Undertale Scenarios

Of Spare Keys and Horror Movies: Mettaton x Reader

This is my offering to the demon-child majestic_demon_child as a symbol of my service.

WARNING: Mention of gory stuff and murder. Proceed with caution, baby cinnamon buns.

You squinted at the picture of Mettaton on the magazine against the candlelight, the sounds of the raging storm somewhat muffled by your thick curtains. He was modeling a preppy sort of outfit with a sweater vest over a polo shirt and pencil skirt in a very anime-esque fashion, complete with cute glasses. You skimmed over the description, catching words like 'adorable' and 'schoolgirl' within the sea of praise.

Everyone seemed to just dote on him a lot, and you were really no different. Why did it take a blackout to realize that? You laughed internally.

With a yawn, it seemed to hit you just how lucky you were to be gym buddies with Undyne. Two years ago, the older woman had befriended you while jogging over a treadmill, forging a friendship that eventually got her to introduce you to her girlfriend - whom you realized was just one of the most incredible inventors of the generation - who was in fact the technical mother of social media's favorite monstar. With Undyne's pushing you also befriended Mettaton and even became close friends. After a moment you realized just how many people would kill to be in your place.

The count was. . . well, scary. You were even certain that it wasn't enough people. And the thought that there were more was scarier.

So now that you were plagued with a hanging nightmare of Mettaton's stalkers creeping through your house, you decided to stay put in your beanbag chair, going through the month's Fashion Police issue. You figured that if any rabid fans wanted to kill you and take your skin, you might as well leave the world in style.

More pictures of people modelling outfits appeared, as well as a few paragraphs of some actress's daily fashion, when you turned the page, and as you kept reading you grew steadily more tired. Fashion was fun and interesting, sure, but you had less sleep than caffiene lately, thanks to binging on a new anime Alphys threw your way.

You glanced at the general direction of your bedroom and frowned. You were really too comfortable to get up from your giant beanbag. Making a swift decision, you blew out the candle nearest you to avoid setting the house on fire or something stupid. Then, now in total darkness, you fell asleep in the cushioning warmth, thinking of MTT-brand stabbing knives and denim button-up skirts. . .

"(Y/N), darling! Taking a nap, were you? I hope you don't mind if I just. . ."

You paused in the middle of being roused awake. That was definitely Mettaton. You blinked a few times before cringing as he turned on the lights, flooding the living room with an orange glow.

"Did you-" you yawned "-break into my house?" you listened for a moment, and heard the storm strong as ever. "It's storming? Is the power still out?"

"Yes, I broke into your house, and yes, the power is out," he replied before you could berate yourself for asking about the power. "But I set up an emergency generator outside in your garage; I hope you don't mind."

"What?" you said, frowning. In the moment between your talking and his reply, you listened intently and heard a low, almost unnoticable thrum from - as Mettaton said - the garage. You looked at the clock. Remembering what time it was when you slept, you wagered you'd had about. . . five minutes of sleep.

"Yes, it was a bit difficult to get started and everything - not to mention it wasn't collapsible so I had to carry it-ooh! Is that Fashion Police?" he picked up and perused the magazine strewn across your torso, looking especially interested in the pages including him.