#undertale reverse harem

Alternatively....

He told you things that made your head spin, about timelines, alternate universes, and a machine he’d built down there. 

He explained that it was originally supposed to be a fail-safe, a manual way to control something called 'Resets', but he never got it to work right, and now, out of nowhere, it somehow started up and tore open doorways into timelines that were entirely different from yours. 

Your brain feels like it’s stuffed with cotton. Alternate versions. Underground timelines. Versions of him that never left.

He notices the way your hands are trembling slightly.

Without looking at you, he offers the cigarette. You hesitate for half a second before taking it. You’ve done it before, maybe once or twice. 

You place it between your lips and inhale.

It burns.

You cough immediately, eyes watering, and he huffs a quiet, almost chuckle.

Don’t try to match me,” he mutters. “You’re bad at it.”

You glare weakly at him through the smoke, and soon silence settles between you.

When your head feels a little less like it’s spinning, you give him back the cigarette and ask the question that’s been sitting in your throat.

“What are you going to do?” 

He doesn’t answer.

You press gently. “Are we telling anyone? Toriel? Asgore? Alphys? Because… it’s going to be hard to hide six extra skeletons in your house.”

His jaw tightens slightly.

He presses the cigarette back to his teeth, inhales, exhales, and blows the smoke away from you again.

“Don’t say anything.”

You stare at him.

He finally turns fully toward you. 

“I appreciate you,” he says carefully. “More than you probably realize. But this isn’t your problem. Sans and I will handle it.”

There it is again.

That wall.

You hesitate, but if you don’t say it now, you never will.

“You don’t have to.”

His eye lights flick toward you.

“You and Sans don’t have to do it alone.” You swallow. “I’m not close with my family. You know that I moved out for a reason...” 

You force yourself to keep going. “I tried making friends when I moved here. It just… didn’t stick. You two are really the only meaningful relationships I have right now.”

That hangs in the air between you.

“If there are versions of you in there who don’t have anything? Who had it worse? Then I want to help.”

He drops the cigarette on the porch and crushes it out with his shoe.

Then he steps forward and pulls you into him.

He hugs you, it’s tight. One arm is around your shoulders, the other around your waist. He sways slightly without meaning to.

“What would I do without you?” he murmurs, voice low.

You bury your face in his chest.

Before you can answer, the porch door creaks open.

You both separate, but Papyrus keeps a hand on your waist. 

Sans rubs the back of his neck as he looks between you.

“…Everything cool out here?”

Papyrus nods once.

“They’re all from underground timelines,” he says. “Barrier still up. Humans never fully integrated.” Sans gestures vaguely toward the house.

 “Two of them are like us, four of them aren’t. They seemed to be swapped.”

Sans continues with what he learned. “Some of them had different experiences in the underground than we did,” he adds quietly. “Unfriendly experiences.”

Papyrus snorts softly. “That’s why a few seem to be… rough around the edges.”

Sans winces. “Understatement.”

Sans perks up suddenly. “Oh! Also — important. We had to sort out names.”

You and Papyrus both stare at him.

He coughs. “We did rock-paper-scissors to see who gets to keep ‘Sans’ and ‘Papyrus.’ It felt only fair.”

Papyrus blinks slowly. “…You’re joking.”

“Nope.”

“And you lost.”

Sans deflates slightly. “We lost.”

You press your lips together to stop from laughing.

Papyrus deadpans. “I cannot believe that was your priority.”

“Well, we can’t all be Sans, Papyrus,” Sans defends.

Papyrus pinches the bridge of his nose.

Sans straightens. “I’ve taken the name Blue.”

You fail to fully contain the snort this time.

Papyrus gives you a look.

“What are you going to go by?” You ask him after managing to contain yourself. 

“I do not care,” he says. “We have larger concerns.”

You tilt your head thoughtfully. “What about Honey?”

He narrows one eye socket. “You Haven’t called me that in a while.”

You shrug and his cheekbones dust with a faint orange hue. He shoved his hands deep into his pockets and looked away. "Fine. Honey it is.”

The space discussion is less perfect.

“They can stay with me,” you offer.

Honey immediately shakes his head. “Absolutely not.”

“They can’t all sleep on your living room floor.” You argue. 

“Yes, they can.” 

“No, they can’t.”

Back and forth.

Blue eventually mediates, “Compromise. If either me or Papy stays with you, it should be fine.”

Honey immediately starts to volunteer. “I’ll-”

You glance at him instinctively. Your expression is tight, nervous.

He hesitates.

Blue does not, “If It’s okay with you, I’d be happy to stay” 

Your shoulders relax slightly as you nod. “Yeah that works with me.” 

Back inside, conversations die down when you enter. You feel every set of eye lights land on you, Papyrus steps forward. “This is our neighbor. And our friend.”

One of the Skelletons, you later learn is called Red, snorts. “Sure,” he drawls, looking pointedly at the oversized hoodie you’re still wearing. “Friend.”

Honey’s eye flares orange. “Say one more word.”

Red smirks.

Soon introductions were in order. 

The set of brothers similar to the ones you knew but ‘swapped’ kept their names. 

Blue introduces himself proudly.

“Honey,” Papyrus says flatly.

The Papyrus that mimicked a edgier version of yours introduced himself as Rus, his brother decided on Black. 

The other two that were swapped and more edgy then yours had trouble, you suggested red to keep with whatever color theme the Sanses seemed to have going on, and then for that Papyrus you suggested Edge, for obvious reasons, but you told him it was because he looked sharper then the others. 

He liked your explanation and decided to use the name you chose. 

“You can call me whatever you want Dollface” Red said after you suggested his. 

Blue awkwardly stood between you and suggested that they’d start working on sleeping arrangements. 

Splitting them up takes another argument.

Black distrusts Classic Sans. Edge distrusts Honey. 

Eventually, it’s settled, Black and Rus take your living room, Red and Edge take your guest room and Blue stays with you.

Honey walks you to the door. “You don’t have to do this,” he says quietly.

You tilt your head, “I know.”

“You can still back out.” He offers.

“I won’t.”

There’s a slight pause. 

“Call me if anything feels off.”

You nod. He pulls you into a half-hug, it’s restrained, but warm.

Then you leave.

Your house feels smaller with them inside.

Black glances around. “Huh. Not bad.” It almost sounds like praise.

Rus immediately flops onto your couch, Red and Edge claim the guest room without ceremony, and Blue lingers beside you.

“You can take the bed,” you say automatically.

“I can share.” He says it gently, not pushing, just offering. You nod. It wouldn’t be the first time you slept beside him, but it feels a little different this time. 

The air shifts into something awkward.

You both turn your backs at the same time.

There’s the quiet rustle of fabric.

Blue pulls off his sweater first, folding it carefully over your desk chair. Then his shoes. His movements are slower than usual, less animated.

You reach for the hem of Honey’s hoodie.

For a split second, you hesitate, but you decide that you’d prefer your own clothes, so you pull it off.

The room feels colder without it.

You hear Blue shift, and then go very still. He noticed. You glance over your shoulder instinctively, he’s already turned fully away, eye lights dimmed, pointed firmly at the wall.

“Sorry,” he mutters.

“It’s fine.”

He climbs into bed first, settling carefully on his side. You stand there for a moment longer than you should.

Then you switch off the lamp and slide in beside him and leave a careful inch of space between you.

Neither of you sleeps. You can tell by the way his breathing never quite evens out. Your phone buzzes on the nightstand it makes you both flinch. You reach for it.

Papyrus:

You alright?

Another message comes through almost immediately.

Call if anything feels off.

Goodnight.

Your chest tightens. “He’s checking on us,” you murmur.

Blue goes still. His eye sockets narrow slightly, not angry. Not exactly. Just… thinking.

You type back quickly.

We’re fine. Goodnight. Don’t stay up too late.

You set the phone down, and it’s silent again. 

“Can I ask you something?”

Your stomach drops a little, “Yeah.”

He doesn’t look at you when he asks it. “Is there anything going on between you and my brother?”

You stiffen. It’s subtle, but he feels it. “No,” you say at first, too quickly.

He waits.

You swallow. “We get along. Really well.” That part is easy. “But we don’t… work like that.”

Blue finally turns his head slightly toward you. “You sure?”

“We talked about it. A while ago. Decided we wouldn’t ever be together like that.”

He goes still. “He said that,” Blue clarifies quietly.

“Yes.” You hesitate. “And even now… I don’t think we’d work either.” That part is softer. Honest.

He studies you in the dark, then he nods once.

The silence returns. It’s heavier now, but steadier. After a while, he shifts closer. He doesn’t touch you immediately, just hovers there, uncertain for once. “You cold?”

It’s an excuse. A weak one.

You almost smile.

“A little.”

He opens his arms, offering awkwardly. You hesitate only a second before rolling closer. He wraps both arms around you, careful. Protective. Your cheek rests against his collarbone, and he holds you a little tighter when you settle.

Blue opens his mouth like he’s going to say something. You feel it, the inhale. But he doesn’t. The question dies somewhere between his thoughts and his ribs.

Even in his arms, your body stays slightly guarded. Stiffly positioned, but nothing escalates. It doesn’t need to.

His breathing evens out first, slow. Steady. When you’re sure he’s asleep, you relax fully for the first time all night. Your hand drifts lightly against his side.

You think about it. About him.

About what this could be.

A relationship with Sans-Blue.

The thought doesn’t scare you.

It feels…possible.

You think it could work. You’d like it to.

But after everything that happened tonight. Timelines split open. Old feelings still sit unresolved on a porch somewhere. It’s too soon for sudden movements.

Too soon for confessions. Too soon for anything fragile to be rushed.

So instead, you let yourself stay here, in his arms.

Just this for now.