#shorester

“You’re limping.”

“Am not.”

“Crash into another dangerous monster on a run did you?”

You snort. “Like I could afford to be in debt to another Grillby.” You’ve reached the door and instinctively move to grab the handle with your bad arm. Ow, nope, bad idea. You switch last minute, awkwardly shifting your bag on your shoulder and reaching out with your right hand. “Anyway, I’ve got to get ready, did you actually need anything?”

The door shuts with a solid thud. You blink at Gaster’s hand just above your head, keeping the door firmly closed. Your heart shoots up into your throat and your skin prickles from the mere presence of him right behind you. “What the hell are you doing?” you ask as calmly as you can, still facing the door.

“I was about to ask you that,” he says just as casually, as if his arm wasn’t trapping you one on side. “Or rather, what the hell did you do?”

“What, the limp? I just took a rough landing earlier, it’s no big deal.”

You can hear the grin in his voice, the smug bastard. “I thought you said you weren’t limping.”

Lip curling into a snarl, you turn around. “Look, you can’t just–”

You’re cut off suddenly. Because Gaster has leaned down and pressed his mouth against yours in a kiss. All annoyance, all pain and all thoughts stutter to a complete and utter halt. Your bag slips from your shoulder and lands on the ground with a muffled thud and still you stand frozen, mouth caught in a shockingly gentle kiss that can barely be called a kiss at all but rather the press of smooth bone against your lips.

What is he….what the hell…?

Then, pain shoots up your arm at a sudden grip and movement and you jerk back, head smacking against the door.

Gaster has already moved his stare away from you, hands deftly pushing your sleeve up your injured arm to reveal a harsh marring of bruises and scraps. “Several lacerations, most appear superficial but clean. Bruising, will probably darken over the next day or so.”

“Hey–“ Your voice is a high croak.

~~~

33. An unexpected kiss that shocks the one receiving it.

(Note: This will reference stuff that happens in the fic. It’ll be left intentionally vague but there will be some *minor spoilers* for Lightning and Silks. Also this is a scenario that might possibly show up in the fic itself so...consider this, at the moment, semi-canon)

~~~~

Stupid, you were so stupid. You knew better than you try and make jumps when you couldn’t clearly see the landing area. But it was a path you had taken a dozen times before, you knew the patch of concrete that your feet would meet between the layered boxes that offered a shielding wall from prying eyes like you knew each scrape and scuff on your shoes. 

@lanthegreatarts once again knocked it out of the park with this commission! I needed some more Shore and Gaster love in my life and they captured exactly what I was going for

(You have given me too much power afsdhc)

16:  One person pouting, only to have it removed by a kiss from the other person.

:D 

****

W.D Gaster is a passionate monster. About many, many things! However, such passion sometimes leads to...disagreements. Sometimes these are loud, explosive disagreements. Like the time Gaster somehow managed to get sauce all over the ceiling, leading to a rather heated argument with Grillby about proper kitchen techniques and that somehow led to them yelling about Grillby using Gaster’s modified mixer before it was ready. Said mixer had belonged to Grillby in the first place, but that didn’t seem so important compared to the fact that it spewed magical lasers the second it turned on and ruined one of Grillby’s favorite bowties and maybe Grillby had accidently burned Gaster’s socks in return. 

You had stayed clear of that one, watching the whole thing with wide eyes as you peeked over the back of the couch. Fortunately, that fight didn’t last long and both mixer and socks got replaced.

Today’s disagreement however, is quite a bit calmer and far more adorable. 

“That’s! Not how space! Works!” 

Pieces of popcorn ping off the tv screen in a futile attempt to disrupt the movie playing on it. The characters continue undeterred, oblivious to Gaster’s fuming. Sandra Bullock continues to gasp and scream as George Clooney drifts off into the dark of space and Gaster groans loudly. 

“Momentum needs only the tiniest bit of force to change direction in a zero gravity situation!” he proclaims to you. “The second she hooked her foot, all she had to do was give a little tug on the tether but noooo. Now that poor man is sailing away into nothing.” 

“Ah but then we wouldn’t have the stakes of her being utterly alone in space, now would we?” 

“That’s not something you want!” 

“It’s a movie G, just watch and see what happens.” 

Gaster shuts his mouth. For about two minutes. 

“Corpses don’t freeze in deep space!” 

And so it goes. For the rest of the movie, Gaster throws a piece of popcorn at the screen every time he deems something is incorrect until a small pile builds up. To the film’s credit, there are a few moments that make him pause, brow furrowing adorably as he grumbles admission that they ‘at least got something right’. 

Your attention is more on him than the movie. He’s full on pouting as he nibbles at what popcorn he hasn’t thrown at the screen and it’s unfairly cute. As the credits roll, you shift your feet on the couch. “Did you like it?” 

He gives you an incredulous look. 

“Aside from the inaccuracies,” you add. 

“A film cannot claim to be a true masterpiece while visibly showing such incorrect demonstrations of science!” 

“It’s called poetic license.” You shift a bit closer and he sets the bowl aside to properly sit in a cross legged position facing you. 

“But people will look at this film and assume that’s completely how space works!” 

“Most people aren’t going to space anytime soon,” you say with a grin. “And those that are will have a good deal more learning that what this one movie will give them.” 

Gaster’s mouth turns down into another pout, puffing out his cheeks slightly. Oh good grief, he’s got no right being that cute. 

“You may be right about that, but it’s still no excuse to-mph!” 

You can’t hold it back anymore. You surge forward and press a kiss right on that pouting face of his, very effectively cutting him off. When you pull back, he gapes at you, his entire skull flooding with a deep purple blush. 

“W-what- I-!” he stammers. 

You shrug sheepishly. “You’re cute when you’re passionately pouting.” 

At that, Gaster grabs at his turtleneck and pulls the neck up over his face, though it doesn’t hide the blush that creeps all the way to the top of his skull. “That’s-that’s hardly fair,” he mutters, voice muffled by fabric. 

“What’s not fair is you being so harsh to these Hollywood films.” You flop back against the couch reaching for the remote. “Ready for the next one?” 

“....Will it result in more k-kissing?” 

“There’s a good chance I’d say, yeah.” 

He lowers the sweater just enough to peek out at you. “.....All right then. I suppose I could endure another inaccurate space movie.” 

(Also is it ok if I send another?)

(You can send as MANY as you like :D Also, just for you, you get BOTH) 

48: One person has to bend down in order to kiss their partner, who is standing on their tip-toes to reach their partner’s.

***

Monsters, far more than humans, come in a very wide variety of shapes and sizes. The smallest you’ve seen are no larger than the palm of your hand, while the largest ones easily reach the size of whales (though for the most part, those monsters stick to the ocean or mountains and aren’t nearly as common). 

You’re just lucky enough to have found yourself involved with two that range on the much taller than the average human spectrum. Grillby is admittedly more fluid in his height, given the ever changing nature of the flames on the top of his head. But at any given moment, he easily hits the mid range between six and six and a half feet tall.

Then there’s Gaster. Gaster, who ‘supposedly’ modeled after a typical human skeleton. There is nothing typical about that monster, from his bone structure to the fact that he stops just shy of seven feet tall when he actually stands up straight. 

As for you. Well. Tall isn’t exactly a word one would use to describe you. ‘Tiny’, ‘Squirt’, and ‘Beansprout’ are the more common words. Standing between the two monsters never fails to encourage snickers among your friends. You’re more than used to it at this point. Not to mention, there is something very satisfying about being able to be very snugly fit between them during movie time on the couch and other such activities. 

So it fills you with great delight on the very rare occasion that Gaster and Grillby find themselves too short to reach something. In this particular instance, it’s Grillby that you come upon; he’s frowning up at the very top of one of the shelves in the bar where the ‘good stuff’ lives. The item he’s after is a bottle that’s sat at the very top shelf for as long as you’ve been coming to the bar, like some silent watcher of the place.

“What happened to the stool in the kitchen?” he asks, flames twitching like the tail of a hyper cat. 

“Uh, Gaster might have broken it. Last week when he did the thing with the-”

“Toaster, yes I remember now.” Grillby sighs. “When I put it up there I didn’t think anyone was ever actually going to want it, let alone put in a pre-party request for it.” 

“I could climb the shelves?” you offer with a wide grin. 

“Absolutely not.” 

Ah, a shame but not surprising. You purse your lips. “Oh! Here, kneel down.” 

His brows raise with a dash of color. “That’s the opposite of what we’re trying to do here.” 

“Hush and just do it.” 

He snorts a soft puff of smoke but does as you ask, lowering down to his knees. Gleefully you move behind him and carefully swing your legs over his shoulders. “Think you handle lifting me up?” 

That gets a genuine laugh out of him. “I think I can manage.” Hands on your calves, he smoothly stands back up with no effort. To him and his mighty elemental strength, you probably weigh about as much as a loaf of bread to him.

You squeak at the sudden change in height, wrapping your arms around his neck. The floor is so far away! “Wow, you really can see everything up here,” you say breathlessly. 

“You okay?” 

“Yeah, just adjusting to the change in altitude. The air’s rather thin up here.” 

“Just grab the bottle, would you please?”    

You gently whack his head. “Gimme a minute, this is a new experience!” 

The soft tingle of the bell at the front of the empty bar signals Gaster’s return from his work at the university. He pauses just inside the door, a mighty grin creeping up his skull at the sight of you two. 

“Why Shore, it looks like those growth simulants I’ve slipped in your drinks are finally working,” he says lightly as he crosses over to you, casually tossing his bag down on an empty chair as he passes by it. 

“You jest but I wouldn’t put it past you.” Woah, this is weird. For the first time you’re actually looking down at the skeleton, rather than craning your neck up. It makes a delighted thrill run through your chest. “Good day at work?” 

He hums in affirmation, pressing a skeletal nuzzling kiss on Grillby’s cheek. “Hello dear.” 

“Hi,” Grillby murmurs sweetly.

You pout. “Hey, where’s mine?” 

Cheekily, Gaster sighs. “Well I can’t reach you up there, now can I?” 

“Oh put in a little effort!” You crook your finger at him. “C’mon, lets see some tippy toes from you for once.” 

Gaster’s brows raise. “May I borrow you?” he asks Grillby. 

Grillby shrugs under your legs. “Go wild. I’m already the stool for the day it seems.” 

Gaster places one long fingered hand on Grillby’s chest for balance and rises up on his tiptoes. Even so, you have to bend over a little to meet the gentle kiss he nuzzles on your cheek. Warmth blooms and tingles over the spot his kiss landed and you grin goofily at him as he lowers himself back down. 

“Satisfied?” he asks. 

“Very.” You put your hands on Grillby’s cheeks, gently turning his head up to you. “And one for my favorite stepstool.” You kiss his forehead, all hunched over to reach. But it’s worth it to see the pleased blue that swims through his flames. 

Gaster watches the two of you, eye lights soft. “So uh, what exactly prompted this whole thing? Curiosity?” 

“Hmm?” Oh yeah! “Bottle!” You reach out and grab it, holding it triumphantly in the air. 

Or at least that’s your plan. It’s heavy and thick with dust and it slips right between your fingers. Fortunately, Grillby reacts with his usual reflexes, releasing one leg to grab the bottle mid-air. You wobble just a little, clinging to his neck. 

All three of you release a breath. “Let’s get you down before anything breaks,” Grillby says rather calmly, despite the sputtering of his flames. 

Y’all know that Loony Toons cartoon with the big dog that makes friends with a kitten and winds up thinking the kitten’s been baked into a cookie (but kitty is fine, don’t panic) 

This scenario, but with OtterShore. Sparks decides to make otter shaped cookies, gives one to Shore who discovers that she has a little pouch for storing food so she tucks an extra one in there. Then forgets about it. 

Then BOOM, Gaster’s got the de-ottering machine ready to go, only it’s a tad more, explosive than expected because that’s just par for the course for him. And Shore poofs back to normal, only she kind of goes flying and Gaster doesn’t see that because of said explosion that makes a little dust cloud. 

What he does see is an otter cookie lying on the ground that fell out of the vanishing otter pouch

Gaster: OH GOD NO I TURNED HER INTO A COOKIE, I AM REVOLTING, I AM A SHAM I-

Grillby, poking his head in: Oh hey Shore you’re back

Shore saluting from a pile of knocked over boxes: Indeed and I was going to kick Gaster’s butt but now I just feel bad

Shore: *Mathematical noises*

Ooooh I think I’ll indulge and answer for each of the trio for these

5. On an average day, what can be found in your character’s pockets?

Shore: Sand typically. It’s coarse and it gets everywhere. Shore’s pocket sand is legit sand. That or a shell that got picked up and promptly forgotten about until the next time she reaches in her pocket

Grillby: He usually keeps a lens cloth on hand because his glasses get dirty real fast, especially if he lets off a lot of smoke on any particular day

Gaster: Pen and notepad. The doc gets so many ideas and thoughts in his skull that he learned if he doesn’t write it down, he will lose little details because they get overridden by bigger and BETTER ideas

10: Does your character feel more comfortable with more clothing, or with less clothing?

Shore: Shore’s got good legs and knows it. She’s the type to wear short shorts and a hoodie combo. Also spending so much time in the water has more than made her used to showing a lot of skin. 

Grillby: Professionally, he’s more comfortable looking prim and pristine. But in his off time, the shirt (and sometimes pants) comes off. His flames do not like being contained inside clothing for long amount of time. He’s used to it but he’s more at ease when he has more breathing space. He just hasn’t done it in front of Shore much cause he’s Shy about his scars.

Gaster: Layers and layers and more layers. He’s lanky and he feels more protected if he’s got at least 3 layers covering his bones. And he doesn’t get bothered by the nearly as easily as someone with skin so he says the more the merrier. 

26: How does your character behave around children?

Shore: Loves kids. A lot of kids come through the shop and get signed up for surfing lessons so she’s got a lot of experience working with them. She thinks they’re quirky and giving them even a little bit of praise makes their entire face light up. She usually treats them like little adults that need just a little bit of extra attention and love and the kids LOVE her

Grillby: Oh stars, it’s a child, please don’t come close oh no I’m going to break them. He....goes really still around kids. They either instantly burst into tears when they see him or try to touch him, both of which makes him feel awful.