Holding hands? (underfell Papyrus/reader) SFW.
Last day of Papyrus self shipping week (check it out over at @selfshipperapproved ) </3 but don’t worry, I will constantly be posting more lol.
if you are interested in the chapters I deemed NSFW enough not to post here, check out my work on ao3; Papyrus gets bitches! (Self insert week)
description- you are about to get a piercing… you need Fell Papyrus to hold your hand to ‘get you through your self-subjugated torture’.
CW: Piercing, body modification done by a professional!
Papyrus didn’t understand body modification for a while after getting to the surface. At first, he thought maybe humans had patterned skin when he saw tattoos.
Now after learning about human culture, he understands better.
Of course, Papyrus doesn’t have skin to tattoo or pierce- so he can’t quite grasp why you would want to have a needle shoved through you. voluntarily. More than once.
Safe to say he was your big tough support skeleton for your upcoming appointment. You had been looking at a certain piercing for a few months now, and taking Papyrus to watch it happen only further convinced you it was a great idea.
That’s how you ended up in Papyrus’ sleek black sports car (The fact that it was environmentally friendly too was really cool), driving to your appointment with grace and style.
Once at the building with al gorgeous mural on the front, Papyrus finally started sweating. The small drops of ruby red sweat that fell and dissipated in the air almost comical as he held the door for you.
“ER, ARE YOU SURE YOU WANT TO DO THIS?” his whisper was heard by everyone in the shop, which was only the man arranging the jewelry in a cabinet up front.
“Yes, Thanks for checking, Papyrus” you grin up at him slightly, trying not to show amusement at his fear for you.
Well, that is until he approached the man that called out to ask if you had an appointment, “YES, MY HUMAN IS HERE TO GET… PIERCED.”
You cut in after Papyrus to say your piercers name and that you were here few minutes early.
“Yeah, She’s cleaning up in the back,” I show the man my ID and age, signing the papers.
Eventually he leads us back to your piercers set up, letting her know you were all set.
“Brought emotional support?” she asks with a grin, gesturing you to sit down- Papyrus didn’t stray far away, his hand locked in yours.
You didn’t have the heart to out Papyrus on the fact that he is here more so for his own emotional support than he was yours, but the idea that he was so worried he wanted to be right beside you was endearing.
You could feel Papyrus’s eyelights scanning everything and burning into you as she prepped you and whipped you off with an alcohol pad.
“Okay, deep breath and breathe out when I start, okay?” you complied, waiting for her to position the needle… you started breathing out as soon as she started pressing the needle.
You almost flinch as the needle broke the skin with an uncomfortable sharp feeling on your skin…
But the tense grip on your hand, courtesy of Papyrus, kept you distracted enough for the pain to linger only momentarily as she slid the jewelry into place.
You caught Papyrus looking a little to pale for a skeleton as she whipped off the small amount of blood that started to drip around the fresh wound.
His hand was still locked tight in yours as you walked out and back to the car.
He only let go of your hand once he opened the door for you, ever the gentle-skeleton.
As soon as he was in the car, he started bombarding you with questions-
“ARE YOU OKAY?” yes, Papy, I’m fine.
“DO YOU NEED HEALING? YOU WERE BLEEDING!” No, it has to heal on its own so it can build scar tissue.
“ARE YOU IN PAIN?” Not really, I can just feel it throbbing a little.
“WHAT ABOUT THE CHUNK OF YOUR FLESH LEFT IN THE NEEDLE?” She’s going to throw it out in a bio-hazard bin.
“IT IS VERY SHINY” pretty, isn’t it?
“YOU LOOK VERY BAD ASS” Thank you, Papy.
“SEASONED BY BATTLE! WILLINGLY!”
He continued to gush about how bad ass humans must seem to willingly scar themselves for show.
At least he understood it was for aesthetic.
Even if he was morbidly curious about how it felt to have a hole stabbed through your flesh.
You don’t have the heart to tell him he looked nauseated when he watched it happen. Though, Papyrus could deal with many blood, guts, and gore things without flinching.
A part of your soul sang out that it was because Papyrus cared about you and didn’t like seeing you hurt…
And you really couldn’t complain about something like that.
