Other Ways To Say "J'adore vous" (Sans x Reader)

C1-Attics have ghosts-not skeletons!

Fumbling, you juggled the shopping bags in your hands, attempting to multitask. The mounds of bags of clothes in your arm rendering you sightless as they stacked over your face. You kind of felt like one of those bodyguards for rich kids, following them around so they don't get into trouble. And carrying around their shopping when they went overboard.

Shopping the entire morning was not your usual pass time, but Regina had insisted you needed new clothes because your outfit was “a fashion statement not even Donald Duck could get with.” So, hitting the town in her absurdly pink honda, she had dragged you around every store she could find. Clothes, food, shoes, jewellery, perfumes–you thought it, she bought it. Apparently, she was well off, so she only let you buy things when she thought they weren't her style at all.

Loads and heaps of bags had stacked up in the car, and only when it got to the point that she couldn't possibly stack in anymore did you both leave.

“Regina, would you mind opening the door? My hands are kind of full” You shifted the bags again, the straps cutting into your wrists.

She shrugged, her blonde hair shifting around her shoulders, and, finally, looking up from her phone, she twisted the handle to open the door.

Sighing, you made your way inside, placing the bags down by the stairs. Straightening back up, your spine popped, and you returned to the car to help bring in the rest of the bags. Reaching into the boot, you picked up a small pandora bag and a large primark bag, shoving them down your arms to try to carry more at once.

Honestly, you could get used to a life like this. Working for Regina, cleaning for Regina, cooking for Regina. It was all so fun. You cringed at the tear in a paper bag, your grip too tight against the ones resting in your hand.

You felt bad for being rude, thinking cruel thoughts. Especially since Regina had been your friend for years, and she was the one who invited you into her home when no one else would. You glanced at the house. It's a tall structure looking down on you. Come to think of it, how did she even afford this place? She barely had enough money since her father cut her off when you last spoke to her, and her makeup business hadn't taken off yet.

Whatever.

You shrugged it off–just like she did earlier–and brought in another load. It's such a hassle. You thought this trip was meant to be all about you, but you understood why someone had to be selfish sometimes.

Closing the boot and locking the door, you entered the house, shrugging off your jacket. You couldn't wait to spend the next few hours trying on your clothes, hanging them up, and then not wearing them for the next few weeks. You never really got out much except for work anyway, so your uniform and pyjamas were all you wore.

“HUMAN? ARE YOU JOINING US FOR DINNER?”

You jumped at the loud voice, stopping your search through the bags for your stuff as Papyrus called out for you. You placed a hand on your chest, feeling your heart beat rapidly against your ribs. Turning to look at him, you smiled, his eye lights bright and soft.

“Sorry Papyrus, I have a bunch of reports to fill out. I promise to get something later, though. If you save me some, I'll reheat it when I come back down” You beamed back up at him, hoping it's reassuring enough for him to drop it. You didn't think you could handle another dinner with on purpose elbow bumps, mean snarls, dirty looks, and a mimic of how you eat. Excuse you, but they were skeletons, like they were ones to talk.

You refused to do anything about it. Just yet. There was a limit to how much of this you could endure. You had always been told that you had trouble biting your tongue, and one day, it would bite you back. You were one hundred percent prepared to knock some bone boys around if they so much as looked at you funny again.