Undertale - Frisk X Lust : Not Done Getting My Hands Bloody

Ch 1 - Closer

Bitch Lasagna >:)

Warning(s) : Mentions of murder and blood, mentions of PTSD, SFW teasing and romance

Word Count : 3618

***

Frisk was standing in front of a sink full of bubbles and clean dishes. She peered out of the window within her sight, leaning against the cool, wet surface of the kitchen counter. The front of her shorts were becoming damp with the droplets of water that occasionally splashed out of the basin. The tank top Frisk bore was no better off; sweat was slowly gathering on the fabric.

In past summers, the human had struggled with her dark, thick hair. This year, she had thought ahead by electing to cut it into a shorter style. Her family had commented on how similar it was to one of her childhood, but all she had to do was grin. The rest of her developed body destroyed any inclination of Frisk still being a kid, and the human recognized that fact. She used it to her advantage in many ways.

Two hands mindlessly continued grabbing cups, plates, and silverware alike before gently scrubbing them. Her movements were slow, languid even. Her body was on autopilot as she zoned out, eyes honed in on a tree on the other side of the glass window. Frisk's mind was a blank slate. She felt completely aware of her every shift since there were so few of them. Her brain was able to pinpoint when all cognitive thought ceased, as well as when her nimble fingers wandered around the soapy sink in front of her. A fingernail scraped against a metallic surface. Frisk immediately leaned over to grab it, not processing the object, gaze never leaving the tree.

Straightening, she silently began washing her new item. Soft music playing from a speaker behind her was the only noise in her brain. The gentle love song had helped lull her into this trance. It felt peaceful, like she finally had a moment to herself. The young adult was very surprised to say the least when a knock sounded out behind her.

"Hey...anybody home?"

Frisk snapped out of her thoughts in a violent way. Her grip increased tenfold on the piece of silverware in her clutch. Her SOUL illuminated with magic. She could feel adrenaline coursing through her as she whirled around to a defensive, and equally startled, Sans.

"Woah there," the skeleton started, eye lights becoming fixed on the object in the woman's hand, "hey...there buddy..."

Sans' bony hands removed themselves from the sides of his grey t-shirt. They meekly rose in height until they were about shoulder level. Two palms rotated until they faced the riled up human in a sign of surrender. Fingers were twitching as the man's gaze flicked back and forth between Frisk's face and the metallic object she held. His own SOUL magic was threatening to light up.

"...let's put the knife down...kay?"

It was only then that Frisk glanced down for a second. She had never registered that a kitchen blade had made its way into her palm. The light from the window flickered on the metallic tint as she rotated it. Frisk looked back up to see Sans shying away from her. The woman thought about what the skeleton had just said. Then she came to a realization.

Oh. He's afraid. That voice. Sans is scared. How...

Frisk mentally faltered on the next word. She glanced at every aspect of the fearful person before her. Sans' easy going demeanor was gone. Instead, his body language showed signs of a less friendly era in both of their lives. It showed hints of an interesting time for Frisk. A bad time. One where the two had spent eternities in a golden corridor, fighting. Blade against bone, battle after battle, reset after reset.

The memories washed over the woman. Frisk almost enjoyed remembering the pain she caused. Sans clearly felt the opposite. Screams still echoed in both of their minds. The comedian despised them, but the human adored the sounds. Frisk took an easy step forward, knife in hand. The skeleton instinctively took one backwards.