Blue scolds.

“i know, i know. i’m sorry.” Stretch winces, knowing just how hypocritical his actions were.

“So, Are You Going To Control Yourself Next Time We See Her? We Got Lucky This Time.” Blue rubs at his temples, his sockets closed tightly.

“i guess i have to now, but i don’t understand sans’ deal about touch. in our universe, we didn’t—soul resonance didn’t happen like that.” Sitting down, Stretch fiddles with his cig.

Blue plucks it from Stretch’s mouth.

“hey!—”

It’s dropped onto the ground, Blue stamping it down his his socked feet.

“No Smoking In My Room, Brother! Come On Now. Anyway, This Just Confirms Your Suspiscions.”

“yeah. he’s hidin’ somethin from us.”

“It’s Just A Matter of FIguring Out What This “Something” Is.” Blue finishes.

Stretch sighs, running a hand over his skull.

he’s the classic. she’s his first. but that doesn’t—that doesn’t explain why he’s scared of us touchin’ her.

well, the hell do i know? i’m just short circuit stretch.

~XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO~

The worst thing to wake up to on your morning shift is the following:

BOSS >:( 7:59 AM
GET ME A COFFEE BEFORE YOU GET HERE. FROM THAT ONE SHOP DOWN THE STREET, MOCHA MAX.
…THE CASHIER KNOWS MY ORDER.

So here you are, standing outside the brown building in your makeshift uniform: the whitest shirt you’ve got and some black jeans. You step in the building and there’s a line, the smell of freshly ground coffee greeting your nose. Some gentle music plays in the background, bouncing off the walls. This isn’t your first time here actually.

What a coincidence that Boss sends you to the same coffee shop you lost your wallet in. Life’s funny like that, isn’t it? You briefly wonder if that same, charmingly snarky skeleton cashier is working this morning. Looking up at the menu, you weigh the options between a shaken espresso and a cappuccino because god knows you’ll need the extra caffeine.

Ooh, a vanilla-shaken espresso sounds good though. Fuck, but it’ll give you the jitters and you’ll have a repeat of last week—

“Fucking hell, I would not have come here if I knew there’d be a monster working at the counter!” The lady in front of you finishes.

Seriously? Are you kidding? It’s been seven years since monsters came up—

“and you’re still bein’ racist? we’ve been here for years, lady. yer on the outskirts of monster territory and ya don’t expect monsters in the establishments outside it? really?”

It turns out it is the same skeleton from last time working here. You smile, noticing how he’s essentially read your mind.

“W…Well Red! You won’t be getting my patronage at this establishment any longer!” the lady turns and leaves, red in the face, clutching her purse close to her figure.

“Good riddance,” you say as you step up to the counter. “I’m so sorry about her.”

Red, you assume, shakes his head and his hands, smiling. His gold tooth glints in the light. “issalright, she’s not the first. sorry y’had to hear that, y/n. java chip frap for boss and what’re you gonna get?”

“He gets a java chip frappe, for real?!? Wait, How’d you—”

“know yer order? boss told me. ‘n before you ask doll, yes, boss is my bro.”

You laugh, taken aback. “Shit, Red. Took all the words out of my mouth.”

“great, so tell me what i’m puttin’ in your hands ‘sides my bro’s extremely sweet coffee.” He finishes with a grin.

“I think I’ll get a shaken espresso. Show him I’ve got slightly more adult tastes than he does when I get there.” You pull out the credit card when Red stops you, his hand over yours briefly.

“uh-uh, yer all good doll. you deal with my bro and his shenanigans on a daily basis, this one’s on the house.” He winks, before turning to the baristas behind him “edge special and a shaken espresso! get on it!” He yells then turns back to you, waving you off playfully and sticking his tongue out at you.

He’s got a tongue?!??!?

You blush as you sit at the same table you were at last time you came to the Mocha Max, running your fingers over the golden credit card given to you just a little over a month ago. A blessing and a curse, all started here. When you misplaced your own wallet with slowly dimming optimism all the while riding the high of being flirted with by—

“whatcha thinking about, doll?” Ringed skeletal hands, like Blue and Stretch’s. Gold and silver on both hands, one with a deep red ruby set in a gold ring lay on his middle phalange. They’re wrapped around a large frappuccino and your shaken espresso.

The skeleton pulls off his visor, rubbing at his forehead. He’s still taller than you, even when you’re sitting down. He’s about six foot something to Boss’ seven feet stature. He pushes your cup towards you.

You take it gratefully, sipping before answering. “Just the last time I was here. And how Boss has a sweet tooth! That’s the one thing I didn’t expect.”
Red chuckles, idly stirring Boss’ frapp, messing with the perfect presentation of the whipped cream and chocolate sauce. “my bro’s funny like that. secret softy.”

“He sure as hell doesn’t seem like it! Shit, don’t fuck with his whip, the last time I did he—”

“i’ll make sure he doesn’t yell at you doll, don’t worry. you can blame it on his imbecile of an older brother, eh? it gives me somethin’ to do with my hands. how long do i got you til, doll?”

“I’ve got until 9:15, what time is it?”

Red looks at the clock above you and sighs, almost pouting. “aww. it’s nine. i’ve only got ya for a lil’ bit, you still get there early, right?”

“I can push it to stay with a cool skeleton,” you retort with a smile, sipping at your espresso. You’re finding it surprisingly easy to flirt back with him.

Red flushes, well, red. “aw, y/n. my bro’s cooler than me, but i ‘preciated it. hey, i’ll be seein’ ya sooner than you think, alright?”

You raise your eyebrows as you tuck your phone into your back pocket, “Really?” You perk up. “When?”

He winks, before putting his visor back on. “thas a surprise, doll. look forward to it, alright? Tell my bro i said goodmorning.” Red rises, rubbing his hands against his pants before returning behind the counter.

Grabbing both the drinks, you sit up and leave as well, making your way to Bar and Grillby’s. You try to pace yourself as you drink, trying to calm the caffeine-induced jitters before they get any worse. What did Red mean by seeing you soon? Is he stopping by Bar and Grillby’s later?
You hope to see him, he’d be a nice surprise for your day.

The glass doors at Bar and Grillby’s open for you right before you walk in, with an expectant Boss at the edge.

“MY COFFEE! WHATEVER HAPPENED TO IT? WHAT DID YOU DO?” He exclaims, running up to you and plucking the giant frap out of your hands and making it seem smaller in his.

“Your brother needed something to do with his hands. And hey, I never pegged you for a sweet tooth, Boss!” You ignore the sputters from Boss’ frame as you walk past him.

“YOU JUST LET MY BROTHER MESS WITH MY MOUNTAIN OF WHIPPED CREAM? NOW IT WON’T TASTE THE SAME! I THOUGHT YOU WERE STRONG ENOUGH TO REJECT HIS ADVANCES!” Boss stomps his feet like a kid, even as he takes a sip.

He follows you to the staff lounge as you drop off your bag and jacket, tying up your waist apron on, tucking in your pad of paper, pens, and straws.

“UGH. IT’S ALL MIXED IN THERE NOW! IT’S NOT. THE. SAME.” He shakes the drink in front of you as you lean in to take a sip; you’re used to Boss’ shenanigans at this point.

“Tastes just fine to me. C’mon Boss, we’ve gotta open up.” You wait for him by the door, triumphantly watching him turn red. “You telling me that you’re going to waste a perfectly good frappe just because there’s some whip in it? I’ve just got stronger taste buds than you then.”

He sputters as he puts on his gloves. “I HAVE STRONGER TASTEBUDS THAN YOU RUNT, HOW DARE YOU IMPLY OTHERWISE. I WILL FINISH THIS FRAPPUCCINO.” And so he does. It’s gonna be a long day.

~XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO~

The two of you walk out the staff lounge, and with the other employees, you all open up the floors and parts of the bar. Tables are wiped, chairs are placed. Candles are lit. The works.
Once the day gets into full swing, Boss has you working as hostess. So you’re placing people at tables. Telling ‘em wait times. Picking up the phone. No more Karens this time around, thank god.

Then the phone rings later into the night. More people are filing in for the standup that night, monsters and humans alike, all abuzz for whoever’s coming to perform tonight. You’ve never caught up with who’s performing when, you’re too busy serving or you’re out before the performer even starts.

Tonight, the performer is running late. Several different patrons come up to you, asking where he is. It’s a full house tonight. You try and grab Boss’ attention as more and more guests filter infront of your podium.

“Where’s Cherry?” One asks. “Yeah! We want Cherry! Could someone call him?” Says another.

You try and wave Boss down and give him your hardest stare with pleading eyes. He mouths to you, “I’LL BE THERE AS SOON AS I CAN.” As he speaks with other staff about god knows what.

The phone is still ringing. The crowd is still chattering even as you pick up the phone.

“hey, do you guys have updog?”

It’s the prankcaller. They have terrible fucking timng.

You laugh into your sigh, so tired, “Nope! We don’t.”

“damn, then what’s under there?”

You roll your eyes. “What’s under where?”

The caller laughs, “i’ve gotcha doll.” The very same laugh reverberates throughout the lobby, the baritone filling the room.

“Red?!” You exclaim before smiling sheepishly at the patrons who stare angrily at you, then awestruck at Red.

“CHERRY!” The group of patrons yell in unison.

“told ya i’d be seein’ ya sooner than later!” He walks up to the podium, looking around. “throw me a bone, huh? what’s a guy gotta do for a drink ‘round here?”

“STARS RED, FINALLY! DO YOU KNOW HOW BAD THIS MAKES ME LOOK? GET UP THERE, DAMNIT!” Boss storms over, dragging Red throughout the crowd, he holds his hand out. Someone gives him a whiskey. He’s thrown up onto the stage, and a wooden stool and a mic surrounded by a red glow settle in front of him.

He sits, drinks his whiskey, then clears his throat and pulls the mic close.

“sorry ‘bout that folks, now, let’s get started, shall we?”