Sanscest Oneshots | Bored Lmao | Requests Open

Does Love Always Fail? | Horror x Dust | Angst, Fluff, Limeish

Little Authors note: A lot of this is taken directly from 'Love always fails' from this oneshots series. However things will change. So I do encourage you to re-read it as things won't be identical. Thank you.

A recipe is mentioned in this chapter. I got it from here:

https://drivemehungry.com/rich-creamy-homemade-hot-chocolate/

Also some slightly sexual themes towards the end (there is no actual sex, but references to kinks and such)

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Love would never work. That's what Phantom Papyrus always told Dust. 'What's the point in trying when no one will love you.' At first it was whatever, Dust coped fine on his own. However the relentless bashing, the constant mentioning that you weren't even worthy of as much as 'Hello' or 'How are you?' hurt. Like being beat across the head with a baseball bat. And this didn't stop, it never did. Even after Dust met Nightmare. It only got worse. Any positive emotion Dust felt to anyone, something as little as respect, his brother would berate him for. That's why Dust never talked. He was always having someone in his ear constantly. Calling him every profanity under the sun. He always had a major distraction. He could try ignore it, but nothing could help. And he tried. No medication in the world would keep him productive whilst eliminating his brother. He refused to get rid of the scarf, as much as it hurt him it was the only thing that helped him hang on to what once was.

With the eventual addition of Killer the group felt more like a group instead of just a sort of 'hitman for hire'. He, Killer and Nightmare. Killer was the opposite of Dust in some ways. He was talkative, sometimes too talkative. Dust never cared, he'd just let Killer go on. Killer liked to, as he puts it, 'yap' constantly. Even if they weren't actually listening. Just if someone was there it was fine by him. Sometimes he would flirt for the sake of it. An emotionless being had no clue how much his words would impact someone like Dust. From this point Papyrus had only been calling him mean names, and making fun of him, lecturing him as to how no one to ever exist would ever love him. Dust hadn't said a word to Papyrus since a year after the human stopped RESETing. After Dust had read upon schizophrenia during his endless time alone, he learnt not to antagonize the hallucinations. Whatever, Dust dealt with it in any way possible. If listening to Killer babble on about whatever made him happy he'd do it. It gave him something to focus on besides the red scarf screaming the same things at him over and over.

With Nightmare and Killer it never really mattered, he had no attraction to them. After Cross joined, Dust had a lot more of Papyrus screaming at him. Nearly 24 hours a day he was moments from tears. Not because the insults upset him. Not because the fact it was Papyrus. But because it was annoying. Imagine trying to sleep, and not being able to, because all you hear is constant speaking, screaming in your ear all the time. It would never stop. Twenty-Four hours a day. Seven days a week. It got no better when Error became a sort-of member. Papyrus only got worse. The more time he spent around men, the more Papyrus acted up. Whenever he went out alone, or was around some kind of genderbent AU, Papyrus never spoke. It annoyed Dust, what was so different about them? He had a suspicion Papyrus didn't like homosexuality in any way for a while, but had no explicit proof, nor did he have any proof at all still. He had no evidence to back it up. Plus, he still refused to burn the scarf.

The final member joined. Horror. Dust wasn't there when Horror entered for the first time. Nor was he there the day after. But the third day in he was eating breakfast. Papyrus was being quiet. His soul was calm. It was very early after all, before Nightmare would even leave his room. Then he looked up, seeing a larger skeleton, at least a foot and a half taller than him, maybe two or even up to 3 at a push, who easily weighed at least 5 times Dust's size. More realistically around 7 or 8 times, but it was hard to really tell. He was making a coffee. His back turned to Dust. Dust's soul skipped a beat. He was enamoured, no, he was. He was. In love. Horror was, physically sculpted. Strong, built, and looked like he could knock Dust out in a second. With every strength comes a weakness of course, and Dust was well aware that Horror had quite weak magic, barely being able to use bone attacks, with most of his magic going to teleportation and keeping his body alive.