How do you interpret US Papyrus? I'm always curious how others interpret him because there's a good range of them!
Ooh, in general?? Hm, I guess mostly the way I try to interpret him is sort of like if you gave UT Papyrus chronic fatigue and issues tied to having to act as the judge in his world! Which, to me, basically makes him very silly, kind, sassy, but also very insecure and very lonely.
I should explain- ough this is gunna be an essay so there'll need to be a readmore soon aha, but I should explain how the whole "judge" thing usually works in my interps!
It's not an inherent thing, or some "angel given" power, there has always been an acting Royal Judge, someone the crown had appointed that they felt they could, well, trust the judgement of, who they could consult about crimes and justice and whatnot. The prior judge Fell some years ago, but since Toriel/Asgore had already left, Asgore/Toriel never appointed another, as a sort of self punishment as well as a promise they would continue with their task of collecting the human souls without the assistance (or interference) of someone else.
That was until Sans/Papyrus came along. The "judging" effect was caused by one of the many methods Gaster used to make the brothers, involving the justice soul trait. This is where the KR came from, as well as the unique ability to "see" the sins in others' souls. After discovering this unique ability, eventually the king/queen asks Sans/Papyrus to act as the new judge (as well as some other reasons that vary depending on AU).
Now, the kr and "judge" ability manifested in Stretch much later than the sanses in non-swapped AUs, which made it a much more difficult transition that only made it much harder for him to socialize with others. He basically couldn't "turn it off", which, on top of feeling incredibly guilty about the invasion of privacy, made him feel anxious and stressed out and couldn't help but put the negative thoughts front and center in his attention, making him also feel like those were the most prominent thoughts and feelings of those around him.
So like, you know how anxiety and self image issues make you feel like everyone secretly hates you or finds you annoying or etc etc etc, basically, he had "proof" that was true, and despite trying his best to ignore it, things are already hard enough for a pre-teen/teen, on top of his physical health taking such the dip it did around that time, too, he quickly became anxiety riddled, isolated, and miserable.
Before then, he was actually a lot like Rus (UT) when he was a kid! And it was hard on Blue, too, since he was practically just a teen himself, so for all of that to land on his brother as well as needing to work harder to take care of him when he had bad health flares, things were rough for a while there.
That being said, Blue did help in keeping Stretch's mental health from completely plummeting, always trying to keep his mood up, encouraging him, trying to find him friends (how he met Undyne aka Sylv!), etc etc, and the brothers grew a lot closer in that time, as Stretch had always admired Blue, and it meant a lot to him.
That was until, of course, things never got any better. His health continued to decline into older teendom/young adulthood, and there was some personal drama here and there, especially involving Sylv, and when Blue joined the guard, that was the last straw. Stretch was sick of feeling like such a burden on everyone, so even though he'd initially turned Toriel down to act as judge (knowing his brother absolutely hated that she'd even asked him in the first place), he went back to her and accepted. That was really when the distance between the brothers started, which wasn't helped by the resets starting up soon thereafter.
(Quick aside, as he got older, he did get the hang of controlling his "judging" ability, and "turning it off" is no longer an issue for him later on)
So in his efforts to become more independent, he worked a lot on his social life and how to interact with others and make himself well liked. Sure, maybe he doesn't really have any real friends, and people forget his name all the time, but he'd finally learned how to utilize his heightened intuition to get along with people, rather than weird them out.
He’s still riddled with anxiety and self worth issues, but he’s gotten incredibly good at masking, and typically comes off as very relaxed and friendly. He’s a big fan of wordplay and very mild practical jokes (like those types of gags where you put on Groucho Marx glasses and pretend to be someone else. Blue always plays along for the bit), but he has a tendency to hold people at arms length, and tries to avoid others actually getting to know him.
Very few people know he’s the judge, and he prefers it that way, he'd rather everyone underestimate him so he never disappoints. That being said, he does still make quite an effort to help those around him without their knowledge, and he’s still lowkey very interested in engineering and computer science. Him and Rus are definitely two peas in a pod when it comes to interests, they could talk about comics for hours on end, but the primary difference is that Stretch tries much harder to hide how much he cares, where as Rus will shout it from the rooftops.
I'm not a big fan of the characterizations that make him a huge brat, sometimes even an outright jerk, I don't really understand them since neither Sans nor Papyrus are like that, but w/ my guy, he’s definitely a huge dork and sweetheart, who just also happens to be very sassy at times ahdjfjsksk
He also still holds on to his belief in others, like Rus. Even despite literally knowing better, he’s also been proven right too many times to lose that hope, which is why, in his fight, as opposed to UT Sans, he gets very quiet and looks miserable. He genuinely doesn't want to hurt them, but he knows he’s out of options. When he offers an out before the fight, he won't spring a surprise attack, and just offers a genuine hug. The player doesn't get a choice after accepting, they kill him, and his final words are pretty similar to Rus' about knowing they can do better, and he believes in them anyway, though he makes a comment about that sounding pretty stupid with a laugh before he collapses off screen.
WOW this got longer than I meant it to I'm sorry huge lore drop instead of just general facts ough BUT ! Idk, hopefully this gives a half decent feel for how I interpret him! I love him a lot I'm mixing him into a salad like a crouton <3
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𝐬𝐦𝐨𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐮𝐭 | 𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐦𝐬 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫
description: you’ve been getting closer to ellie lately and, unbeknownst to you, your blossoming crush is entirely reciprocated. cue your first smoke sesh together… and a little something more, too. [modern au, ellie and reader are both over 18]
warnings: weed use, oral sex, fingering. this fic is 18+, minors do not interact.
author’s note: my first ellie fic and my first fic on this blog! pls be nice :) let me know what you think <3
The first few times you hung out with Ellie, she’d offered you a joint. It’s no secret that Ellie’s the town’s top dealer, a welcome sight at rowdy house parties, her backpack stuffed with ziplock bags of the best bud around. You’d tried weed before, had taken a puff or two from poorly-rolled blunts here and there, but you’d never particularly enjoyed it. Mostly, you’d just coughed up a lung and felt nothing but a vague lightheadedness. So when Ellie rolled up a joint the first time you’d come over to her place, offering you a drag after she’d sparked up, you’d politely declined.
Ellie had arched a brow. “You mind if I smoke? Shit - I can put it out.”
Before you’d had the chance to respond, she was already reaching for the ashtray on her nightstand, ceramic and painted to resemble an eight-ball.
“No, no, it’s fine,” you interjected, reaching out and touching her wrist almost involuntarily. You pushed down the flurry of butterflies that erupted in your stomach at the contact. God, you had to be touch-starved or something. Since when did touching someone’s arm make your heart skip a beat?
Ellie looked at you with a guarded kind of suspicion, like she didn’t believe that you were fine with her smoking. “You’re sure?”
“I’m sure,” you said, lips curling into an encouraging smile. “I don’t mind weed, it just doesn’t do anything for me.”
“Huh.” Ellie nodded. She lifted the joint to her lips again and you glanced away, chest tightening from the sight of her lips pursing.
“If you ever wanna try again,” she paused to exhale a plume of smoke, intentionally avoiding your direction, “let me know. Not to, like, toot my own horn or anything, but I’ve never had someone try my weed and not like it.”
You let out an easy laugh. “Okay, we’ll have to see about that.”
Ellie was smiling at you, those green eyes twinkling like so many stars. “No pressure.”
That was months ago, when the summer heat still blazed from sunrise to sunset. It’s mid-winter now, the chill nipping at your cheeks and the end of your nose. To your agony, it hasn’t gotten any easier to breathe when you touch Ellie - when she greets you with a hug and a smile at her front door, you feel like you’re paralyzed with want. And Ellie’s probably none the wiser, of course. You wonder if she’s ever noticed the way your breath hitches when she stretches out on the couch beside you, leaning her head on your shoulder while some tacky eighties film lights up the television screen. You figure she’s oblivious - she’s just being friendly. She probably doesn’t even know you like girls, anyway. Plus, she doesn’t shy away from talking about the girls she’s been with before. You’ve spent more than a few nights seething with jealousy as she recounted her latest hookup, schooling your expression into one of disinterest or even mild enthusiasm.
It’s been a while since she’s talked like that, luckily. You’re grateful you don’t have to feign excitement about Ellie’s latest conquests anymore.
“Whatcha thinkin’ about?” Ellie interrupts your internal monologue, hands still working at the joint in her lap. She’s got a pile of ground-up weed on a rolling tray, sprinkling it into the perfectly-rolled cone like it’s muscle memory. It probably is.
“Nothing,” you blurt, cheeks warming. “Sorry, just zoned out for a second.”
“Oh, bullshit,” Ellie quips, rolling her eyes despite the smile playing at her lips. “What, you can’t tell me? I thought we were friends, cherry.”
You flush anew at the nickname. She’d picked it out for you after you’d scarfed down an entire jar of maraschino cherries one night, after Ellie had bought them for ice cream sundaes. You’d never live that down… But you’re not sure you want to, because every time the nickname leaves Ellie’s lips, you feel like you’re glowing bright red with admiration.
“We are friends!” You nudge Ellie’s shoulder with yours, rolling your eyes with that same playfulness she’d expressed. “Sorry, it’s just - it’s embarrassing.”
Ellie narrows her eyes. It’s like you can see the cogs turning in her head. “Embarrassing? What, you got a crush on some guy or something?”
You open your mouth to respond, but before you can, she’s prattling on again. “Y’know, just ‘cause I’m gay doesn’t mean you can’t talk to me about your crushes. Swear I won’t be weird about it.”
Oh god.
“It’s not - I’m not…” You sigh, gaze lowering to your lap, where you’re fiddling with your hands. Should you tell her? You should probably tell her.
“I like girls, you know.”
It’s quiet for so long that you need to look up at Ellie to make sure she’s still there, still listening. And she is; her eyes are glued to you, wide in disbelief.
“What?” You feel like a bug under a microscope with her looking at you like that. “Is it that hard to believe?”
Ellie shakes her head emphatically. “No, no - it’s not. I just didn’t expect that.”
She turns away to finish rolling the joint, twisting the very end of the paper until it forms a little point. “Guess you’re just full of surprises, huh, cherry?”
You bite your lip to stifle a smile, but Ellie sees it anyway.
“So who’s the lucky girl?” She asks, rummaging through her pocket until she finds her lighter. You watch Ellie spark the joint, the twisted end catching fire until the cherry starts to glow. Ellie takes a few puffs and the scent of smoke tickles your nose.
“I’d prefer not to say,” you tell her, chewing on the inside of your lip. Your nerves are off the wall; you’re so anxious that the joint in Ellie’s slender fingers is suddenly tempting.
Ellie scoffs. “Boring.”
She looks up at you as she flicks ash off the end of the joint, and when she notices you eyeing it, her brows lift.
“Want some? Will that make you spill?”
You huff a nervous laugh, toying with the ends of your hair. “No… I don’t know. Maybe?”
Ellie whoops, her free hand curling into a fist of victory. “Fuck yeah. Here, take it.”
She offers you the joint and you take it, but not without a moment or two of hesitation. You will the anxiety away with the thought that you probably won’t feel anything. Ellie watches as you bring the joint to your lips and inhale, praying you won’t cough and make a fool of yourself. Especially not with Ellie watching so intently.
By the grace of some kind of divine being, you don’t cough. Your throat tickles, and you feel emboldened to take one more hit, letting the smoke fill your lungs. You imagine your body relaxing, the knot in your stomach unwinding. You hand the joint back to Ellie and she takes a puff of her own, her lips curled into the faintest little smirk.
“So…” Ellie trails off expectantly.
“God, you’re persistent,” you groan. She just peers at you knowingly from behind a veil of smoke.
“There’s not much to tell,” you say. “I’ve had a crush on this girl for a while now, but I don’t think she feels the same.”
“Have you asked her?” Ellie prompts, flicking ash off the joint.
You shake your head. “No way.”
“Then,” Ellie pauses to take another hit, “how do you know she doesn’t feel the same?”
You should be feeling anxious with her drilling you like this - you know you should. Usually, you’d be retreating into yourself with every prodding question Ellie asks. But all you feel now is yearning; there’s an ache in your chest that only she can remedy. And, clearly, Ellie’s clueless about it.
You don’t want her to be clueless, you realize.
The words leave your lips before you can think better of them. “Do you, Ellie?”
Her brows knit together, forming a crease that you’ve memorized by now - like every other freckle and wrinkle on her face. “Huh? Do I what?”
You reach for the joint and she yields it without question.
“Do you feel the same about me?”
The weed has certainly helped with your nerves, you think, watching Ellie’s expression shift from confusion to realization. Her plush lips part, but all that comes out is a series of stammers and false sentence starts: “I—you—what?”
Fuck it, you think. You stretch out to reach the nightstand beside Ellie’s bed, leaving the joint in one of the ashtray’s notches. A steady stream of smoke ribbons upward from the fading cherry.
“Ellie,” you start, settling back into your place on the rug. You look at her to find her already staring at you, blinking. “It’s you. I have a crush on you. It’s been—”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Ellie interjects, voice softer than you’d expected.
You blink. “I didn’t want to ruin our friendship, I guess. And you always talked about other girls, so I thought you just… Weren’t interested.”
“Cherry.” Ellie sits up on her knees so she can get closer to you, the sleeves of her oversized flannel slipping down to her forearms as she reaches out and grabs your face. Her touch is gentle but firm, insistent. You can feel the callouses on her fingers against your skin, her thumbs brushing up against your cheekbones, and the air is suddenly so thin you can hardly inhale.
“I have… I’ve had feelings for you for so long. So fucking long, cherry.” Ellie’s gaze is intense, eyes boring into you. You feel exposed, raw, alive with something electric.
You stare right back at her, frozen in her grasp.
“But you were always talking about other girls,” you say. Doubt lingers in the back of your head; this is too good to be true. Right?
“I know, fuck, I’m sorry,” Ellie sighs. “I thought you weren’t interested in me. Thought it was hopeless, y’know? My perfect best friend having feelings for me? Unreal.”
One of Ellie’s hands smooths over your hair; it’s something she’s done plenty of times before, but it feels different now. More intimate, with your shared confessions between you.
“Wanna know something?” Ellie asks then plows on, not really waiting for an answer, “I stopped hooking up with other girls a while ago. I just… Couldn’t.”
You nod in understanding. Your eyelids feel heavy all of the sudden, each blink heavier than the last.
“They weren’t you,” Ellie adds.
They weren’t you, her words echo in your mind.
“Ellie,” you breathe. Her face is impossibly close; you can pick out every detail of her face. Each pore, each freckle, each fleck of brown in her green eyes. You can smell the weed smoke on her breath.
“Cherry,” she responds, voice hushed just as low as yours. “Cherry. Can I kiss you?”
“God, yes,” you practically whine.
When Ellie kisses you for the first time, she tastes like relief.
Her lips are soft and insistent against yours, the pad of her thumb warm against your cheek as you lean in closer to kiss her back. It’s like time has gone still; the hum of the speaker on Ellie’s dresser fades away, as does the sound of the winter winds hissing and whooshing against the window. All you know is Ellie: her hand slipping down the length of your back to grab your hip, her mouth hot and needy against yours. It’s a desperate sort of kiss, one that you’d both been yearning for, and months of pining drain from your mouth to hers, then back again.
You’re not sure if you’d been kissing for seconds or hours when Ellie finally breaks away, gasping.
“Fuck,” she whispers. The tip of her nose brushes against your cheek, then your nose. “We should stop, before I…”
She trails off but you know exactly what she’d left unsaid. And your stomach flips in response; the mere thought of what else Ellie might do with her mouth has your cunt throbbing.
Ellie’s hand leaves your hip and it’s like she’s left a burn there - one shaped like her touch, a scathing outline on your skin.
“I don’t want to stop,” you find the courage to admit.
You’re not sure who makes the first move this time - only that you’re kissing again, swallowing Ellie’s pleased moans as your tongue prods between her lips. You gasp and pant into each other’s mouths, hands roaming on newly discovered skin; Ellie’s hands slip beneath your tee, her palms hot against your abdomen, your hips, your lower back. When her fingers find the clasp of your bra and unfasten it, you practically shiver with anticipation, back arching into her touch.
“Whoa there,” Ellie laughs, nudging her nose against yours. You go in for another kiss, annoyed that she’d stopped, but she pulls back. “You’re sure you want this, cherry?”
“Please,” you say, taking advantage of the moment to pull your shirt over your head and set it aside. You toss your bra into the growing pile, turning back to Ellie to find her gaping at you.
“Christ,” she says, licking her lips, “you’re fucking perfect.”
She gives you one last heated kiss before her mouth moves to your jawline, then the column of your neck, where she leaves a trail of wet kisses. She sucks on a spot right on the crook of your neck, just shy of leaving a hickey, and your toes fucking curl.
Ellie only gives a low hum of approval at your reaction before she’s moving lower, lower. Her kisses cover your breasts, every inch of skin worshipped by her lips until she finally takes a peaked nipple into her mouth. You feel her tongue swirl against the sensitive bud and you nearly cry from the pleasure, one hand flying up to knot into her hair and tug.
Her gaze moves up to meet yours, and your cunt tightens again at the look of unbridled desire in her eyes - her lids are heavy, too, but you can’t tell if it’s from the weed or sheer lust. Maybe both, you’re not sure, but you don’t have much time to consider it before Ellie’s moving to your other nipple, tongue laving against the taut flesh before she closes her mouth around it and sucks. A ragged moan tears from your throat and you tense, tugging again at the locks of Ellie’s hair in your fist.
She leaves your nipples flushed and sensitive, shining with saliva, and you’re suddenly very aware of the layers of clothes separating you from her. Separating the wetness of your cunt from hers, the bony curve of her hips from your needy mouth. You need those layers gone.
“Ellie,” you whine, pulling at the collar of her flannel.
“Shh, I know,” she coos, voice dripping with syrupy sweet lust. “Why don’t you get on the bed for me, hm?”
You nod and oblige, but not without stopping to slip out of your jeans. You leave your panties on because, well, they’re cute. A white lace thong with a tiny, silky pink bow just below your navel - Ellie’s eyes linger there as she stands at the edge of the bed, unbuckling her belt and stepping out of her cargos. You can feel the wet patch on your panties as you press your thighs together and watch her undress. She’s always been on the thinner side, but as she slides off her flannel and pulls her sports bra over her head, you realize that she’s much more toned than you’d imagined. Her arms flex with each movement and her abdomen is clearly taut with muscle; every inch of new skin she reveals only adds to the agonizing desire churning in your stomach.
Luckily, she seems just as eager as you are. She’s still in a pair of oversized plaid boxers when she grabs hold of your hips and yanks you toward the edge of the bed, pulling your knees apart so she can see what’s between them.
“Look at you,” she says, eyes wide at the sight of your soaked panties. “I didn’t realize you were so needy, cherry. Should’ve let me take care of you sooner.”
Her words send another gush of arousal flooding from your cunt, your stomach twisting. “‘M sorry, Ellie.”
“Don’t be sorry,” she says, lowering herself onto her knees before you. Her fingers hook beneath the lace of your panties to pull them down, leaving them in a crumpled heap on the rug.
Her face sinks between your legs, and the first stroke of her tongue against your folds makes you shiver with relief.
“Oh my god,” you gasp. Ellie moans against your pussy, tongue splitting through your folds, spreading your wetness with every swipe and lick. Your back arches involuntarily, your toes curling in sheer pleasure.
She laps at your cunt like a woman starving, hot tongue drawing circles around your puffy clit. It’s maddening, the way she knows exactly what you need, speeding up and slowing down in accordance with your moans and sighs and whimpers. You’ve never felt so close so quickly, but you don’t want it to stop - her mouth is magic between your legs, and as you hurtle towards your orgasm, she slips a finger into your clenching hole. You nearly scream.
“Ellie,” you moan shakily, your thighs tightening on both sides of her head. “Ellie, I’m gonna…”
She just moans again, mouth working at your clit while her finger sinks in and out of your cunt. She adds another not long after and it’s hardly a stretch with how wet you are. You’re trembling with every stroke of her tongue against your clit, and soon enough, you feel yourself slipping off the edge into oblivion. Your orgasm tears through you like never before, hot and electric, every muscle tensing as Ellie finger-fucks you through every wave of pleasure. Eventually, you push the heel of your hand against her forehead, too overstimulated for her to keep sucking at your too-sensitive clit. She pulls back and sits on her heels, fingers leaving the tight grip of your cunt as she wipes her mouth with her other hand. Your slick covers her from the nose down, the shining evidence of how good she’d made you feel.
“So fucking pretty when you come,” Ellie tells you, standing up and lifting a knee onto the bed beside you. Her hair is a mess, you’d made sure of it, but she doesn’t seem to notice or care.
“Think you’ve got a few more for me?” She smiles at you, wolfish and wicked, and her hand moves to grope at one of your tits.
“Mm,” you hum, reaching out for her. “Only if you have a few for me.”
When she’s close enough, you slip your hand between Ellie’s legs, your fingers brushing through sparse curls to find the heat of her folds. She’s soaked, you realize with self-satisfaction, your tongue swiping over your lower lip.
This will be fun.
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hey! love your stories
can you do a story where Matt/chris x Reader have to hide their relationship from EVERYONE (including the internet) but one of them slips up and exposes everything.
if you can make a story like this thank you!!!
EXPOSED
𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: chris x reader
𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: a tiny slip-up causes the fandom to go a little cray cray.
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: FLUFF, swearing
𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 505
𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: thank you for 1.5k i love you guysss!
“why are you so heavy.” you groan as chris is hugging you, his legs wrapping around your waist.
“that’s harsh,” he says, and you roll your eyes.
you’ve known chris for a while, becoming good friends along the way. what people don’t know, including his brothers, is that you guys are dating.
you don’t want to get bashed online by preteens, and he’s just not ready to reveal it quite yet either.
your best friend laughs, snapping a pic of you guys for fun. the three of you are on a sunset walk on the street, soaking up the outdoors.
“don’t hate me.” she starts, and chris finally lets go. “you guys would make such a cute couple.”
cheeks becoming red, you feel chris’ stare on you. he smirks. “nah. that’ll never happen.”
a few days go by, and yes you’ve seen the tweets, but thankfully the fans don’t believe it. i mean, they already know you guys are close friends. nothing suspicious about that.
today’s different. you wake up from your afternoon nap with your phone blowing up. mention after mention.
QUEEN WE NEED ANSWERS @y/n_l/n
@y/n_l/n and chris??? hello???
no SHOT chris and y/n are dating😭
you pause at the last comment.
‘no shot chris and y/n are dating’
what?
confused as ever, you open up the most reliable source: twitter. twitter knows everything about everyone.
you scroll, seeing hundreds of tweets about you and chris. there’s also a video attached, what seems like a clip from the triplets’ new podcast.
you tap on the video.
nothing exciting happens for the first two seconds, just them yapping about whatever the fuck. then the camera cuts to chris. “yeah, my girlfriend y/n—” he starts, stopping when he notices.
that son of a gun.
matt’s face scrunches. “your girlfriend y/n?”
“i meant my good friend y/n. i was talking too fa—"
“i knew it!” nick exclaims, causing him and chris to get into a bickering match.
the video ends, and a message pops up.
chris <3
i’m outside
you sigh, uncovering yourself from your blanket and heading to the front door. you open it, your boyfriend smiling fake at you. he can’t tell if he’s in trouble or not. “it was an accident.” he says, almost fearful.
your eyes widen, nodding your head along with his rambling. “i wasn’t thinking. my mouth was moving faster than my brain. it came so naturally because you, you know, are my girlfriend. my girlfriend; that i love so much. who i will never betray. who i can never live without. who i—”
“chris, stop,” you say softly. he for sure thinks he’s in trouble, but you honestly don’t care about the tweets and tiktoks. it was a silly slip-up, but in reality, you guys couldn’t hide your relationship forever. “it’s okay. it was bound to happen, honestly.”
“you’re not mad?”
“no.” you giggle, cupping his neck and pulling him into a kiss.
“i love being your good friend y/n.” you say jokingly, chris smiling on your lips.
𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!
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